Friday, September 2, 2011

Roller Coaster of Moods

He comes home from school cursing,  "I had to talk to an F-ing officer today!  I don't have any money for an F-ing ticket! I am NOT a BAD Person! I come from a good family!  We don't have any money to pay any damn tickets!"

I kindly ask him to remove himself from my room until he can have a civilized, respectful conversation.  He is spinning things and what he is saying does not add up.  He is not making much sense.  It's crazy talk.  I can't figure out exactly what happened.  I ask him to leave my room until he calms down. He refuses. "But I NEED TO TALK to you!"
"I will be glad to talk to you once you have calmed down."  After much coaxing...and by coaxing I mean,  "If you don't leave my room now...I'm going to start swinging this belt!  If you happen to be in the way of it's landing...then so be it!"
This boy is twice my size...I can not physically remove him, but he has to go!  I can see that he is not completely out of control...just angry.

An hour later we have a more lucid conversation.  It's beginning to sound like it was a good conversation with the Campus Resource Officer.   The officer was just walking through the class saying hello to one of the teachers.  He is a very friendly guy.  Red walked in to the class, saw him, and they start talking.  It was kind of a mentoring session...and yes, they do talk about the incident with the friend in the hallway the week before.  He explains the law about following people, and making them feel "uncomfortable" and what the results of that can be.  They go on talking for over an hour about a variety of subjects.

However, by the time he gets home, he has it turned it all around in his mind.  His irrational fear of being arrested like they do on "Cops", pepper spray, beating the suspect, etc.  settles in to his mind.  What is coming out of his mouth does not have anything to do with what actually happened.

Lucky for me, I have leave to go leave to go to Open House at Blue's school. When I come into Red's room before bedtime we have this very lucid conversation where he tells me, that everyone at the high school is just trying to do their job.  "You don't understand mom.  They are all trying to help me.  I have to take responsibility for my actions.  I am a good person.  I have a good heart and I come from a good family.  There are no criminals in our family.  No one is in jail...and I won't be either."

He goes on to say, "Mrs. Blank (his special ed. teacher) helps me a lot!  I can't leave to go to a private school.  I really need her to help me.  No one else is going to help me like she does. I can't leave all of my friends there.  I'm starting to make friends there.  I'm not kidding Mom!  I am not going to that private school!"  He takes it a step further,  and has the same basic conversation with his dad the following morning before school.  NOTE: In his "responsible" state of mind he actually gets up ON TIME..on HIS OWN, and is ready BEFORE the bus comes.  So it is possible!

20 minutes later...he arrives at school.  Suddenly, the irrationality reappears.  He walks into the classroom where his loving, helpful, teacher is and starts, "Why the HECK DID YOU MAKE ME TALK TO THAT OFFICER YESTERDAY!?"  He goes on and on and on all day long...refusing to do any work.  Mind you...she had nothing to do with his talking to the officer.

By the time he gets home yesterday, "Mrs. Blank is a liar! She's the worst person I've ever met! I can't go to that freakin' school anymore! Mrs. Blank just wants me to go to jail!  That's all she ever talks about.  She lies to you!  She talks badly about you! And she lies to me!"

Whew!  And we're just in the second week of school.  There is no school for Red this morning.  Instead, we spend the morning in the Psychiatrist office getting his meds adjusted...again.  I think I may need to get mine adjusted.  I just want to zone out and not feel every one of these crazy emotions that he goes through.  If I feel this bad...I can only imagine what he is actually going through.

My Facebook status last night, "Forget the margarita...maybe I just just have a shot!" And trust me...I'm a lightweight.

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