Treading Water

Hey there,

I am so sorry I've been neglecting our blog lately. Last night when you called I was at baseball, and by the time we were done it was too late to call back. I meant to write when I got home, but the evening slipped away (that happens when you get home and eat dinner at 8:30). I picked up a new book at Costco yesterday on a total blind whim - an author I don't know - and tried to get into it at bedtime. I'm such a snob, I swear. It's a crime-mystery-drama type novel, so immediately after the title caught my eye (What the Dead Know) I put it back down and moved on to the real books. I went back, though, curious. I liked the cover. While it is on the NYTBSL, it's not your average dimestore paperback, or so I told myself. I'm a CSI junkie, for God's sake. Who am I to judge crime literature? I'll probably freakin' love that too.

I've been fighting another funk the past few days, so I got up and went to the gym and tanning first thing this morning. That's as far as I've gotten; here I am, sitting on my ass, as usual. I decided last night that I really, really need to stop feeling sorry for myself and move forward with my life, but that's easy to commit to at 10:30 at night, when all I have to do to achieve it at that moment is go to sleep. 8:00 the next morning is a little more of a challenge. I actually have to be productive and return phone calls and clean my house and move among the living. A couple of days ago, I was watching the parents of Amanda Knox on tv, talking about her being over there in Italy. Whether or not she's guilty, who knows. I'm not really following the case. But as I sat there listening to her father, skyping from Rome or wherever she is, I had this tiny epiphany:

Good God, Amanda. Get off your self-pitying ass and get back in the game. You have a troubled teenager. These people are trying to get their kid out of prison in a foreign country. Hello!! Talk about relative!!

The realization empowered me only temporarily; it's like I can't hold on to the momentum. One conversation with K, one phone call from the school, one hour documenting, one person asking "How's M?" - that's all it takes to make me retreat.

I have this friend, actually JT's ex-wife, who (clearly) has had a pretty rough couple of years. Now a single mom raising two kids (ST, the 14-yr old, is following pretty closely in M's footsteps), working full time for the first time in her life...bla bla bla...I swear she's one of the most supportive people in my life right now. She emails me regularly and calls and leaves little pep talk messages on my phone - and you know what? I can't even bother to call her back. Or even email. I just can't engage. I want to reciprocate the support; I do pretty well at my parent support group, listening and helping others, so why can't I be there for T? Or C, my daughter with whom I don't think I've spoken in three weeks. Or you or any of my other friends who might be struggling with equally important or painful life experiences?

I'm drained. MC says that's normal. She says it's normal that I want to nap all the time, this is exhausting. But, again, relativity: is Amanda Knox's family asleep? They're on the flippin' Today Show. I can barely hold audience with my neighbors at the bus stop!!

Yes, I know I have the power to get up and get going. I'm trying - some days I try harder than others. Tonight is our first Family Reconciliation Counseling session with Jeremy, our case worker. This is in-home intensive counseling once or twice a week; we chose to involve K too since M's living there but I tell ya, I wish I had NEVER let him in on this thing in the first place. He's absolutely sabotaging the entire process and making my case workers insane. I supposed the judge will hear all on Thursday (we go to court again) and hopefully K will trip all over himself trying to explain why he's not abiding by the court order. Long story on that - I'll save it for a phone call.

My goal today is to get the house spotless, lest the Parenting Police (aka Jeremy) should note something that screams child abuse! in this terrible, awful place M refuses to call home (he calls it "your house". Whatever.)

Eight weeks is a long time, I know, but hang in there. That's the double edged sword of a great spring break...that whole having to go home part.

I should be home after 3:00 if you are still up for a conversation this afternoon - I'll try to call.

Hope you're having a decent day!
Love,
A