Are we done yet? Nope ...

... sorry to say, there is still oh so much more to tell you.  However, it might give you some hope that we have reached the grand climax of our story!  I take you to an evening in late January ...

... no ... wait.  This story actually begins right before Christmas ...

... well ... actually ...

... oh crud.

Sigh.

Ok.  So, last January (2013), I drowned our macbook.  I was using a little table for a desk, placed my cup of water on the table, and sat down to work.  I slid the table closer to me, not realizing that Hubby's shoes were underneath.  The table bounced, the water spilled, the macbook drowned.  We replaced it with our tax refund, but much mocking has ensued.

In December, I was in the midst of editing some photos.  (Did y'all know that Hubby and I have a small photography company?  No?  Oh.  Well here, check us out: www.carrmip.com)  My dad and I were having a very heated discussion about whether or not Red should be allowed to have computer privileges (that he has so horribly abused), when a cup of tea got knocked over into the macbook2.  Hubby was not amused.

So, until we can replace macbook2, we've been sharing Red's laptop with him.  And then, he decided it would be a swell idea to uninstall Windows and replace it with Linux.  And, of course, nothing was working correctly.  Now we're caught up.

That afternoon in January, I had asked Red to please make the repairs we had discussed so that I could get some work done.  I'm OH SO VERY BEHIND on OH SO MANY projects.  (All those caps?  Yeah, that is how I hear it in my head, too.  Sigh.)  He blew me off - per his norm.  So, later that evening, I tried to talk to him about it.  He argued with me.  I - VERY CALMLY - tried to get him to understand that his disobedience was uncalled for, and I don't appreciate his rude responses, or the fact that I'd been waiting for two days to get stuff done. 

Red responded by calling me an extremely crude and profane name.  I reacted badly.  I reached out and smacked the back of his head.  Yeah, I know, it was stupid.  Please know, I didn't knock him senseless or cause damage (not that I'm excused) ... Dad likened it to the way they smack that one guy on NCIS.  He got up in my face and yelling, and I got him to sit back down and calm down.  I told him that I shouldn't have smacked him, but I honestly I can't handle any more of the name calling.  The things he says are truly not ok.  We began talking again, trying to find some peace or resolution.  I asked Red about schoolwork, and he got super mad again.  Told me to f-off and he was never going to do his schoolwork.  I sighed, reached over and closed the laptop, picked it up, and turned to walk away. 

And that is when he exploded. 

Red reached out and grabbed my arms to pull me back, he was screaming but I don't know what he was saying.  I wrenched free from his grasp, and started running towards the front door.  He was right on my heels the entire time, hitting me in the back and my head.  Dad started following Red, trying to get him to stop.  When I reached the door, Red grabbed me by my hair and slammed my head into the closed door.  Dad was able to get him off of me, I was able to get out the door to Hubby who could help me. 

We called the police, and an ambulance.  Red called an ambulance for my father - Red accidentally struck him while hitting me and Dad (who has chronic heart conditions) started having chest pain.  We were both transported, and Red was arrested for battery.  I had a lot of soft tissue damage, some serious bruising on my back and shoulder, a cut on my arm from his fingernails, and a fairly nasty concussion.  And, to be honest, I'm leaving huge chunks out of the story - like Red screaming profanity at Hubby, and the paramedics getting in Red's face because he was threatening me - but none of us have time to go through every detail.  It should suffice to say that it was traumatic for us all.

Since then, we've been on a stupid roller coaster of court hearings and frustrating obstacles.  There are two cases - criminal and DCF.  With the last criminal case, he went through the diversion program.  It is supposed to be a one-shot break, but it gets used a lot.  I've spoken to the prosecutor and she doesn't think that diversion is going to be a good option this time.  While Red does have asperger's and there are some serious issues going on there, he *does* know right from wrong, and he makes the choice to get violent with me, and with that choice, he has to face consequences.  Red is EXTREMELY narcissistic and doesn't feel that anyone has the power to do anything to him at all.  If he continues with that frame of mind, he will feel that he never has to abide by rules or laws ever, and that will not end well.  Wednesday afternoon, we have a pre-trial conference, I shall update you as soon as I can.

