And this is the place
In the soul shaken darkness
Where I find my son
I went to my favorite writer’s conference last weekend. Killer Nashville was incredible, as always, and I came away with new insights, new friends, and a few things that I completely didn’t expect. I’m sure I’ll talk about those things at some point.
The day before that, I took Sam to one of the myriad of doctor’s appointments that dot his schedule and left so soul-shaken that I thought I wouldn’t be able to drive to Nashville. Again, I’m sure I’ll talk about it here at some point, but I’m not ready yet. I left that appointment at once validated and furious, certain that the evaluating team was both exactly right and exactly wrong about Sam, and that the things they had right are the ones that scare me. It’s time to face another of the hydra’s seven heads, one I’ve expected, but one I’m not ready for, not this soon.
More importantly, he’s not ready for it. No psychological therapy will be useful until we get the meds stabilized, and our efforts to implement such always end in utter travesty. I want to wait a few more months, weeks even, to see if the newest medication will put him on firm enough ground to start behavior therapy.
But I don’t think I have that kind of time any longer. The hydra wants for slaying now, so Scott and I will strap on our battle armor and get family therapy underway so we can learn some new tactics and buy Sam the time he needs.
I’ll let you know how that works out for us, but don’t hold your breath.
Jessie Powell is the Jester Queen. She likes to tell you about her dog, her kids, her fiction, and her blog, but not necessarily in that order.