it is serious

I should be asleep right now. I need to be asleep. Really, what I mean is that I need rest. My body, soul, and mind are exhausted. I've done more crying than I care to admit...or can remember. A word, a look...it doesn't take much. I have never felt stress or sadness as I do now. Of course, I have not had to deal with Richie's health issues before. No, not like this.

I can't seem to separate myself from what is happening. I can't allow myself to think the thoughts that have been dancing through my head. I spoke to a woman who had an experience similar to what I'm going through now, and the things she said to me were scary because it's how I feel. She is talking about it now, having survived for almost 18 years. I try to find strength in those types of stories. It's odd the places I seem to be finding strength. I relish, even more, in helping others. Unfortunately, I fear it's a selfish act aimed at distracting myself.

I have sat down to write so many times. I know that I will feel some comfort, some release, if I can just write. My tears fall so hard. I rub the dried salty water circles they leave on my desk and I can feel the pain pushing against my eyelids. I never imagined such an absolute. Richie is so young. He can't understand what's happening to him...maybe that makes it worse. Maybe that makes it easier. If it were my diagnosis instead of his, I would not hurt as much as knowing that my son will always suffer.

I've been told to examine the positives...it's better this than that. I am thankful for those that do not know this pain. I am also frustrated with the responses of those that can't understand. Or don't want to. I have heaved myself out of the denial that I was so comfortable wading in. I can't force anyone else out of theirs. Honestly, I really do believe that everyone will be affected by this differently and will cope in their own ways. I don't have the energy to judge or care how others choose to live. For those of us that have gathered to support Richie, as well as each other, well...that's where my focus lies.

The simple and ambiguous questions popular with tragic events are rising in my throat. I'm ready to scream. I want answers that aren't available. They don't exist. I want to step outside of this nightmare and breathe - if only for a moment. There is a long road before Richie. I hope against all hope that I can adequately prepare him for the life he will be forced to lead.

I think about the kubler-ross model and I can't help but wonder...is there a way I am supposed to feel? If I lack one emotion or feel another in excess, does that offer insight? I can't help but let Richie be my only concern. I would have to make a very sincere effort to tear my senses from being completely wrapped up in him. Even then I doubt I could feel half of what others guess I should be. I can't get angry. That seems to surprise many. Was the diagnosis missed? Is there a person to blame onto, and if so, who? That is form of negativity I just won't give in to. It's not even that I can't feel anger, but I don't think it's fair. Of course, this is all pretty new so maybe I'll get to the machete wielding, vengeance seeking, vindictively reckless stage soon enough.