The DCF case has been a perpetual thorn in my side.  You may or may not recall from my previous writing that I've tried for DCF to help me with Red for the last two years, to no avail.  In the investigation following his arrest, Red told the DCF person that I punched him several times in the stomach and that is why he attacked me.  They filed to "shelter him", which means to legally take guardianship over him, until they can fix me, or take my rights away.  (joy. abounding joy.  you can totes here my sarcasm, yeah??) After having many unsavory conversations with case workers, investigators, supervisors, and attorneys, I think we might - MIGHT - just be starting to make some headway.  I was quite doubtful of this until a conversation I had today with Red's caseworker.

Up until now, I've been a gargantuan pain in DCF's butt.  (I know, so many of you are completely shocked by that.  harhar)  I've pushed, I've begged, I've nagged, I've argued, I've pleaded, I've even yelled (more shock), but none of it ever mattered, because they never came through with providing me very much needed assistance in Red's care.  None of them seem to understand the scope and depth of what Asperger's really is, let alone what it is like to deal with it and puberty, or being the parent of a kid dealing with that and puberty.  But today?  Today, Red's caseworker actually LISTENED TO ME.  Record-breaking day, y'all.  And she thought about what I was saying, and she realized that as angry as I am about being a punching bag, at the end of the day, Red is MY BABY.  He is.  He always will be.  And my baby is in pain, and needs help.  He isn't going to get help from me because he doesn't want it - but that does not mean that I'm not going to spend every ounce of energy I have fighting for him anyway. 

For the first time in about 4 years, I have hope and optimism.  It is surreal. 

We have a case conference on Friday morning, and I'm hoping that she takes that time to explain that I'm fighting FOR my son, and that is all I've been doing this entire time.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ok, enough for now.  At least, you're actually kind of up-to-date.  The next few days are going to be busy here.  We're taking Fluffy for another surgery consult on her eyes Wednesday morning (before Red's hearing.  oy) ... so, keep the prayers coming. 

Much love and fluff...

... and the story continues ...

First of all, I just want to thank you for all the continued love and support you all are showing our family.  It never ceases to amaze me just how many awesome people God has chosen to surround us with.  Honestly, we had chosen for so long to not tell very many people about everything going on, because we just felt so uncomfortable.  Shame that we couldn't "control" our son.  Our pride was hurt that we couldn't help him.  And we were so afraid of people telling us how awful we were, or how badly we were failing.  So very afraid of people getting the wrong idea.

But then, after this last episode, I hit my limit.  I couldn't keep on hiding what was really going on.  The brave face thing?  Yeah, that sucks.  I decided that I was no longer going to hide the insanity.  I couldn't - it was lying.  My friends - even the random people on facebook I have never met in person - deserve the truth.  And maybe, just maybe, if I'm open with what has been going on here, maybe some tired mom at the end of her rope will read this and know she's not alone.  Because, even with some close friends supporting me, and even with my supportive husband - I have felt just that.  Completely alone.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In 2012, Red full-on attacked me.  It was late one afternoon, and I was asking him to talk about some of his feelings.  He'd been extremely rude to his younger brother and sister earlier in the day.  He lost it on me, and started punching me.  I couldn't take anymore, and in a panic, I called the police, and Red was arrested.  Somewhere in the process, I had hoped that we would be given the help we were so obviously needing with him, and what we ended up with was a very long path of doors being slammed in our face, and Red's more annoying nuances morphing out of control.  He has a superiority complex and narcissism that leads him to believe that he can never be punished for anything - and sadly, it is kind of what happened.  The judge sent Red through a diversion program, and that led to many case workers.  We were able to get some short-term counselling, but not a whole lot past that.  The diversion program is one of those things that is great in theory, but weak in reality. I sincerely hope that the program is able to help some children out there, but it did nothing for my own.

The next big incident was last summer. Red just kept getting in my face, being rude. I kept asking him to just leave me alone - that day at work had been rough, I had been to the store (one of my least favorite chores), I was in a horrible mood. No matter how many times I told him to back out of my face and leave me be, he just kept at it. After about an hour, he called me a particularly foul name, and that was my last straw. I reached out to slap his face (I never said I was perfect or faultless in this mess), and he ducked, I barely grazed him. Before I knew it, he was attacking me. He punched me several times on the chest and shoulders, and in the face. He busted my eye and mouth pretty bad, broke my glasses. We called 911 again. 

