I have a love/hate relationship with Rob Gronkowski. His ego is the size of a stadium but did you see him grinding his hips on the float in the Super Bowl parade 2 years ago? Shit.
I’m just going to wrap a box with a letter in it addressed to my family. No presents, can’t afford them. I have, however, spent thousands over the years on therapy because of some of you and your actions.
Merry Christmas. Merry Christmas. Kiss his ass. Kiss my ass. Happy Haunaka.
He knows why you have to run to the bathroom after sneezing.
Listen to the song and tell me it’s not rapey sounding. Why is this song still covered?
I’d like to report that things are getting better. I’ve acknowledged the depression. I’m going to see a therapist Monday.
The job. I’m interviewing elsewhere. I took a pay cut moving here. I also demoted myself a little also. I think I’d feel better about myself if I made up for that.
The boys. I’m asking for help. I’m trying to have more patience. We were watching Forrest Gump the other day and I noticed the Forrest Gump’s IQ was higher than Jackson. It was a little hard to swallow. But I’m appreciating him for who he is.
Jake’s telling me he has no friends at school. He got in trouble on the nuts the other day for pushing a boy. Apparently the boy pushed him first and was taking things away from him. He’s blaming things on his “stupid brain”. A phrase he has heard from someone somewhere. This breaks my heart to hear.
My personal life. Seeing someone. Or he’s putting up with me. I’m not sure how these things work as adults. We both have baggage. I guess it’s all about acceptance and compromise and not just about feelings anymore. Or I’m completely wrong and need to run. Time will tell.
Maybe the therapist can help me there too. And I’m going to ask about therapy for the boys. It may be time they start going anyway.
That place where you’re buzzed and you know you should stop drinking but you’re finally buzzed and you want to maintain this. But knowing you don’t maintain. You just get drunker. You either go to sleep peacefully and habe a great day or go for the quick high and drink more and sleep badly and wake up hungover.
I read it earlier at the first IEP meeting but shrugged it off. I figured a new state, it’s how developmentally delayed transfers here. No, it was his diagnosis from the school’s psychologist after another IQ test. It was lower than his results 2 years ago.
I was reminded on the conversation with Jackson’s first pediatrician. I was in Louisville. My mother had been hospitalized because of a mild heart attack. I just parked my car. My cousin’s wife watched Jackson. I’m atop the parking garage when my phone rings.
Goldenhar Syndrome. But he should be normal, mentally.
Should be. Facial and cranial abnormalities. Spinal issues. The diagnosis didn’t explain the holes in his heart. We were being referred to a geneticist. It was not a syndrome the doctor knew anything about.
All I thought of was the teasing I had done to my peers for their mental capacity, their size, their clothes, their hygiene. I teased children badly.
I thought…I really thought that I had control of his future and mine. I could stop him from ever being teased. I could never witness it. Never see him hurt. He could never hurt. I could veer off I-65 on the way home. No one would know suspect it was intentional. I’d put us both out of our misery.
But I cried. I called his father. We cried. Eventually he had to get back to work. I had to go see my mom.
I thought about it again when driving home that day but knew I wouldn’t dare act on it. I was ashamed for thinking it. I still beat myself up for it. But I know I’m not alone. I share with you something I’ve only told one other person. I don’t care if you judge me. You haven’t been through what I’ve been through. Am I glad I didn’t act on it? I still see him hurt and suffer at times. I still do too. But I’m glad we’re here to get through this together. He’s perfect.