Anonymous

As I write this today, TLM is in his room screaming that he's going to kill me.

Earlier today I told him he should take a nap when he finished his eggs...the wrong words on my part...and he went upstairs and dumped out 500 Legos on the floor. Now he's upstairs and he's supposed to be cleaning them up, I refuse to help.

Today was one of the bad days. He ran away once already, I am back to locking the doors at the top where (for now) he can't reach. I yell and I scream, and in the back of my mind I secretly wish that the neighbors would call the police because that may be the only way I get a break from all of this. I swear, because it's better than hitting, and now he swears back. And I think I'm going to hell because I believe with all my being that I am one of the worst mother's alive. He has a disability, one that makes him succumb to his mania and it's not his fault. But at the end of the day, I forget all that, and I'm tired, and I'm alone, and I can't do it all - I become the bad mom that I despise.

He's violent again, hitting me and throwing things at me. I know there will come a time, maybe not this year but soon, that I won't be physically strong enough to protect myself against him when his stability is in question.

On the outside, the 'me' that everyone sees, I am strong and an advocate and a 'wondermom' of sorts. On the inside, the anonymous 'me', I am scared and I am alone and I don't know what I am doing. I'm sure that I am scarring him, that he will recount these days when he's older of when I would scream at him and turn red in the face with anger. Hopefully when he's older he will understand that I tried my best and that behind it all, I really loved him and cared for him and was just trying to hold it all together.

I hate the unknown; and his future, and my own, is a huge unknown. I don't know what it will be like when he's 13 and manic...I do know 3, 4, 5, and 6. I'm meeting 7 and it's not any prettier than the others. I see his cues faster, I already have an appointment with the psychiatrist for next week which is way farther ahead of the game then we were last year. I just hope that it's soon enough. I don't want him in the hospital again, it did nothing for us, we gained no speed and stumbled a lot on the way out. The only good it did was give me some sleep, I spend my days wishing for it to end only to spend my nights in near panic over what the next day will bring. It's a viscious cycle and I can't break free - not until he is freed of his mania, unfortunately, that can take 1/4 of a year.