Across and Inside my Universe

Utah Medicaid servers hacked!

ARGH. First, a year ago, we had information hacked off of Sony's servers, things like names, credit card numbers, account information, things like that.

NOW the state of Utah has been incompetent enough to install a server that didn't have the proper security measures in place, allowing hackers easier access . . . to all sorts of information, on my, my daughter, and 24,000 other Utah Medicaid people. I'm guessing there's more people on Medicaid in Utah than that, so it wasn't everybody; the state's response that they are going to send letters out to everyone affected, and provide credit monitoring services to those whose Social Security Numbers were exposed, indicates the same.

What is WITH these companies, entities, agencies, that are trusted with all this information, that they screw up like this? With Sony, they seem to have had a company-wide lax attitude; in Utah's case, it seems to be some technician's error of either installing a server that shouldn't be installed for such a secure situation, or perhaps someone ordered the wrong type of server and the errors began earlier. Human error, but . . . there should be triple checks, at least, on this kind of thing!

I am feeling very vulnerable, and very violated/exposed . . . .

16 years ago I had someone steal my checkbook and a few things from my wallet, and then they got a woman accomplice and made up a fake id with my name and her picture, and they went around writing bad checks, like for $200 of groceries, and other things. So I know a little about what can happen, although I know identity thieves can do worse.

How safe is YOUR state's Medicaid information? Or your health insurance company's system? Or your credit card company's, for that matter, I believe some big companies recently had hacks as well.

I think that something needs to change, as these are so frequent as to be ridiculous. Perhaps harsher consequences for both the hackers, and companies caught with their pants down. Perhaps laws to create or incentivize better checks and balances on this stuff, at least for government, if not for health insurance companies and other sensitive information as well.

Then again, hackers will get into almost anywhere, unless perhaps you have a government-sized budget to protect a Pentagon-level system. And even that one isn't perfect, no system is.

More attention needs to be paid to these things, because I'm fed up (wait, more attention needs to be paid because of ME? Lol, I'm not that arrogant, that's not exactly how I meant it.)

 

Break With Reality

Eeep.

I was laying/lying? in bed a few minutes ago, when it occurred to me that something I thought over the weekend, and took action on, WASN'T REAL.

It's a minor thing that doesn't have much to do with anything, except the fact that I believed something that wasn't real, and I acted on it! AND, it took me several days to realize this!

Also, it's not caused by medications, I wouldn't think, like the only other time this has happened (but then, I'd realize in 10-30 mins that something wasn't real).

See, I am facing the consequences of some stupid bipolar-influenced decisions lately (doesn't excuse it, perhaps helps explain it) and yesterday I laid in bed and only got up at 8pm, because I didn't want to and/or felt like I couldn't, cope with the reality of my life that I face now. Now I'm freaked because apparently my mind already decided this last week . . .

What I've done is so bad, is so far from my core values, and who I want to be, that maybe my mind just can't cope with the disparity between what I've done and what I value, who I thought I was?

Regardless of that, I'm thinking my psychologist in an hour when I see him will want me in the hospital, and if he does, I'm not going to fight it. I've fought it before, on suicidal issues, but to me, losing one's mind, believing things that aren't real . . . well how could I trust my actions, decisions, thoughts, feelings, judgement, anything, if any, some, or all of these could be based on unreal things? I can't trust my judgment to say I know better than my psychologist and refuse to go to the hospital. I recognize that if I'm thinking things that aren't real, my judgment isn't reliable, even if me saying so at least it implies it's reliable IN THIS MOMENT. I don't know that I can trust that it will be reliable over the course of any particular pariod of time.

So. I really don't want any part of this, but it seems I don't have a choice; I'm not CHOOSING to believe things that aren't real, it just happened.

I'm scared.

Is there part of me that hopes this unreal stuff might have contributed to the bad decisions I made? Sure! That would make me less of a bad person. I can't THINK of anything involved right now that doesn't feel real, but then how would I know if my mind was still believing unreal stuff? Still, I'm thinking it didn't play a part. I take full responsibility for what I did. I think it's understandable that I'd want this unreal thing to be a part of it, but I'm not going to rest on that.

