To go or not to go…8/15/18

That is always the question around here.  Most times the answer is not to go..

Imagine yourself about to make dinner only to find you ran out of milk. No problems grab the kids, grab the keys, quick trip to the grocery store. Grab your milk and back at the house to fix your dinner. End of story, end of day, all is well.

Now imagine our life. Out of milk..oh shit. Walk up stairs, tell Zeq hey let’s go we have to run to the store. Why?.. I’m doing something, I don’t want to go. Do i have to go? Why do we have to go? Finally 20 minutes we are down the stairs. Lord please let his shoes feel ok, his shirt fit right. Ok mom got my phone ready to go. Whew.. walking out the door. Most peoples first thought.. did I grab my keys and wallet? Our first thought please God don’t let it be raining, or be hot.

Good get into the car..mind you 40 minutes later. One of three things will happen… 1. Make it to store grab this milk unscathed or 2. Sweat beads hit his forehead and rage ensues(he hates clothes, and hates to sweat) or 3. Another personality joins our car ride and the follow story happens.

In the car buckled up ready to go.. car gets on to the road.. rage begins, meltdown of epic proportions. I want to go home. Let me out this car(while pulling the handle) I’m sweating, pulling fistfuls of hair, get it off of me. No we don’t turn around. Again let me out I need out. Starts beating his fists against the window. I get his hands. (The voice who is speaking is not my normal 13 year old.) I think all is safe.. I let go. Mind you I’m in the passenger seat. So I let go. Then the rest ensues beating his head against the window, in which something happens his mouth starts bleeding. Get it off of me, in turn both hands go into his mouth and he is ripping apart his mouth because of blood. I finally restrain his hands, but this doesn’t stop his mouth.  Spitting blood everywhere, why do you hate me, you dont care if I die, this seat belt is choking me, I suffocating, you don’t care, Zeq is stupid he says. Restraint last until his body releases, I feel him melt. I then know it is safe to release his hands. Sweat pouring from both of us, exhausted to say the least. He wipes his nose, looks at it and then me. I hear the voice of my 13 year old ask why is his nose dripping.  Also hear hey mom you want to play idle miner with me, you think we could get ice cream? Hey mom you wanna look at toys. All the while not knowing the tornado that just passed through our car.

What feels like a lifetime later, pull into the store and I think please lord just let it not be busy, let no one try and talk to him let us get this milk and make it home in one piece.

So get milk, back in car, make it home thank you thank you thank you. 4 hours later can start this dinner.

That’s the difficulty of our everyday life. That’s the difficulty Zeq has. Whether sweat and clothes become that uncontrollable that it paralyzes you. Or whether you have another personality join you for the ride and either reek havoc as this one did or as others who have joined us such as a toddler repeats every word 500 times the whole way there and back.

Things come and go so quickly in Zeqs head and body that one second it is ok, and the next is world war 3.

So simple task of running to the store, requires planning and a lot of patience.

I know what your thinking just don’t go?!?! That’s not always an option, we live as normal of a life as we can. Things have to be done, we have to go places, and life does not stop. We deal with it as gracefully as possible.

So next time you run real quick to the store imagine life if you couldn’t. Imagine our adventure, or the other’s lives out there that is not so simple for.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s