Stress

Running away

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I thought that after how hectic last week was that this week would be a breeze. Boy was I wrong! This week has been just as stressful if not more so. I left off with recent events telling about my brother’s wedding, coming back home and getting a cold, and ended Monday with the news that a best friend of my son’s ran away from home. Things would’ve probably ended up fine if he would have came home later the night he left, but he did not. 

My son and his friend Logan were the last ones to see Jake. Jake bragged on the bus ride home Monday night that he was going to run away from home. His friends didn’t believe him because he said that before several times and never did until Monday. Monday night our summer days reached an end. A cold front brought the wind and rain. Logan saw Jake walking down the road in the pouring rain with a backpack on. Logan called my son and they attempted to stop Jake from running away. He had a backpack full of clothing, water, food, and a couple knives. He told the boys he was going to catch a train out of town. The boys tried to stop him, but he ran off into a corn field. 

At this point, the boys went over to Jake’s house to alert his mother. Jake was born to teen parents who ended up marrying other people and having other children. He was having a lot of conflict with his stepdad. His father lives out of the state. I thought Jake would come home that night. 

Tuesday morning arrived, but Jake had not. His dad flew in to help try to find him. The neighborhood was scoured. Abandoned buildings, deer stands, unlocked sheds, farms, the railroad tracks, the park, fields, and woods were searched with no signs of Jake’s whereabouts. After school, my son and a group of boys looked for him in their secret hiding spots. I offered to search the corn field where he was last seen. All I found was a battery and an empty sleeping pill wrapper on the ground. The corn was over my head and I was searching after dusk. I heard noises out in the field and was convinced there was a bear coming for me. It was scary. When it got dark, we all met back by the road. A night bird cried out. Jake’s mother mournfully responded by shouting out Jake’s name. He was not there. 

We went back to Jake’s house where the boys were questioned some more. Jake’s stepdad was pouring over Google maps and also was looking over the railroad track locations. Jake’s grandmother cried. No one had slept the night before, no one had eaten. There were tears, anxiety, and anger. It was heart wrenching to see the family’s pain. They were so desperate trying everything with no answers. We decided to search outside of a trailer of a friend of the boys that recently moved out that had a broken window. Jake’s dad cried out his name in anguish receiving nothing but empty silence. After this, I took the boys home. It was going to be a cold night, near the freezing point with a boy who ran away a day ago into the pouring rain. We feared hypothermia. We feared death. 

Last night Facebook got flooded with missing person posters. Jake was spotted near a highway about 30 miles away. This morning brought relief that up until last night, Jake was alive! A couple of hours later, Jake was found. 

All of this brought back memories of the times that my autistic brother Matt ran away from home as a child. Multiple times he ran away. At times we had a search for him in the woods near our house. We feared for his safety. He couldn’t take care of himself. It brought back brief moments of the terror we went through searching for a lost child. 

Lately I have seen a lot of banter going back and forth about who has the hardest job as a parent. I want to offer my opinion. Parenting is hard! It doesn’t matter if you are a biological parent, a step parent, a foster parent, a parent of one or ten, or a parent of the disabled. If you want to be a good parent, it is difficult. It takes everything that you have. I think that parents who have both disabled and “normal” kids probably have one of the toughest roads to walk. We need to work together to bring our lost children back home. I am not sure what will happen with Jake now, but I feel a lot of relief that he made it home safe.

Even my imagination runs

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I took a couple of days off unintentionally, scrapped another blog idea, and just ended up being very busy on a “light” weekend. I ran 12 miles Saturday, stopped in for awhile at a church event, and then spent 4 hours moving stuff out of my grandma’s house. I have learned a few things, like not to run 12 miles and lift boxes for 4 hours. I did sleep good that night! Sunday ushered in the last sailboat ride for the season. The weather was perfect. 

Saturday’s run was average although something strange happened. There were 2 young guys (20’s) in a truck with a trailer behind it. They were at a stop sign when I ran by. The driver was checking me out. Then a half mile later they drove by me again and pulled to the side of the road a mile ahead. This worried me a little. Even though I run on the “busy” roads, it is still pretty rural and no one was around. How could I protect myself from 2 young muscular men if they meant harm? I imagined sinister conversation. “Let’s go get that runner and tie her up in the back of the trailer.” I was praying that they saw my gray hair. After 9 miles, I was a sitting duck. They ended up driving away before I got to them. Pffwhew. Maybe they were lost. Last night my friend was telling me how she was the only woman doing the trap shoot league. It was then that I decided that I want to add learning how to use a gun to my bucket list. I briefly announced my day dreams of running with a gun holstered to my hip or in the back of my running bra fighting off wild animals and predatory men. My husband said I would probably end up shooting myself. Sometimes my imagination runs wild too. 