Anyway, don't know if or when they're going to hospitalize me and I certainly don't WANT it but I recognize if my mind is . . . losing touch with reality . . . that it me be objectively what is best. Ugh. Never thought I'd say THAT last.

I may have my husband post comments on this post, possibly as me or whatever's easiest, with him saying it's him, and how I'm doing, in case anyone cares, from time to time, that I relay to him from within the hospital.

Then again, maybe I WON'T end up in the hospital, who knows.

The World is a Poorer Place

For the loss of our dear friend and neighbor, Russ Thompson. It just is. He and his wife are the most Christ-like people we've ever known.

Just a few months ago he was giving me rides to therapy, and was happy to do it, despite me being worried that it was a bother. He said it wasn't and that he was happy to help.

This is the kind of people they are. That he was.

We only found out half an hour ago that he died, we must've got lost in the shuffle because we were very good friends, and, well, I called his wife half an hour ago, to ask how he was doing (he had leukemia) and she said, "You don't know?" and I said I didn't, although of course what she said next was unfortunately made apparent by the You don't know question . . . he had died. I felt like a complete JERK for asking her, "How's Russ doing?" and there she was, about to leave for the funeral home for the viewing. How jarring must that have been for her.

When my daughter overheard my shock as I exclaimed, "WHAT?" as she told me he was dead, she knew who I was talking to and so she guessed what had happened and burst into loud sobs.

How do you go to the viewing of a loved one just an hour or two after learning they've died? Two weeks ago we'd heard they were going to look into bone marrow transplant to extend his life, though not save it. So while I knew he'd eventually pass, I wasn't prepared much for right now. And now, to go see him laying there, dead and peaceful, so soon after the shock of the news, well, I know I'm going to lose it, and I don't want to make things harder for his wife whens he sees me losing it, but I'm not a robot. So how do I go and face this? I don't want to see him lying there.

How do I help my daughter through this?

The Cheapest Care Possible

I don't want to offend any nurses out there, especially the ones who can prescribe.

BUT, when you have as many co-morbid (proper term?) psychiatric conditions as I do, AND especially when you have as many chronic physical health conditions as I do, you really would feel most confident having a psychiatrist, an actual DOCTOR, prescribe your psych meds, since you have so many conditions and medications that can interact with each other.

Now, as I'll apparently be seeing an A.P.R.N, which is a psychiatric prescribing nurse? I'm sure that they have extra education for that, and plenty of experience since they are working for the county's behavioral health system, and see the most disabled and/or severe cases, since they only serve those with Medicaid/Medicare. Lots of people on disability with either of those insurances, so this would be where they go . . . the LCSW I saw for intake interview went out of her way to reassure me that the nurses see severe cases and are very capable (does this mean she thought I was a severe case, or just that knowing they treat severe cases all the time means they are competent to treat anyone?). I got the impression that seeing a nurse instead of a psychiatrist for meds is something alot of people aren't the happiest about.

Anyway, while I'm sure these nurses are capable in many cases, I just feel like I have so much going on both mentally and physically that I'd only be really comfortable knowing a doctor was seeing me; how can I know that these nurses know enough about all the physical health stuff besides the mental health stuff to be able to manage all the issues?

Then again, who WOULD be happy that they'd be seeing a nurse for what they've traditionally thought is a doctor's role . . . I think this is partly based on that, but still . . .

There is part of me that feels like, because this is a government-funded mental health care system, as well as government funded reimbursement for them, that this is why they use the lowest-level providers possible; I was told that they do have ONE psychiatrist, but I'm guessing he only gets sent the most complex or resistant of cases. I was told I'd be seeing a nurse.

I feel like, because I am dependent on government assistance for this, that I will be receiving a lower, cheaper (not necessesarily incompetent) level of care than I would if I had private insurance. I don't think you can argue that these nurses AREN'T less expensive than psychiatrists, which means they are cheaper (although I am not trying to imply that their care is valueless or without dedication, expertise, etc. - it costs less and is less educated than a doctor/psychiatrist, though, is all I'm saying). This makes me feel like I am a second-class citizen, but then, without regular insurance, I kinda feel that way anyway.

