Sunday, February 01, 2015

The Stranger In My Living Room

I am struck, after some minutes with Thomas last night, that a part of me, somewhere, doesn't recognize him. I don't know if you ever do this where you look in a mirror and you don't recognize yourself. I sure do. It was like that. There I was standing with him, getting ready to go out for take out, and he was a bundle of energy, his eyes were wide and clear and for some reason his height, his 6 feet of height seemed like 10 feet. He was raring to go with us to get dinner and he wasn't going to take no for an answer. I'm not sure what this phenomenon is exactly. Is it all of the years of seeing him so flat and now he's not flat so I don't recognize him...or what? Quite honestly it was disconcerting with him towering over me with this look on his face. I had to take a step back and really look at him and gauge what to say and how to act. That kid I don't know what to do with. I don't know how to talk to him. I don't know how to act around him. Is it me? Is there something flawed in me that I don't recognize my own child? This is the child I wanted for all of these years since schizophrenia claimed him and now here he is and he's a stranger in my living room.

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