A New Team

Today we start a new program to help my son. It is known as FSP (full service partnership). While my son has loved his therapist, he was really not making improvement and what appealed to me about this program is that they are available 24/7. So if we are in an altercation I can call somebody other than the police to help.
My son was diagnosed as being on the Autistic spectrum when he was about four years old. I always loved how quirky he was and really thought nothing of his little oddities. In my family, uniqueness was always valued and rewarded particularly by my mother. But when Michael's tantruming became scary, my sister who had been a special education major in college, suggested we might need to get a diagnosis. It was always his anger that caused concern. It is his anger now that is making him intolerable.
He is sixteen. His rage has given me black eyes, bruised ribs and more recently burns on my toes from his attempt to wake me with a hot glue gun.
He is profoundly depressed and I've given him good reason to be. I've made us homeless. I am a single mother. I managed to keep the mortgage paid and be a stay at home Mom for a decade. In 2010, I avoided a foreclosure and did a short sale. After a year in an apartment, I wasn't able to pay that either and we got evicted. We now live in one bedroom of my sister's place. Mike sleeps on the floor.
Coupled with watching me get my hopes up as project after project fails, it seems that everything I touch turns not to gold but shit. Mike has reasons for losing hope; but truth be known, he wasn't the happiest camper when times were good. His anger was always a problem.
Still, it feels very much like we've been cursed and it's hard to be positive. My son is very in tuned to me. I can't hide this feeling from him.

December 11, 2012

My son has been hospitalized since Thursday evening, Today is Tuesday. Are they helping him? No, not really. This is Medi-Cal. Basically one needs to get enough services to signal that one needs better services in order to get actual help. Help where the doctors have degrees from Western Nations and speak English. Mike has simply been warehoused. However this is part of the paper trail that will hopefully lead to real solutions. IF there are any.
Are some people just born with less drive for living? Is my son one of them?
I find myself in the horrible position of trying to convince my son that being alive is a good thing and he must not end it. He claims to want relief. I have a fear that if one ends one's life, one could wind up in this silent void. There is an episode of Sponge Bob Square pants where Squidward wants to be alone and ends up in a vacuum. That freaked me out. It freaked Mike out too. Still he thinks that could be relief.
Meanwhile a very spiritual friend of mine posted another spiritual blog of his today on Facebook. Today he posted something about silence. I know he is talking about quieting the mind but I suddenly wanted to cry "Bullshit!"
I'm trying to keep my son from that silence that he seeks and get him to hear the song of life. What good has anybody done contemplating their navel? All those Tibetan Monks on a mountain, what good are they doing? They've committed suicide. Suddenly the pompousness of New Age was overwhelming and every bit as silly sounding as religion.
My friend, Dan has been struggling to stay alive while my son wants to end it all. Danny has been very successful in fighting cancer. Dan's been playing guitar since we met in High School. I heard a cut from his new album and there is definitely more of the "infinite" quality to it. Facing the universe has served his art well.   It's not a bunch of crap. I'm just in a funky place.
The Autistic Buddha asks, "What is the sound of one hand Flapping?"
Pervert Buddha asks, "What is the sound of one hand fapping?"
Buddhakitteh asks what is the smell of five cats crapping?" This one, I know the answer to.