I am still having some knee pain while running. I feel sore all over and my endurance has been pretty crappy lately. I started taking glucosamine chondroitin like my active brother who had the 2 knee surgeries. Also, like my dog. But if I start blogging about digging a hole to China or escaping my yard to get to my neighbor’s caged rabbits like my dog did while under the influence of this drug please let me know before it is too late. I have been wearing my brace. The only other thing it said to do is lose weight. I don’t even think my doctor would recommend that. I am probably now at the point of being underweight. People are now saying wow you lost a lot of weight. Are you ok? Even though I burn a lot of calories, I am not usually hungry. When I am really stressed, my body tells me not to eat. I could go all day without really noticing that I didn’t eat. Yesterday I ate too much and my acid reflux let me know. I associated eating with pain as a child. For months I barely ate. My parents threatened to take me to the doctor then. I wish they did. 

It has been almost a year since I have been diagnosed with acid reflux. Looking back, I knew I had it since childhood. The burning pain when I ate. The dentist asking me if I had acid reflux because it looked like acid was wearing down my teeth on one side probably from sleeping on that side. Of course it makes sense now. I have been taking Prilosec now for months supplementing it with liquid antacid and close to the max dosage of Tums. What happens when this no longer works? I mean really. My stress levels probably aren’t going down in the next 5 years. Even running is starting to be stressful. Maybe it is time to revisit my bucket list to add some just for fun items to it. Or book that winter trip to Florida. 

Scabies and other things that bug me

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My autistic brother Matt has been in a group home for about 5 years now. Begrudgingly, my mother decided that it was better for her to choose a home of her liking versus having us do it after she is gone. It was something that my parents put off doing until Matt was in his mid 30’s and they were their 60’s. It wasn’t an easy adjustment, but it was mainly good. Well, except for the scabies. That’s right, one of the care providers brought scabies to the house. This ended up resulting in my brother getting scabies which he needed 3 pesticide treatments for. He had a major allergic reaction to the treatments which caused his hands to blister, peel, bleed, ooze in a red angry rash. My brother went around looking like he had a flesh eating virus for the past 6 months. The care provider refused to seek treatment and kept spreading it to this group of people again and again until they were forced to let her go. My brother is starting to finally get better. It was something so disgustingly horrible that I find hard to describe without pictures. You wouldn’t want to see them anyway. 

In response to all of this, my mother did some extreme allergy testing. This resulted in some extreme responses while we were up north this last weekend. First of all, the sun revolves around Matt. Remember me saying that last time up north when it was very hot Matt was angry because he couldn’t sleep? He wanted all of the fans off so my mom turned them off. So what? Who cares if he is angry? What, is he going to hurt our children like he hurt us? About the diet, my mom was going to wash off the grill after we made hamburgers just in case there was something in the seasoning that Matt was allergic too. That is too extreme. When he comes to my house he brings his own hand towel because he may be allergic to my detergent. That is too extreme. He also brings his own soap. That is too extreme. Matt is allergic to one kind of sugar and not another, but the canned food label only says sugar. Perhaps we should call the company and ask what kind of sugar they use. That is too extreme. He can no longer have baked beans because he is allergic to the pork now. 

Mark and Carla decided to have a pig roast for their wedding in 2 weeks. Matt now can’t eat what they are serving. My parents asked if they could stay at  Carla’s house for the wedding because of the special diet and linens that needed to be used for Matt.  Carla said that she didn’t have anywhere else to get ready, to put on her dress. Emily passed on a word of advice to Carla that apparently I gave her, to set boundaries. Emily said that my mom asked her to ask what kind of butter was in the mashed potatoes on her wedding day. Emily is right, the bride has too many other things she has to worry about. Mom asked Mark if Matt would be the best man at the wedding. Mark just said that in passing a couple weeks ago because he hates being the center of attention. Tensions are high, no one is ready. 

Recently, my brother Luke and I have been discussing taking our families on vacation this winter. I told Luke that mom might want to bring Matt along. He said absolutely not. I agree. I’m sorry, I can’t live like this anymore. If we decide this week to fly down to Florida, either my brother or I will have to be the bad guy. We love our mother and Matt, but this extreme favoritism just brings resentment from the rest of us. We have our own problems with our own kids. I don’t think that scrubbing down the grill is going to make a difference. I know mom needs to feel like she has some control. 

