Does he have a lot of nosebleeds usually?
Yep, he may have got a bump in rugby or could be coz he sneezes A LOT - anyhoo, will go and get him re-cauterised
<must phone for appointment>
Throwing in an oy.
I don't see why a human rights lawyer is ridiculous. What am I missing? An advocate for R. For you. Someone who's working for you, not part of the system. Someone who may have had some experience in similar matters. I don't care what the SS people say. Something like this has to have happened before. Maybe just not to them.
Regardless of what I think (I'm thousands of miles away and not a mother), I'm behind you. Whatever you decide. I'm with you.
Throwing in a phooey.
Still here with an ear and a hand to hold. Still thinking of you Iz-, S & R.
Joining the girls and their wishes. (((Izzie)))
Hickory Dickory Dock...
I needed to talk
And know not how
My head hurts bad
I’ve a furrowed brow
It comes out like this
A bit hit and miss
The thoughts overtake
But I don’t seem to break
Not wanting a scene
Nor to be a drama queen
It’s simply a yell
When there’s no-one to tell
It didn’t really matter coz ‘they’ never claimed to care
All the many things that happened that ‘they’ didn’t have to share
'They' did their job then walked away; another kid, another day
“He won’t engage, it’s not our fault, there’s nothing more to say”, said ‘they’
This kid is mine, I can’t forget
And tho he’s grown, he’s not a safe bet
And after a phonecall from a guilt-ridden Gran
Who’d been told a story about a certain young man
She didn’t know whether to tell me or not
But eventually I got her to spill out the lot
And after some phone calls with them who are ‘they’
I get the full picture of what happened yesterday
A broken mirror and do your best
To cut the heart out of your chest
Of course it’ll heal and fade to grey
But mind scars stay, they don’t go away
Who knows why, these things he dared
I know he’s afraid and I know he’s scared.
A cry for help, but no one’s there
When he needs them most they just aren’t aware
So he cries out again with a shard of glass
And another psyche enters this chapter of farce
One more dx along with the rest
And send him away to do his best
They don’t keep him because he’s together, composed
So he’s back in his flat feeling tired and morose
I get how he feels, why it’s hard, such a chore
When nothing feels right and you know there is more
You can see it and want it, and you have been told
To reach out your hands and quickly grab hold
But when you’re shaking and then you lose touch
You’re again left with nothing, after not having much.
And his carer who cares and shared as a sharer
Cannot deal any longer, and can’t be his bearer
So he has to walk, find his peace somewhere new
Now no-one is left who saw how my child grew
No-one but “we” can tell of the plight
Of the child who is weary of life and the fight
He’s still just a kid, no matter his age
A kid who get’s angry and is so full of rage
A kid who can laugh, is so generous with all
Egocentric and tough, yet feels so very small
No esteem, no belief, no safe step to tread
A life that destructs with a feeling of dread
A child who we all just happen to love
But one who never felt he was quite good enough.
So he harms to release the pain that’s indoors
And get’s more scars to even the scores
He battles himself whilst we look on as he trips
And notch this one up to another of his blips
We can’t change the way he sees who he is
All we can do is be there to give
‘They’ say ‘they’ now understand a bit more
Of why we screamed and banged at their door
‘They’ also admit to being out of their depth
Are anxious and nervous at what he’ll do next
But of course he is out of the system called “child”
He kept things together, wasn’t mad nor too wild
But slowly change happens, we’ve seen it before
When those big nasty demons find the way to the fore
And now that he's in the system "adult"
Whatever should happen will be all his fault
E'en tho they admit he does not have the right care
It's not their problem if he won't share!
Too little too late is where we are now
Just a head hurt again and another furrowed brow
And whilst my kid tries so hard to explain
That he’s perfectly normal and completely sane
He doesn’t remember how he got cut
He just saw the blood and said “but, but...”
So now I await the next phone call
Screaming at “a system” who won’t play ball
On Monday he has to tell them why
He jumps out of windows when he can’t fly
But he can’t tell them that coz he’ll then have to own
All the things that went on in the place we called home
And if he doesn’t meet the criteria they state
The benefits get cut for a job that awaits
A job, how cool! wouldn’t that be great?
If you’re neurotypically able to play it that straight
But when your mindset is one that’s not clear
It’s just not that easy when you’ve so much you fear
It’s not like he doesn’t want to be like the rest
He tries so hard to but his head is just messed
From the outside he looks so totally whole
But the inside is tortured, a soul in a hole
And when you’re misfortuned with a mind that’s awry
The kid finds an outlet so a “big boy” can cry
And tho it’s not really a thing he should do
It’s how he copes whist looking for a clue
So here I am writing a wee ditty
Not to be clever or funny or witty
It’s just how it shuffles around in my head
Coz i wonder how long before he’ll be dead
It wouldn’t be done with malice nor intent
It certainly wouldn’t be a gift heaven sent
But it may well happen if this all goes on
And he isn’t able to be someone strong
Not a tear has been shed coz again it’s not real
When you live in a body that simply can’t feel
Then one day it comes out, in whatever form
When you wracked on the inside, twisted and torn
And you’re not even stumbling or angry or sad
Then you don’t quite know if that makes you bad
And this isn’t said to cause upset or shock
It’s just I keep hearing the imaginary clock
I really don’t feel anything at all
I’m not toppling over, not even a fall
It’s not that I’m hard or don’t have a heart
It’s just that it is what it was at the start
The years go on by and everything does move
I couldn’t make a difference so I’ve nothing to prove
So I sit writing words coz there’s nothing to be done
I can’t really hide nor have somewhere to run
But oddly enough in this weird bag of tricks
A mom sits and clicks whilst the bomb in her son ticks...
the mouse ran up the clock
the clock struck 1, the mouse ran down
Hickory Dickory Dock
tick tock, tick tock, tick tock
ah dear friend
it's so hard on you and your sons
Dear Izzie, you're in my thoughts, will your suffering ever stop?
I can't think of anything worthwhile to say. Sometimes words just don't cut it.
You're in my heart and in my thoughts.
(((Izzie))) Oh sweet woman.
For what it's worth, I think you're absolutely amazing.
I felt every one of those lines, Izzie. My heart aches for you and your boy.