In Short

I was not asked to hug myself at my last therapy session. I don't know whether she'd thought better of it, or whether she just looked at my face and heard the monotone in my voice and knew that she had bigger fish to fry, like trying to rouse in my an emotion--any emotion. (It didn't really work.) I'd say that maybe she'd just read your comments--you guys are brutal; funny, but brutal--except she's about as un-internet-savvy as anyone I've ever met.

I had a really nice Mother's Day.

I'm still worried about N, trying to set up evalutions for him, trying to figure out the next logical step, trying to decide what *I* think is wrong. I've done a whole bunch of things, but gotten nowhere, so there's no use in chronicling it all.

My job angst has hit an all-time high. I'm trying every which way to find a way out that doesn't actually involve burning bridges (or selling my house and living on the street with the kids), but I just can't seem to make it happen. My dream scenario involves a part-time job with benefits doing editing or somesuch thing that I can do in the evenings or on weekends, which I supplement by freelancing for my current place of employment as well as other venues. My dream scenario is probably never going to come true. That makes me want to cry. Because it's such a pretty, pretty dream. In reality, however, what's probably going to happen is that if and when I really start to get a handle on what's going on with N and what it is he needs, I'm going to have to take a couple of months' leave of absence from my job, and that's going to screw up my finances something nasty. But it may just have to be done anyway. Something's gotta give, and soon. And if it isn't my job, it may just be my sanity.

I am so tired. The kids are asleep in their beds, and there are two kitties snuggled up atop mine. I'm going to join them.