Last minute add on: I write my posts the day before I publish them. I just told Tabitha over dinner about my post for today and she said “mom, that sounds more like a dream for you, you will never get off that easy!”
I know this sounds rather morbid but it is something I think of often while driving around town with Tiara. I envision myself driving when I am suddenly struck in the head with a flying object, my head hits the steering wheel, my car careens off the road and it crashes into a telephone pole killing us both. Why would I have this crazy thought? Well, because it is a common occurrence for Tiara to throw things at me while I am driving. She has a history of extreme violence towards me. The violence was gone for a while after her brain surgery last year, but it has been increasing again and my old fears and thoughts have resurfaced. Today while driving home from our walk she took off her UGG boot and threw it at my head. Then she pulled my hair, jerking my head towards the passenger seat. She probably pulls my hair 20 times a day, so I am pretty used to the pain, but some days I start to feel disheartened and sad. Today is one of those days. Lou loves my long blond hair, but he used to beg me to cut it off because he just couldn’t stand her constantly pulling at my hair. It was so hard for him to hear how much she would hurt me during the day while he was at work. I try to keep my hair pulled back, but she always finds a way to grab it. I could cut it off, but then what? She would probably just start pinching me more. I hate when she pinches me under my arm more than anything, I just go crazy. I think someone gave her a secret class on pinching techniques. You are probably wondering why I haven’t figured out how to control her. Well, I have tried through the years; neuropsychologists, behaviorists, behavior meds, modification programs and nothing seems to work. Put a kid on 4 different mind altering seizure drugs, add hormones, autism, developmental delay and multiple daily seizures to the mix and you have an explosion. Prior to the hormones and the growth spurt, she was more manageable because I could physically control her, but now she is 5’1 and weighs 15 pounds less than me. The last doctor who saw her in action, suggested I start lifting weights. Really, that’s your answer? Well enough feeling sorry for myself… Tomorrow is another day, just hoping it is better.