I am sorry, I feel very angry today. I realize that parenting a forever child is difficult for the parents, but guess what? It is hard for the siblings as well. We spent our whole lives dealing with all of this crap. Just because you are martyrs doesn’t mean that we don’t struggle. I’m sorry to be so edgy, some bad things happened today that I can’t talk about now. I will probably be able to talk more about it tomorrow. 

Bracing myself again

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Today was a very humid day. I tried to get a run in before work, but was greeted by thunder and torrential downpours so I waited until my lunch break. After the holiday weekend, I spent a long day at work racing around putting out fires. I was able to get in a 6 mile run in though. It was a tough run. It seemed like my whole body hurt. My back, shoulder, wrist, right hip, and left knee were sore today. My knee hurt more than last week. If it doesn’t get better soon, I may make a doctor appointment. I always thought that running was a relatively cheap sport. What do you need really? My husband caused a big stir a couple years back by being a barefoot runner. Talk about cheap! He did spend a lot on bandages until his feet got tough as leather. He now runs with minimalist shoes which oddly enough never seem to wear out. Over the years, I have acquired more running gear. Plus money spent on races. Now if I end up having a running induced injury, I can see it being an expensive sport. 

It wasn’t like I did anything strenuous over the weekend to cause this pain. I watched the men do the heavy lifting. It was pretty nice giving unsolicited advice with my 2 little nieces next to me. It helped prevent unwanted responses. Lol. It is hard for me to stand and watch the men work. Here my dad is pushing 70. He gets winded walking across the room. I feel guilty standing by when I am in great shape. I asked Paul why I can’t help the guys. He said I complain too much. Oh, slow down. It’s too heavy. Sad thing is that he is probably right. So far all I’ve done is complain about everything that hurts. Whaaaaa. 

I haven’t been sleeping well either. Oh, insomnia, my nighttime companion. I recall sleeping well once over the last couple of weeks and it was drug induced. It was after I took meds for my crown. I have become used to being tired. About 2 decades ago I had a sleep test that said that I never go into a deep sleep, so I never feel rested. As a teen it took me forever to fall asleep and I didn’t stay asleep. Now I fall asleep pretty good, I just spend an hour or more awake at night and wake up early. Probably stress and hormones. I am going to try taking some melatonin tonight to see if I can sleep. I come from a long line of poor sleepers. My dad has severe sleep apnea and restless leg syndrome. I always thought that my mom couldn’t sleep because of the kicking and snoring. After sleeping in different beds, my mom doesn’t sleep any better than I do. What a wicked bunch indeed. 

Sorry, it is just hard for me to feel physical pain without an exciting story to tell.  I am just getting old. It is hard to watch my body have limitations while watching my teens not motivated to do all that they can while they can. It is hard to focus at work who you have a sleep hangover without the fun the night before. The more sleep deprived I get, the moodier I become. I walk around like a irritable zombie. My IQ drops at least 2 standard deviations. 

Okay, enough with the pissing and moaning. I did decide that I want to do my first triathlon next summer. That is if I can still walk. 

A sailor’s return to health and hearth

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Today is the day that my husband comes home. A week ago he went off sailing into the sunset with a bunch of other sailors. I am glad that he sailed away. Since we work together and are practically inseparable, it was good to appreciate him in his absence. With the stresses of running a business and raising teenagers, we both do our part in keeping the antacid pharmaceutical companies afloat. Some time putting stress on the back burner helps keep the burning acid fires at bay. 

I am sure that the men were happy to get away from their wives nagging them about how much they eat, drink, or smoke. I do my fair share of nagging, I know. Paul is 6 years older than me, women live longer than men, plus longevity is on my side not necessarily his. So I figure that statistically speaking I should outlive him by 13 to 20+ years. We have been together 20 years this month, almost half my life. And I almost lost him once about 10 years ago. 

Ten years ago… I was staying at home taking care of our 3 little kids while Paul was building his own business. It was a one man show back then. Paul started having a lot of back pain. Our dr gave him cortisone shots and muscle relaxers, but the pain didn’t go away. After further testing, a cyst was discovered in his kidney area. No problem the dr said and plans were made to have an ultrasound to aid in the removal of the cyst. When we got to the appointment something was wrong. The dr didn’t like what he saw. He feared that the cyst was cancerous and trying to remove it by a simple procedure would tear it open and spread the cancer all over his body. Special tools needed ordering and surgery would be required. 

