Thursday, January 11, 2007

Progress?

Not much. I just discovered that I haven't even completed all the paperwork. But I forge onward. I've begun telling everyone at work that I'l be out on "family leave" between middle February and middle May. So I have to get my act together and bring her to Seattle.

Here's how the holidays went. From what I can tell, Bevin is sabotaging herself in two different ways in Utah. With her group home: she can't settle, doesn't rest, doesn't sleep. She roams at night and they've begun giving her sleeping pills. I find it hard to recognize this set of problems. I think of Bevin as the young lady with an infinite capacity to sleep. What does this tell me? That she doesn't have quiet, solitude, a way to rest and veg. We all need that.

At her dad's: she's begun ignoring her bathroom skills. She wets, messes. Makes herself generally unpopular. As a result this past year, she was disinvited to the family summer vacation.

My goal for the holidays. Let her succeed. Have positive interactions. Lay down a good pattern, a good habit. I was concerned by what happened in Sacramento last vacation. She had accidents, she became disturbed, even hostile in the evenings. I was traumatized. Though I didn't tell Don what I was feeling, not sure I told anyone.

So this year, I made going to the toilet an ever-present, very light, fun game. We spent our time bathing, eating, driving, going to the bathroom, cuddling. The goal. Success, pleasantness. We did well. But it took effort.

And my husband, Don, was concerned. Is this our life? Does Bevin now rule our life.

And here's my bottom line:

I won't make choices that ignore Bevin.
I won't choose.
I will do quite a bit in the short run to lay down a pattern, habits, that I can live with.
I don't want to choose. . . .
But I just won't abandon her this time. I can't.

I don't want to lose mylife. I've come to value it too much. But I don't think I will need to choose.

I hope Don will let us succeed. I don't want to choose. But perhaps I will, if pressed.

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