I'm sure if something like this was posted over at Shrink Rap, there'd be an outcry from prescribing nurses, and maybe even non-prescribing ones . . . the thing is, though, I feel that prescribing nurses should SUPPLEMENT what a doctor does, not REPLACE them, and it feels like in this case they are being used as replacements. THAT is what feels wrong to me, what feels like I am being given the least expensive care they can get away with.

I'm also annoyed at all the hoops and forms I have to jump through and deal with just to see a nurse . . . I'm sorry if that offends anyone, nurses are very valuable, but I do NOT, I definitely do NOT see them as the primary provider of the medical side of my mental health care. I do not think that is appropriate.

I'd prefer something like initially seeing a psychiatrist, or a psychiatrist with the prescribing nurse present (they'd never do that last, too expensive) for the first couple of appointments and then see the nurse the rest of the time, with maybe a twice yearly check by the psychiatrist; more often if moderate to high problems come up. THAT seems like it'd be more, well, working with both a doc and a prescribing nurse . . .

I guess this post is amounting to a big whine, that might affront a variety of nurses . . . but it's how I feel, and I don't think REPLACING psychiatrists with prescribing nurses is a good thing for mental health care. Supplementing, okay, I can work on getting used to that . . .

I'll have to get used to seeing just a nurse, I guess, but I will not be happy about it. And here I thought I'd come to a new, more open mind about my next shrink, about being more open-minded, more open to different personalities and learning whatever comes to be learned from them. Turns out, I don't get a shrink at all. I'm feeling like I, and other Medicare/Medicaid people, must not be worth it, in the eyes of the government and the people who vote in the people who fund or restrict how such places are staffed.

 

What You NEED Isn't Always What You WANT

So, a while back I posted for a heat-themed Grand Rounds blog carnival that was being hosted at/on Shrink Rap. http://sarebear.typepad.com/blog/2011/06/when-the-doctorpatient-relationship-becomes-heated.htmlUgh, I tried to insert a link the regular way, and it wouldn't.

This last week, for no reason I can figure out, I was thinking about that post, and how it led me to compare my first and third shrinks, and then further led me to realize that I could stand up to my first one (male) and not my third one (female). They were both strong, intimidating personalities. My second shrink was very laid back and mellow.

I thought to myself, "WHY could I stand up to Doctor Number One, and not to Doctor Number Three?" (Names changed for obvious reasons.)

Within about 10-15 seconds, a quiet, deeply felt thought came to me in response, even though I wasn't expecting a response . . . . "Because it was standing up to your mother that got you on the receiving end of her fist." I instantly felt the deeply personal TRUTH of this, and it felt like I'd connected up an essential puzzle piece.

I pondered then, though, that, "Didn't I already "know" that my problems with her were because she raised the same feelings of fear in me that my mother did? That I had already connected up what my mother did to me, with why I was afraid of Dr. Number Three?" What I realized was, I had intellectually realized the connection between #3 and what my mother did, and I'd even told #3 that I was afraid of her because my mother hit me; however, I'd never FELT this inside. It just made sense to me knowing how transference has shown up in the last 7 years of therapy, it just made SENSE. Yet I didn't FEEL it.

THAT's what the difference was when I had this response, this realization this last week. I FELT the truth of this, and it connected everything up on an emotional and other deep levels. It's one thing to KNOW something with your head; it's another to know it in your heart, in the depths of your being, not to get overly dramatic about it . . .

So, it's been a week since that realization, and I've come to another one because of it, and that is that I can now use the word "abuse" to describe the physical, well, abuse that my mother heaped upon me when I was a young teenager (and maybe pre-teen, but that part's fuzzy). Before this, I said in therapy that I just couldn't approach that word because it felt like it was too big, too painful, that the meaning of what she did to me would crash down on me and I couldn't . . . . I tried the word on, especially after my therapist asked me if I would think what my mom did to me was abuse if I heard of someone doing the same thing to their kid, and I said yes, at first, but after that session, I realized I'd HAVE to say NO, because I couldn't, just couldn't, approach the meaning of the word "abuse" and all the pain denying it was "abuse" was holding back.