This all happened right before thanksgiving. Life went on. We had the whole family over for thanksgiving as planned. Paul got up early and cooked the meal in a tremendous amount of pain. We prayed and we worried. Cancer, the thought of forever losing my husband. The procedure required a major surgery that involved removal of a couple ribs, a week in the hospital, and a long recooperation time. Plus it was going to be expensive. Like most small business owners, we had a very high deductible and only went to the dr for catastrophic events. 

I remember the day of surgery quite well. It happened in the afternoon. The pastor and another church member prayed for my husband. Then I was left sitting in the waiting area for hours alone. I brought a book with me that I must have read the same sentence over and over. I looked down at the lonely desolate streets and watched the street lamps come on. I thought of facing life alone as I watched the wind blow the remainders of the late fall leaves swirling away. The dr finally came out and said that everything was ok. Paul had a cyst the size of a football on his adrenal gland, but it was most likely not cancerous. After I saw that he was safe in his room, I headed home. The weather took a turn for the worst. There was black ice everywhere. A car slid off the overpass and lay overturned in the ditch. There were many accidents on the way home that night. But we lived through that day!

Paul lost a lot of weight. He was thin and sickly which says a lot since he was always a big man. He needed help. I had to take him to work. He needed help getting up and down the stairs to his office. One step at a time. This was before Internet allowed him to work remotely. So much for recovery time. It was before I knew how to do the work myself. But he dragged his sore, heavily medicated body in. It was painful to watch. At the time, he was also taking a 4 credit master’s degree accounting class. He spent the weekends, when he should have been resting, working on his accounting spreadsheets and then finals. This is why I love this man, he preserveres. I admire his strength. 

Go ahead, take a week off. 

Running etiquette, rules, and humor top 10

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After almost getting hit again by a car today, I decided to scrap the blog I was going to write and focus a little bit on running etiquette for runners and maybe especially more so for nonrunners. 

Here is my top ten list:

1. If you see a runner on the road while you are driving, it is best to move over to the other lane if possible. Runners don’t like the uneven ankle twisting gravel on the shoulder. They like jumping into a ditch even less. If there is a car in the other lane, just slow down. It won’t kill you to take a few minutes to slow down a little. But it could kill us if you don’t. I decided to wave at the people that follow my rules of the road. Maybe a little positive reinforcement goes a long way. 

2. If you are a woman and a guy in a service truck obeys these rules then just ignore them. Waving could signal more than positive reinforcement of rules. One time my friend and I had a service tech guy stop us on the road. He said, “Girls, wanna cucumber?” He actually had a bag of cucumbers, but you never know. After several strange encounters like this and being whistled at, it is better not to even look. If I wanted to get hit on, I would have joined a gym. 

3. Runners know when you are lost and need directions. The elderly women wanting to know where a street down the road was while peering over their glasses at a mapquest map were probably lost. The guy with the septic pumping truck plastered with a local address was probably not. 

4. If you suffer from anxiety, you should try running. I always had a nervous energy while being tired all the time. Running mimics my body’s response to anxiety. It makes your heart race, you sweat, and at times you feel like you are going to pass out or die. It does help my body deal with anxiety by comparing stressful situations to running. Okay, control your breathing. Relax, body. It is just like running. If driver’s knew at times how close I felt to passing out, maybe they wouldn’t drive so close to me. 

5. I always run in busy areas. People see me. That is ok, I don’t think that running on remote back roads or trails alone is very safe. Plus on busier roads dogs are more likely to be tied up. Believe me, it is not fun tripping over a dog that ambushes you. Been there, done that, and have the scar. 

6. Running at night makes it hard for me to fall asleep at night. I like to tackle a run first thing in the morning or over lunch time if it is really cold out. It actually gives me energy the rest of the day. 

7. It is probably best to avoid an injured runner or someone who stopped running before a big race. Running makes me happy and helps me cope with life. Without it, you will have to cope with me roaring like an injured caged wild animal. Blogs full of profuse profanity. Grrrr#***%#! Just kidding, but you get the picture. 

8. Runners are always happy to see other runners on the road, unless you sneak up on them and scare them like I did to someone this morning. Sorry. Nothing motivates me more than seeing other runners on the road. I feel an instant comraderie when I see strangers in running shirts when I am not on the road. If you are a runner, I love you. Nevermind that you could be a serial killer. 