When the police arrived, I told them what had happened. Hubby had been downstairs, so didn't see the attack. I told the police officers right off the bat that I had struck first, and one of them looked me straight in the eye and told me corporal punishment was legal in the state of Florida. That doesn't make it right, of course, but I felt somewhat validated. It certainly doesn't sound right now, but I guess that in my imperfect human-ness, I have my threshold of how much I could take. In hindsight, I know he was doing it on purpose. We've seen other instances in which he has intentionally manipulated and pushed to start a fight.

I went inside my house to treat my wounds, and try to calm down while the police talked to Red. Before I knew it, the officers were I'm my living room, handcuffing me, arresting me for child abuse. Red had told them that I had beat him fairly badly. He convinced them that I had injured him, and it was not the first time.  He had no injuries - not a single mark on him - and they believed him. I was in hell.  I spent the next couple of days in jail.  I spent that time in absolute shock. And let me be very clear: it was not jail that bothered me. While certainly no trip to Disney, it actually wasn't that bad. I was just in complete disbelief that this was the level of crisis my family had gotten to. 

Just a couple of weeks later, all charges against me were dropped. My attorney said that when the judge read through all the statements, he saw all of the discrepancies and knew Red had lied, and apparently admonished the arresting officer. The fallout is frustrating, though. Red still thinks he got away with fooling the system, and that he now has even more power over me - he could always just have me arrested again. I had to stop working with the children at church. The pastors know the depth of struggle we have dealt with, but others didn't, and it was making some uncomfortable. If you Google me, you'll see my mug shot, and the charges. I'll forever have to deal with that stigma of shame, and worry what it affects. It drive a huge wedge between my father and I.  It took a long time to repair the damage done there.  DCF was back in our lives after that, and I begged for them to find treatment for Red.  They didn't seem to think he was "bad enough" to do anything about. 

Are you freaking kidding me? 

A couple of weeks after that, I was sitting in my father's living room speaking with Red about making some goals for getting his schoolwork done. I stood up to leave, and I said something about if he doesn't start doing his work, he'll never get caught up.  He stood up and grabbed my arm, twisted it behind my back and drove me to my knees.  He must have hit me somewhere about 25 times in the head and shoulder.  My dad kept screaming him to get off me and finally he snapped out of it, and ran into the other room. 

When my husband came home, he was worried about my shoulder more because I could barely move it.  I went to the emergency room, and they did x-rays, but didn't really look at my head.  They wanted to call the police, but because we had a DCF agent already from the arrest a couple of weeks ago, I figured I would just let them know.  The next day, I called the DCF case worker, and she was very dismissive to me, didn't seem to care.  I was very ill all day long, and that afternoon, I sent a text message to a friend of mine that had known I had gotten hurt.  She called me immediately and asked if I'd been drinking.  When I told her no, she said I had a concussion and needed to go back to the hospital immediately.  Hubby got home not too long after that and took me.  They kept me overnight to observe me.  I was in pretty bad shape.  

Because I didn't report that attack to the police, and because DCF seemed so ambivalent, Red never received any repercussions for that attack.  He constantly has it in his head that no one can ever touch him, or that he is absolutely above all reproach from anyone.  DCF stands for Department of Children and Families - but they're not helping our family at all.  They're not even helping Red, and he's the child in question.  

Not long after that, DCF closed their case, and we were on our own.  Red and I fell into a rhythm where we practically ignored each other.  He has refused to do anything at all, no chores or schoolwork, he hasn't wanted to spend anytime with us.  There is no family time.  He even ignored us on his birthday, and we had planned on taking him out.  He threw such a temper tantrum on Christmas, that we didn't even spend that holiday together.  

Enough for now.  There's only so much I can handle writing at one time, and I'm sure its hard for some of you to read all of this.  Thank you, though, for reading, for praying, for encouraging, and for loving.

The Background

I've been giving little tidbits on fb about the events of this past week, and my friends have been awesome. But, it is time I tell the whole story.

