12/20/14 – Meltdown In Ocean Beach

As I right this I still can’t breathe without pain. Deep breathes are worse. It’s not a stinging pain, just the sensation of tightness. The knowledge that it took a beating and will need some time to heal. The left shin is slightly swollen and the toes on my right foot that were broken two years ago ache. The right side of my back slowly throbs with a slow dull heat from being stressed and stretched in a manner that it’s not used to. Surprisingly the right hip is hurting too, but I can’t pin down what would have happened to give rise to it. Needless to say the headache will be here for a while.

At least my son seems to be in good spirits. The only trace of the almost 30 minute meltdown in Ocean Beach is a small bruise on his back from hitting the curb when his footing slipped. That sharp pain took him out of the neural chemical rage storm he was stuck in, and turned him into a crying little child that after two minutes of sobbing didn’t have the energy to pick himself up off the curb so he layed slumped in my arms until he could regain his strength to walk back to Pizza Port.

I find it easier to restrain him on a curb. The extra couple of inches gives me a little better leverage to hold him for a longer period of time, and when you can get between two cars people have a hard time seeing you. That affords us a little anonymity, and personally keeps my fear of being detained by the police at bay.

Sadly, that’s what most of my time is spent thinking about when I’m in my CPI restraining position. That and protecting my chin from the headbutts. If someone were to call the police Hunter could really fuck me over and temporarily take the kids away. Not that I think she would do that anymore. I am sure she has come to enjoy the reprieve from those duties. Either to dance with strange men, Kendall Jackson, or just plain old Bravo, it is nice to be free of these things. I just wish I had her mentality sometimes to just jump in bed with someone so you don’t feel alone.

I know that isn’t healthy, and in the end you feel lonelier for trying to quench the thirst for intimacy with the drink of carnality. That’s a need that should be filled first by God and second by a committed partner. There can be no intimacy without trust, and there is no trust without commitment. Of course, on the drive home as I am trying to catch my breathe (at one point he caught me mid-breathe with a center chest headbutt and left me gasping for air), all I can think is that there is no woman in the world who would be willing to love me and my children. My dream of having a “partner in crime” the rest of my life is slowly becoming only that – a dream.

I have to give myself credit though for not even raising my voice or saying a mean word to him. I’ve come a very long way from a couple of years ago.

I have to give people credit for helping me out. A younger couple had tried to slow him down and a nice old woman came out and offered me a blanket since it was cold out. I’m sure Hunter doesn’t get those offers, but she also hasn’t learned to keep all this in perspective. I’m the one who will actually talk with people as I am trying to get him under control. I think people appreciate it when they fear a child is being harmed and they see a humble man dealing with something unimaginable in their lives.

When he’s twelve there will be no restraining. It will just be an APB or BOLO until they locate him. He’s already getting too strong for me over longer periods of time. Of course, it doesn’t help that he knows exactly where some of the weak points are. Left shin (fractured this summer with tendon and ligament damage), right toes (two previously broken), and headbutting my chest.

Funny, tonight was the first time in a while he wanted me to tuck him into bed and say prayers. Of course, he asks me if he can play minecraft next week. He’d worried tonight’s outburst will make me withhold it. I tell him he can play it again tomorrow but we are going to hold to our 20 minute rule.

All of the sound and activity in the restaurant and the birthday was just too much for him. After hanging with him for over an hour and a half I took a couple of minutes to play with my daughter and one of her cousins and he lost it. He needed to go to the bathroom and didn’t know where they were and I couldn’t hear him when me asked since I wasn’t sitting next to him. Sometimes there is no mercy for me. I always knew I lived an unusual life, but my son’s issues take a lot out of me.

Combine that with a mom who isn’t even interested in trying anymore and I’m tired. I tried again to engage her in finding ways to get more one on one time and it’s her usual – I have no ideas there is only so many ways to split up the weekend. We haven’t tried everything, but that would deny her some alone time. I can’t really blame her for that.

I texted her about what happened and asking for Sunday night with my daughter so I can take her to see some Christmas lights, but Hunter hasn’t responded. I’m sure she is out watching the charger game. If my son was NT the three of us would have been able to do the same with my nephews dad and his friends. People that might be someone to be friends with, but it’s hard to be friends with someone who spends time with my son. It’s not easy. Instead I live in this prison cell between my aspie and my borderline. I wish I knew of a way out.

To make matters worse again, I got the invite for my daughter for a bday party on my last Sunday of my winter break week. I send Hunter an email asking if she got it and no response. However, she goes onto our shared calendar and changes her pickup time from 5 pm on Sunday to 5 pm Saturday. Just so she can go to the party. WTF – I changed it back. Why must we always play these games?

Leave a Reply

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s