9. If you are forced to run on a treadmill when it is 20 below at least watch a good horror or thriller flick. Run a Netflix marathon. Soap operas are probably the worst thing to watch. Isn’t that what you are running from anyway? The craziness of your own life. I found that running is a great way to relieve anger, anxiety, or life stresses. 

10. Runners are the best type of people. They are adventurous and fun. They don’t care about what they eat for the most part. I eat healthy, but do not have to justify calories from that cheeseburger or dark beer. I have the energy, stamina, and endurance to be open to anything. Would you rather spend Saturday night with a couch potato? Not me, I am out to live my only life to its fullest. 

Back to school stress

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I woke up crabby this morning. Irritable. Stressed. My 3 kids have summer school this week sporadically all day between the hours of 8 AM and 8 PM. It really wouldn’t be that big of a deal except that we live 20 miles from the school. I made 2 trips to the school today to pick up and drop off kids, my daughter made one trip to school which equals over 2 hours of combined effort. Plus I fit in a 6 mile run and put in a couple hours at work. I feel downright exhausted. Any stress that was removed over the weekend was put back on the minute I walked back in the door. Mom can I?.. Troubles waking up my son early to go to school. I also faced the prospect of confronting a teacher today as well. I hate confrontation. The teacher was not happy that I was having my teenage kids waiting at school between activities. With drop off times at 8 AM, 9 AM, 11:30 AM, and 4 PM and pick up times at 10 AM, 2:30 PM, and 8 PM I didn’t see how this was going to happen. I was angry and spent some time swearing. I did talk to the teacher and she was understanding. Thank God! I haven’t developed my super mom powers yet of being in 10 places at once. 

I’m also getting the back to school ads in the mail. What a racket that is. When it is all said and done, I will probably spend over a thousand dollars on it. You know what, I am going to keep the receipts this year to tell you how much I spend! Great blog idea. Thanks. The sad part is that I don’t think they need half the crap that I buy on their list. Or they lose it. Or, as was the case last year, some supplies were stolen. Lots of times I just buy the cheap crap. No designer notebooks with puppies, kitties, or football players for my kids. School clothes are a little different, I usually go midline there. Cheap shoes and clothes wear out in a matter of weeks. If I am lucky the shoes and clothes will last long enough for the kids to grow out of them. That is not saying much as my son grew a foot within the last year. 

Talking about supply lists, who creates these things anyway? Your child needs exactly 10 number 2 pencils but 3 need to be yellow, 3 green, and 4 red. Buy dry erase markers, but wait they need to be odor free. Buy 9 glue sticks, but only of a certain brand the others won’t be accepted. Accordion folders only, trapper keepers will be confiscated. Hey, aren’t sciccors considered a weapon now? Paper non perforated made from recycled materials. Highlighters, no fluorescent colors. Permanent markers, non staining narrow tip. Gym shoes, non skid laced only. And the list goes on… I think there is a sadistic teacher out there making these lists because they have to put up with our bratty kids all year. They laugh envisioning us at the 30th store grovelling on the floor because the last pink eraser is sold out. I miss the days when mom sent us off on the first day of school with a couple of folders, pencils, and paper and called it good. 

What happened after….

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Almost two years after the birth of Angelique, I had another baby. A little boy that I will call Alex. Alex was an easy baby. He was always content, rarely cried, and followed a very consistent feeding and sleeping schedule. Both babies slept through the night at around 2 months even though I nursed them. I figured I had this parenting thing down pat. Life was going fairly smoothly for awhile. After those first couple of years of peace, life got a little dicey. 

After Matt attacked Angelique on her 4th birthday, life got a little crazy. My mom couldn’t accept that I needed a break from my violent autistic brother for awhile. She pleaded, pressured, and begged to have Matt in our life again. She would drive over a couple of times a month just to have Matt wave at my kids through the car window. She would help out if Matt was included. I couldn’t risk my 2 and 4 year old being hurt by a grown man. I couldn’t. Matt almost exclusively attacked little girls. It wasn’t long after this that I found out I was pregnant and having a baby girl. I didn’t want to tell anyone the sex of the baby, so my mom figured out it was a girl or I would have said something. 

Right around this time, I started babysitting for the neighbor girl about 50 hours a week. She started calling me mom and hanging out with us when I wasn’t babysitting. Every weekend she would stay at her grandma’s while her parents partied. I secretly resented them for having a break. I can’t say that I didn’t feel relief after they eventually divorced and moved away. Also, during this time my husband had started a business on the side. He was working for another company and went down to part-time so he could do this. He eventually used up all of his vacation days and they gave him an ultimatum. Either come back full-time or leave. He left. The stress started piling on again. 

