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palaytiasdreams 
Honesty is something that is supposed to set us free right? I often wonder where honesty and martyrdom collide. If I'm honest about my feelings regarding Adrian, then I'm mean, cold and callous. If I'm honest about how I feel, I'm asking for pity, which then resigns me to the old pat on the head "Oh you poor thing you."
I ask only to be heard, no more, no less. A place or person or time to just vent out what ails me without fear. But alas, which emotions are speaking? "It's just the BP." one says. "She's had too much sugar and no meds, don't worry about it." "She doesn't really think that way, it's just the meds."
I used to joke when my mom was in a bizarre mood that she hadn't taken her meds. My sister would correct me and say that wasn't funny. Now, when I'm upset about something and that very line is used on me, I too get a bit disgruntled.
It's as if my emotions no longer count, especially when angery or hurt. "She'll get over it, she always does." Yes, as if my BP contradicts all my emotions and leaves me with no feelings of my own. Granted, when on my Topamax, I show no emotion, I feel no emotion, but I Have emotion.
That doesn't make sense to me, but I know when I'm genuinely sad or disappointed.
My struggle now is this paranoia I have regarding Adrian. Is he playing games with his counselor? Is he honest in his therapy? Oh I HATE this! I don't trust him. He's too accomodating, too nice, to charming. That's it! At fourteen he's just so gosh darn everybody's friend. Everyone LOVES him! Old people, young people, mom's dad's and kids.
It's that charm that scares me. That accomodating factor that makes me think he'll offend again. That once he's out of therapy, he'll wait, be a good role model, then find a young child and...well we won't go there.
Once he gets caught (if he does) I can hear the "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to!" whining. Ugh, Makes me wonder if we should have just put him in jail to begin with. Oh but noooo that wouldn't have been because there were no actual victims. Naw, just a three year old boy who confessed everything to me. But he doesn't count because, well, what does a three year old know and the county doesn't believe Adrian did anything. Even AFTER his brother and sisters confessed that THEY have been his victim. UGH!!
I know I know, I can only control how I handle the stress, well mayhap writing this down finally will help. Outside I'm okay unless I'm in a funk. When all the matters of what to do with Adrian due to the financing for his therapy will run out, I was thrown onto a roller coaster.
I was short with the children, short with husband and all around just wanted to not do anything. But I did, I made the phone calls, I started praying harder than ever, reading scriptures, paying more attention to life.
I know, beyond a shadow of a doubt that all this will do me good. IF I learn and gain knowledge from it. Apply that knowledge and I have wisdom.
Why then do I still not say regular prayers and read regularly? I know it helps and I must make a promise to myself to at least start with one of those. I keep a prayer in my heart night and day, elsewise I couldn't get by. So, that leaves reading.
I never ever think of harming myself. I couldn't bare the thought of leaving my family behind and what that would do to them. Other thoughts have crossed my mind and my good therapist pointed out it was meds or the hospital. I know those are not my thoughts. I know I would never harm anyone...ever. Still, just the same I do not like having them.
BP is something that I know Satan can use against me to get me to feel sorry for myself or become lazy. I must learn and allow myself to rise above that. Dang but it's hard.
And here I babble whilst everyone is downstairs eating. I must go. Whether or not I feel better I dont know. Perhaps all the bablbing will do me good. Take it out of my head and put it somwhere where it's not taking up room, as I tell Z.
until later.