For those of you that don't know, Red has Asperger's syndrome.  The last few years have been quite the battle dealing with his many behavioral issues, and the carry-on baggage that comes with aspie: ADHD, sensory processing disorder, oppositional defiance disorder, and borderline obsessive tendencies. And puberty. Good Lord above, please let us not forget puberty. It is the gasoline that turned our small bonfire into a raging inferno.

The first time we considered that Red might be autistic, he was only 10 months old.  He had already been exhibiting some attributes that I had never before seen in babies. Granted, Red was my first child. But my older sister had four children, and I had been around (and even lived with them) when her kids were tiny. Red was just different.  His pediatrician told me to be extra patient, and be on the watch for anything truly disruptive.  And that's what I did for several years.

While Red was a bit more high-maintenance than his little sister, we didn't have any major issues with him until first grade. School became such a challenge for him.  And sadly, his school wasn't much help. No matter what I tried to do to help, they were unsupportive and resistant. Additionally, he was getting bullied, and there just seemed to be no end to the madness.  After a very long and hurtful year, we decided to homeschool - something I thought I would NEVER do.  Things calmed down after that, and even though Red was still a handful, life continued somewhat smoothly until he was about 11.

The pre-teen years hit Red hard, and suddenly, my fun and curious little boy became obstinate and moody.  All.  The.  Time.  It was exhausting.  It caused problems with his baby sister and brother.  It  was horrible.  And he became fearful and paranoid.  If I tried to hug him, he'd scootch away.  If he  was disobeying, and I needed to grab his arm to get his attention, he would scream as if I'd burned him.  When I asked his pediatrician about it, he said it was nothing serious, just be patient. So, we carried on, but things only got worse.  He began cursing at us, screaming at us, shoving his younger siblings.  He would lie about everything!  Not just denying his disobedience like all kids, but lying about things that have no bearing or meaning at all, like what was said on a tv commercial.  We started to look for a therapist that we could work with, but we just weren't fast enough.  Suddenly, he became very violent. If he had done something mildly disobedient - like, not taking out the trash when I asked - and I were to question him, he would start lashing out.  We had to start restraining him to keep him from injuring us or himself.  And by restraining, I don't mean we locked him in a cage, don't get weird on me. I mean, we would forcibly bear hug him until he calmed down.  If you ask him now what we were doing back then, he's said that we were hurting him, strangling him, trying to kill him.  He has no understanding of how violent he was.

Things were spiraling out of control.  When Red was 11, we got into an argument about him not completing some homework assignments.  He ran out the front door of our apartment and started running to my dad's, who lived just down the hall.  I ran after him and grabbed his arm. He swung around, and punched me square in the mouth.  He got away, ran to my dad's.  When I got there, he was screaming incoherently.  When I tried to tell him to calm down, he pulled a butcher knife out of the block and told me he was going to stab me to death, and then kill himself.  I couldn't take any more.  We called the authorities and had him taken to a hospital where they would hopefully help him.  Unfortunately, that isn't what happened.  They released him the next day with no plan, no suggestions, nothing.

I sought help for Red on our own, and found a psychiatrist.  After a very long session, she diagnosed him with all of the conditions I listed earlier.  I felt relieved having something concrete.  I know a lot of people think we shouldn't label kids, but for me, that label meant getting him the right help he needed.  Unfortunately, that was a dead-end, as well.  The psychiatrist wanted us to start working with one of her therapists to figure out exactly where Red stood.  But, our health insurance didn't cover her therapists, and she refused to work with anyone that our insurance would cover.  The last few years have been very much like this: we think we find something, but we can't utilize that service because of whatever reason.  Door after door after door has been slammed in our faces.  It has been frustrating and heart-breaking, and has ticked us off.

Since the knife incident, we've had a few more bouts of violence, each one getting worse than the last.  While there have been tons of times where Red has shoved by me or struck out at me, in the past few years, there have been six incidents in which he's gotten downright violent and caused damage.  And, I will be honest, I haven't reacted well to many of them.  In the heat of the moment, I've hit back, I've yelled, I've lost my temper.  Generally speaking, our family is in crisis, and we have needed help. But, again, doors have been slammed.

Ok, this story has already gotten pretty long. Now that I've gotten the background laid out, I will get more into the present time next post. In the meantime, I appreciate all the support we've received over Facebook.  We are incredibly blessed to have the friends and support we do.