I know why I'm tired. I know there's not a whole lot that can be done to fix my tired, or Seymour's.
I also know that those of us who are stressed find it easy to judge other people and become righteous, because we know that we, or our friends, have it worse financially or logistically or emotionally.
Oh, wait, that last one doesn't count, does it?
It should. I tend to believe people who confide that they're overwhelmed, even if their scenario appears
less intense than mine. Because I'm not living their life, or trying to keep their bubble from popping. I wrote about our tendency to compare and judge stress levels somewhat thoughtfully
in July. In this, a less thoughtful moment, please know that those with uncharitable comments about the steam-venting and consternation-processing that follows can fuck right off.
Abilify at its current dose does not seem helping Leelo as we'd hoped. It has been three weeks, and so far we are seeing:
1) Increased irritability, manifesting in more intense and focused bouts of aggression
2) Constant hunger/unrelenting requests for food
3) Increased spaciness/distractedness (as noted by teachers and therapists)
4) Increased sleepiness after taking the drug, but
5) Early waking, at or around 5:30 AM. Occasionally as early as 3:30!
6) Poop witholding! Even with resumed extensive teletubby toilet time
This means that, when Leelo is home and without an aide, which is most of the time, I do very little aside from monitoring him so he doesn't hunt down Mali and deck her, distracting him from asking for food, or trying to get him to stay on task. There is very little successful setting Leelo up with activities while I get things done. This means I currently spend very little time with his sisters. The girls are put out to the TV pasture or sent into their room to play.
This means that even making a simple dinner is an exercise in panic, as I monitor Leelo and his activities on the counter, the girls wherever they are, and ensure that they do not cross paths. I almost had a heart attack when Iz had her friend Violet over for dinner two days ago, trying to play the role of the cheerful mom who was providing a regular fun dinner for the girls (make-your-own paninis) while surreptitiously keeping already-fed Leelo from attacking me from behind.
This means that we shouldn't go anywhere with Leelo. At the moment I'm not even taking him to the grocery store. I certainly am not doing any errands with him and Mali in tow, not even our previously ritualized Tuesday morning run to the local coffee shop.
This means that it's not a good idea for us to have people over, not unless they're aware of what they're potentially getting into, and have heightened perimeter awareness and fast reflexes. Iz's friends are starting to realize that our home is not the happy fun place to visit that it used to be, which makes me worry for Iz's social life. I am not sure what we're going to do with my Mom, two brothers, and all of their families spending over a week of Xmas joy with us.
I am so scrambled that I didn't make my bed yesterday, for the first time in over a year. That activity, superfluous as it seems, is a sanity watermark for me. Even on days on which I've forgotten to brush my teeth because the bus forgot to pick up Leelo, my bed has been made. I can walk by my bedroom and feel a flash of satisfaction that one small part of my life, at least, is tidy and neat and predictable. But sleep deprivation and overwhelm have stomped out what remains of my already lackluster organizing skills, and not only did the bed not get made, but I forgot about it until I was running out the door to get the three kids to their three different morning destinations and had no time to go back. I am trying to keep a list of all the everything I'm supposed to be doing, but it is so overwhelming that, instead of picking a list item after Leelo goes to bed, I generally decide to watch an episode of crappy TV (and instantly fall asleep on the couch anyhow). It's taken me three days to finish this post, and I have a slag heap of unfinished moans from the past month. The only manageable time is now, in the mornings, while the girls are still in bed.
I am really sick of being hit, head-butted, scratched, shoved, and pinched. And of flinching when my son is nearby. Emotionally sick. Because, occasionally, Leelo is still being sweet and snuggly and giving kisses and asking for hugs, and being the wonderful boy we love. But that Leelo is currently missing more than not.
Dr. R, Leelo's meds doctor, suggested that Leelo's current dose (5 mg) might be insufficient, and recommended that we try dosing him another 5 mg in the morning as well as in the evening. Supervisor E concurs, and said that in her experience an insufficient dose of a drug like abilify can exacerbate rather than alleviate behaviors.
So I have given Leelo a morning dose of abilify today. I hope it helps, hope we have an even slightly more sociable and settled Leelo by the time relatives arrive on the 19th.
And in the continuing theme of whimpers rather than bangs, I dutifully record that this is my 2,000th blog post. Woo-fucking-hoo. I had certainly hoped
Leelo would be a happier, better adjusted boy by now. Maybe by post 3,000. If we make it that far.
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