When it came time to schedule my final c-section I opted to do it on a Friday. I had images of watching my other 2 kids while I was in the hospital if it was on a Monday like they suggested. My mom came early Friday morning to watch the kids, thankfully Matt did not get up that early. Arabella was born. Paul went to work. He was a one man show and we had bills to pay. Mom dropped the kids off mid morning as Matt had a dentist appointment. Paul had the kids with him off and on at the hospital all weekend. He had someone from church watch the kids Monday morning to pick us up from the hospital. Then my mother-in-law helped Monday and Tuesday. After that I was on my own, less than a week after major surgery with a 4 year old, 2 year old, and a newborn. A newborn that cried incessantly. That didn’t sleep through the night for a year. 

I felt hurt and angry at my mom for leaving me alone when I needed her the most. Matt always came first. I gave up my childhood for this? In my mom’s defense, she was working full-time and it was her busy time at work. Matt still lived at home and she no longer had my help. Six weeks after Arabella was born, my grandma had open heart surgery and for some reason I was handed the baton of throwing all of the holiday parties. I ended up getting mastitis twice and blamed myself for having a difficult baby because I was very stressed. 

Real life Tetris 

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What is easier, training for a marathon or blogging about painful events in my life? In analysis, they both take approximately the same amount of time per week. I would say, without a doubt, that training for a marathon is much easier. I only feel tired and perhaps physically sore after running. I feel tired, sometimes upset, depressed, and emotionally sore after blogging. 

Is there anybody out there? Am I all alone? Where have the other siblings of the disabled gone? Have you escaped? Have I not? How can I? Why can’t I? I don’t want to do this anymore. It is too personal. The feelings are too raw. I am picking away at old poorly healed scabs. This worries me. 

I feel very overwhelmed in general. I was just notified of mandatory practices for my kids at school the next couple of weeks that conflict with other mandatory practices. When do I have time to work? What about work? We are picking up our biggest client ever the end of this week. It is great, but overwhelming. Will I be able to perform? Will I be able to handle the work? I feel like I am playing Tetris right now. Pieces falling haphazardly on other pieces and nothing fits. I am fighting to stay in control. I worry about the things I can’t control. Am I all alone?

The cure for autism, part 9

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It started out the way these things usually do. My contractions were 2 minutes apart. I was due on my birthday and it was that week. The contractions didn’t lead anywhere and neither did the pitocin induced labor. I left the hospital the next day with an empty car seat. The nurses joked on my way out that they would see me later that day. Didn’t happen. 

The following week, I made it in to my appointment. I was now a week overdue and the doctor said it looked like a big baby. They scheduled to induce me again early the next morning. Another day of pitocin induced labor with no results until they broke my water. But they wouldn’t break my water until what seemed like 10 medical students got to feel my cervix. Then started the 2 hours of pushing without the urge to push. The baby never made it into the birth canal and was showing signs of stress. Stop pushing your baby could get stuck in the birth canal, sign these forms, and off to the surgical room. Seventeen years ago today ushered in the birth of Angelique Hope, 8lbs 13 oz. 

My mom said that this baby was going to finally pull Matt out of himself, a new cure for autism. Matt was an uncle for the first time. 

I graduated from college in May, got married in August, and was pregnant by October. After a fruitless job search, I decided to do what I did off and on for my whole life, be Matt’s caregiver this time with Angel. My mom and Matt became obsessed with Angel, the only difference was Matt’s obsession was dark.  Angel grew into a beautiful and happy little girl. I should have seen it coming, but I was blinded by optimism. 

It happened on Angel’s 4th birthday at her party. Angel wanted everyone to watch her dance around and sing. Matt said, “Everybody watch this” and proceeded to grab Angel’s arm and start twisting. Paul and Luke had to struggle to get Matt off of Angel. My mom was screaming not to hurt Matt. Luke took Matt home. Matt muttered to himself for hours, evil laughter and delight that he obeyed whatever voices where telling him to hurt her. Thankfully, Angel was not seriously hurt. 

I had now entered the second most difficult period of my life. After this happened, we decided to cut Matt out of our life for awhile. I couldn’t stand to watch my own children get hurt the way I was. This also cut my mom out of my life because Matt still lived at home and they were always together. For a period of about five years, I lost all support from my family and felt very alone. 

Still no cure.