I did try to cut through the bull a few days after that session, and say, "Really? Your first instinct was to agree that yes it was abuse for someone else, isn't it just you dancing around what's going on, to later say No?" And I thought, maybe it was, but it just felt too dark and horrible . . . this was about two months or so ago (not counting the first times I avoided approaching "abuse" several years ago when I first brought it up in therapy in more than passing.)

Back to the main point(s) of this post . . . Today I was thinking that I am actually quite GRATEFUL to my most recent psychiatrist, much as I dislike her, for helping me (not consciously on her part, as far as I can tell, given her objection to the notion of transference) to make more progress on a difficult, painful issue than I've ever had. For being what I NEEDED, even if it wasn't what I WANTED.

I realized, and I never thought I'd feel or say this about her, that I am GLAD she was my psychiatrist at this time in my life; things just came together to help me learn from her, and I can take what I've learned and appreciate both it, and the fact that she taught me, willingly or not, something that I'm not sure I'd have learned any other way.

Now, I am moving on and finding another psychiatrist. Could I perhaps have learned further from her, in dealing with her and processing my reactions, about how I feel about what my mom did to me and perhaps some measure of how to get over it? Perhaps. The thing is, I also NEED a psychiatrist I can trust, and I can't trust her to be emotionally safe, or to treat me and my feelings with respect. At this point, I think the "what if" of what I could learn from her is outweighed by my need for a safe psychiatrist; that, and it's an hour round-trip to see her and since I need to ask congregation members for rides to get to appointments sometimes, I really need a closer shrink. This next one is about 15-20 minutes away, which isn't as close as I'd like given I'm asking for rides, but it's better.

I am also quite grateful to the part that Shrink Rap played in my coming to these helpful insights and things; if it weren't for them hosting Grand Rounds, and picking the theme they picked, I'd not have come up with that blog post during the writing of which I realized the things that started off this chain of realizations. So, while they may have played a small part, it is an important part, nonetheless, and I am grateful to them for it. It also teaches me that maybe I should put myself out there more and participate more in things like this . . . Anyway, thanks guys (not that I know if they read my blog or not lol.)

Overheard Psychotherapy - Intensely Complex & Painful Fallout

Well. If one is going to overhear a loved one's psychotherapy session, wouldn't it stand to reason that various random elements in the universe might align to coincidentally allow the overhearing of probably the worst possible session for that person to have overheard?

Just kinda figures, doesn't it . . . .

Imagine, if you will, that events have happened in the previous week that have brought out a surprising (to you) amount of anger, with all sorts of angry thoughts peppered with demeaning and insulting things about a loved one. I am not proud that, in anger, I have thought some really terrible things. I am far from proud, in fact, as you'll see.

SO, in an effort to expunge this intense but over-reactive anger from me, in an effort to see things in a less blown out of proportion way, in an effort to gain a healther perspective, in an effort to process the anger and come to a realization of how I ACTUALLY feel, rather than the extremes to which my mind sometimes goes when angry . . . in all these efforts for good and positive things, and more besides, I opened up in therapy in a way that is often hard to do; I let it all out, the anger, the things I thought in the extremes of my anger, every negative, unpleasant, unkind and even cruel thing that went through my head. Some of these things are things that I know are sensitive areas for this loved one; this makes everything about this situation WORSE. Except for the fact that I recognized I didn't want to hold on to these extreme angry thoughts and feelings; I wanted to see, think, and feel a more healthier, reasonable view.

Well, imagine my shock when, a while after I'm home from therapy, I find out that this loved one overheard all but the first 10-12 minutes of my session! Imagine the feelings of, "But therapy is supposed to be PRIVATE!" Imagine the feelings of being betrayed by the loved one, by the therapeutic environment which was not sufficient to keep what was said in the office, confidential, the feelings of horror when I started to run through my mind the things I had said, and, as if in a disembodied third-person overhead cutaway view, I could "see" the office and the environs outside it, with no roof, and see everyone involved in this situation. Imagine the intense pain I began to feel as I thought of how this person might or could be feeling upon hearing the vile, angry things I was spitting out in therapy . . . . the pain that pierced my heart like a knife, realizing that, though it shouldn't have happened, it shouldn't have become public, it HAD been, and that I had deeply hurt this loved one, whether it "should" have happened or not.

