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Feb. 23rd, 2008 08:57 amWell, THAT was an interesting night.
No glass alligators, but sometime during the night I managed to get my splint off without waking up. Found it on the floor this morning. I think it's likely that this happened during the screaming nightmares, which were not apparently inspired by Mabuse at all but involved the house I grew up in and, perhaps predicably, Bernard. That was quite a game of hide and seek.
He'll be married by this time next week. Mum and I don't talk about him. Growing up, it was always Mum and me against the world, and she talked to me about problems she was having and together we figured out how to raise Bernard, which was difficult in the days before AS existed as a diagnosis. For her, in some ways, it still doesn't. But we always talked about the problems she was having and now with Bernard I just can't. Or I choose not to. The line blurs.
She respects the boundary and she has therapy and the anti-depressants seem to be working, so I don't fret about her as such; she seems to be doing fine. She has Lucky, too, and they go out to the land a lot and plan the house they're going to build there and the orchard they're going to plant. I think she feels some relief that Bernard is someone else's issue now, and probably guilt about the relief, but I choose not to feel guilt, either. He's a grown man; he's made his choices, and I've made mine. I chose my family, despite their imperfections, and he chose to run away. So fuck him.
I'm sure mostly it's decompression from the week, adjustment to having my arm back again and the resulting pain, which is not insignificant. It's not a great headspace to start my Saturday in, but I'm not planning on doing much of anything today so it hardly matters.
Fic in a bit, probably. Yes, still stuck in a Torchwood phase. I'll break away soon, promise. :D
No glass alligators, but sometime during the night I managed to get my splint off without waking up. Found it on the floor this morning. I think it's likely that this happened during the screaming nightmares, which were not apparently inspired by Mabuse at all but involved the house I grew up in and, perhaps predicably, Bernard. That was quite a game of hide and seek.
He'll be married by this time next week. Mum and I don't talk about him. Growing up, it was always Mum and me against the world, and she talked to me about problems she was having and together we figured out how to raise Bernard, which was difficult in the days before AS existed as a diagnosis. For her, in some ways, it still doesn't. But we always talked about the problems she was having and now with Bernard I just can't. Or I choose not to. The line blurs.
She respects the boundary and she has therapy and the anti-depressants seem to be working, so I don't fret about her as such; she seems to be doing fine. She has Lucky, too, and they go out to the land a lot and plan the house they're going to build there and the orchard they're going to plant. I think she feels some relief that Bernard is someone else's issue now, and probably guilt about the relief, but I choose not to feel guilt, either. He's a grown man; he's made his choices, and I've made mine. I chose my family, despite their imperfections, and he chose to run away. So fuck him.
I'm sure mostly it's decompression from the week, adjustment to having my arm back again and the resulting pain, which is not insignificant. It's not a great headspace to start my Saturday in, but I'm not planning on doing much of anything today so it hardly matters.
Fic in a bit, probably. Yes, still stuck in a Torchwood phase. I'll break away soon, promise. :D
