Dark thoughts right now. Not worth committing to a blog.

Dar has been screaming, screaming, screaming. In the abstract, you might think I could compartmentalize that. In the non-abstract, his behavior considerably worsens the behavior of the rest of the family, prevents us from working or fulfilling any other creative potential.

Dark, bitter thoughts about how different our life would be with any 99% of other 11-year-olds.

Dar is flopping hard. This means he throws himself on his back out of frustration. His back is so hurt from this that his pain is somewhat self-reinforcing. His back hurts, so he screams at that, and then he flops or self-injures more out of that frustration.

All this with no way to tell us what’s bothering him. How nice would it be if we could just give him something that he wants? But he can’t or won’t tell us. On his iPad talker he keeps telling me “I want backyard,” I give him the backyard, I give him the front yard, and he acts as though he didn’t want them. I give him every treat in the house, I make no demands for hours. He continues his epic caterwauling.

At the end of Being John Malkovich (spoiler; you’ve had 20 years to see it), John Cusack is trapped forever in a young kid’s body, never able to communicate, condemned to observe forever. Sometimes I wonder if that comes anywhere near describing Dar.

Dark thoughts. Not worth blogging about.