I had all sorts of complex feelings, like, "But I didn't do anything WRONG; I was only trying to do the best by both this person and myself, because I had intentions to in the near future discuss the feelings of anger that had come up about them, but I first wanted to air them in therapy and gain a more healthy view as I would NEVER in a MILLION years have dreamed of ever telling this loved one the things I had thought and felt that I spilled out in therapy . . .

Mostly, though, after the first two hours of shock and a myriad of all sorts of feelings, I mostly felt PAIN. A deep and abiding pain that I had caused such (what I felt to be) DEEP pain to my loved one. As the evening wore on, this pain consumed me more and more until I quickly became incapable of functioning very well at all; in fact, I could not sleep at all that night, and at 8:30am the next morning, I asked for an urgent appointment that day with my psychologist, if he could fit me in.

He did, indeed, fit me in; and later reassured me when I enquired (inquired?) that this was an appropriate request for me to have made, given the situation and my level of distress (well, not in so many words but that's basically what he meant).

After the appointment, having gained a bit of perspective, and a little bit of distance from my pain, I was able to function a bit again, but I was still filled with pain.

I still am, close to a week later, although the feelings, especially those of an anxious nature, were mitigated and reduced by the miraculous to me fact of his eventual forgiveness of me, last week.

I am doing my best to process this and move past it, but it still has a bigger hold than I'd like. I also realize that some time may be part of the necessary healing element, here. Writing will be helpful as well.

Also helpful was the fact that my psychologist was unhappily surprised by the fact that people could hear some or all of sessions (I speak louder than many in day to day life; on the overheard session in question, I had so much to say I was unaware that I was speaking even louder than normal, but apparently not loud enough to elicit any cautions from my therapist . . . . ). See, I have heard bits & pieces of others' sessions since he moved to the bigger office down the hall a few years ago; my loved one has had the same experience of my sessions, hearing bits and pieces.

My therapist is going to put some kind of noise generator, a white noise, ambient noise thing, in the waiting area, after consulting and getting agreement from the lawyers who share that waiting area with him. This made me feel safer, although I won't feel entirely safe again there until it's done, and even then, the fear I feel inside, because I REALLY opened up COMPLETELY and showed the UGLINESS inside that I've always feared would lead to really bad things if people saw it or heard it, well, I don't know when I'll get over that fear, which is obviously fodder for therapy.

Anyway. Just because this person forgave me, doesn't mean they aren't still hurting, but it does mean they've gotten to a better place with it than I have. For my part, I forgave them for not moving to a further location when they realized they were overhearing my private session. Still, I have a whole host of other issues to deal with, and the biggest one may be how to forgive myself. That's something I'm not very good it. Yep, more fodder for therapy.

Double-Booked Psychotherapy Appointments: When It Happens To You

You feel unpleasantly surprised, when you arrive and see the waiting area (in my therapist's case, there's only seating for two) occupied, with a mother and teen son.

You feel brought up short, yanked backwards, because in the car on the way to your appointment, you've been shuffling through a whole host of important things currently going on with you, trying to prioritize, trying to decide what to talk about, and then BAM, the rug is yanked from under you.

Before the therapist's door opens to see the situation (he's running a few minutes late with his 4pm appointment, it's now after five) you start discussing the situation out loud with your husband, knowing the other patients will hear you. You say things like, "I could have sworn he said we were switching to Mondays," and other things that indicate you have a right to be there, too, as you feel as if you have to justify yourself (which you don't, at least not to the other patients, but my anxieties tend to run amok . . . .)

When his door does open, he greets the other patients and then steps out far enough where he can finally see you, and a look of being unpleasantly surprised crosses his face. There's no getting around it, seeing your psychotherapist seem to feel unpleasantly surprised by YOUR presence, by YOU, is slightly jarring to the therapeutic relationship; pushing forward through THAT awkward feeling, you realize that of course this is awkward for anyone (although throughout it all, the other patient(s) never said a word and acted as though the appointment was theirs all along).

So, you step forward to greet your therapist as he gets over his initial surprise quite quickly, flashing through some confusion as he queries you about what you are doing there . . . and you realize inside, feel, that "Oh no, I am really stupid; what and how did I get this wrong?" On the other hand, you DID bring your spouse up to his floor with you, which you usually don't do; this was done in case I remembered our schedule change incorrectly, although I had been pretty sure I'd remembered it right. I pretty much always bring my spouse up when there's been a schedule change, because of anxieties about getting it wrong.

So I explained what I was doing there, and what I thought he'd said during our discussion in December about how our schedule was going to change, and he told me, "Yes, but," and told me some other things he thought he had added that I didn't remember. Quite quickly he started apologizing since there'd obviously been a misunderstanding (it felt, to me, at the time, right there, that perhaps he was apologizing just to speed things up to get to the other people, and not because he actually thought he might have messed up), and I started apologizing as well; things before he went on vacation at the end of December WERE kind of hectic and who knows, maybe I remembered it wrong.

So, after that wrapped up, about 90 seconds total, I and my spouse left, and I said that I felt like an idiot.

Still, I got over it. One does, you know. Everyone makes mistakes, and misunderstandings happen. Whether it was his mistake or my mistake isn't very important to me, anymore, I realized after I got home. I had more time to think on it and really felt more badly for the awkwardness the situation had caused him, than for my being put out at all by it.

Still, it was VERY nice of him to call me a bit after his 5pm appointment was over; he apologized in a way that felt more thoughtful, less rushed to me, but then he'd had some time to think about it since it had happened. He said that he did feel that he'd contributed to the misunderstanding, and he was sorry that he'd had a part in creating such an awkward situation (well this isn't exactly how he put it but it's what I can remember of what it seemed he was trying to get across). I accepted his apology and gave my own; after some time at home (it took an hour lol) some of the things he'd said that he'd thought he added started to sound a little vaguely familiar. So I did indeed feel like I'd either not heard him due to distraction at our last appointment, or that I'd remembered what he said wrong; for his part, based on our conversation before his 5pm appointment started, it seemed like he had remembered our discussion a little incorrectly as well.

Regardless of who remembered and forgot what, the fact that he called me really made me feel better about the slight unpleasant feeling I'd had when he was looking at ME as though I were the cause of something unpleasant; it was really nice of him to call, and I think especially nice, as a professional courtesy, to do it.

Another stigmatizing board game

DeathMatch Asylum

Description of the game:

You’re a patient in a mental hospital. You awaken one morning to discover that all of the doctors and nurses are missing! This means that A) your control mechanisms are missing, and B) you’re low on medication. You do the obvious thing of course, you grab the nearest high-powered weapon and lay into your fellow inmates with a passion!

DeathMatch Asylum(tm) is a miniatures game / board game that simulates the multi-player first person shooter computer games. Play is fast-paced and humorous, and it’s a snap to learn!

I know this appeals to a juvenile male mentality, and setting seems to matter little to that demographic quite often, but this is really quite awful. This is a GAME?

Of course, I'm sure there's been bloody video games set in sanitariums and the like, but I don't think that makes it socially acceptable. The stigma associated with mental illness, especially with anything perceived to be related to "insanity", including hallucinations, etc., seems to make this seem even like a FUN setting for such a game, to some people.

If mental illness were truly seen as equal to other illnesses, well, then we'd either have people setting first person shooter games in cancer wards, or they'd set nothing violent against or by the patients there in either case.

The fact that people would be horrified if they made a game like the above, if it'd be set in a cancer ward, but not for a "mental" ward, well, it shows that we've got a long way to go in reducing and eliminating stigma for mental illnesses.

I could go on and on but here is a Geeklist on Board Game Geek.com of "insane" games; ie, they involve mental illness in some way. Some are rather offensive. Others seem to be "mad" because they are based on Mad Magazine. I haven't checked any out, just scrolled through and saw some horribly offensive ones.

http://boardgamegeek.com/geeklist/1230/item/19573#item19573

 

 

Pummeled by Wind

Well, I was going to blog about what last thursday's wind storm, clocked at 102+ right at the worst of it where we were (and that was the worst of it anywhere) was like, but I feel weary because the winds are coming again. They just started, and will supposedly last for about 13 hours.

Sleep? What's that!

Last Thursday's winds started at 2 am and tapered off around noon; they were equivalent to category 2 hurricane-force winds. Apparently they were NOT canyon winds like was thought for the first half of the storm; I forget the technical term for it, but when the winds come at JUST the right angle, instead of pouring down the canyons they'll just ride up the slope on the other side of the mountains and waterfall crash down on top of us right from the peaks. It certainly felt like something massively violent was crashing down upon us.

The worst of it psychologically was hearing the destruction going on around us; tearing metal, siding peeling away from our building like a banana peel, strip by strip, with extra worry every time one came off, hoping it didn't hit the windows. Hearing a bunch of metal clattering and clanging as things over in the store parking lot to the west of us were torn up, from small things like shopping cart returns (boy those metal poles make a racket when they're flying through the air!), pieces of signage, and other things, added to the discord and sense of destruction.

The tendency to anthropomorphize the wind into some sort of ferocious beast, lashing at us sometimes with whip-like cracks of wind on the windows, or voracious-sounding swirls that seemed hungry for targets, or the sense of being under Thor's Hammer, well these things weren't that helpful to dwell on, although hard not to think about as the violence around us went on. Sleep was out the window; thank goodness nothing broke the windows because also, anytime any debris slapped up against one, there was worry.

But, we surived, power out and all, the place cooling uncomfortably, with us nestled in wool socks and beneath blankets. Storm over, we eventually pulled up roots and stayed elsewhere for the night, leaving faucets dripping to avoid frozen pipes.

The damage and debris afterwards around town were quite startling. Heck, 1000 trees on golf courses alone were down. The ones down in neighborhoods were much more jarring. A 20-30 foot tree limb with branches crashed down yards from our back window. It's still there.

One of the eerie things was how swept beyond clean the front lawns were; I eventually nailed down the "unreal" feeling as the fact that it looked like the artificial lawns/environment in the Truman Show movie. Most of the debris here got swept into our lower stairwells.

Anyway, here's hoping the power doesn't go out tonight cause it's a cold one. I also hope the stupid school district makes better decisions, faster, than last Thursday. I had to decide myself she wasn't going in then 96mph winds about half an hour before school closures were announced. The school was closed Friday as well, so I'm worried they'll push for staying open even if it's dangerous tomorrow morning . . . my daughter walks to school, and I haven't been able to wrangle a ride for her yet if school is open in the morning.

Anyway, we're in for a loud and unnerving night, but the winds should be supposedly only gusting up to 60-65 (last time they said 70 or so, so I'm taking this prediction with a grain of salt.)

Thankful for brick construction despite the peel-off siding (well, in hurricane winds it's peel-off siding lol.) Thankful for our safety, and power, and warmth.

Special Needs Child & Starting Junior High

OY.

It's been two weeks, and I've got a headache just thinking about it.

Every time I think, "Oh, I've just emailed back and forth with x period's teacher and gotten on top of something, " something else will smack me in the face a minute later, like missing work in Computer class because it wouldn't print and she didn't know to ask for help like other kids might.

Or tonight, after sending an email to all her teachers to introduce some of the issues (self and time management and organization of both, being the biggest ones). I had been encouraged by the responses from two teachers I had individually emailed the week before, so I thought I'd better email them all, even though I hope they've all read her IEP as it demands certain accommodations that every class had better make.

I get done doing this, and then my husband flips over a recently-graded Enlish assignment and on the back, written twice, harshly, is, "I HATE ENGLISH CLASS".

My heart is breaking and I feel like how can I expect her to stay on top of so many things when I'm having trouble staying on top of trying to keep her organized and on track with everything?

How can I expect her to be up on all this when new things and all sorts of changes are difficult for an autistic child to handle, when she's likely overwhelmed by all these new things that I feel like a "Bad Mommy tm" for doing what I need to do to help her, but feel like I'm just piling on her more?

And yet I feel like a "Bad Mommy tm" for the days when I've not reminded her about EVERYTHING, when I've not gone through her accordian organizer and her planner to check if she's written down homework and tests, and then see if she's brought the homework home . . ..

Can I pull my hair out yet? Please?!! Somebody say Junior High and a special needs child will get easier, at some point, pretttyyyy pleassseeee!!