Into the Wild

Sometimes we live with an evil monster. And through this new journey with my Dad, the evil monster sometimes comes out. I came home from my happy breezy 6 mile run today to find my Dad in a very grumpy state - Mom said he just got out of bed. I encouraged him to take a walk with the dog. And I'm sitting eating my pb&j in the kitchen watching Ina on Food Network, and I say to my Dad, "I'm ready when you are." and he says, looking up at the TV, "oh this lady can go fuck herself." yes. This is a classic non-directed accusation towards any person, place, or thing we frequently hear when the evil monster comes out. And with those words I knew it was lurking for an indefinite amount of time. We proceeded on a terrible attempt at a walk where Dad spit at me multiple times. And so I spit back. It's all a tumultous amount of unknown anger as a result of Mr. B.I. (Brain Injury.) so i don't take it personally. but i tell him how i feel so he knows i'm hurt and it's not okay - and usually this calms the beast for a while, though it's marinating inside him.

After Dad gets some food in him we attempt an afternoon of minor activities - visit a dog to potentially adopt, then pick up lunch and have a little picnic in the park. Dad's face lit up during the interaction with the dog, and Mr. B.I was gone completely. Lunch was well enjoyed and devoured, and then the attempt to get back in the car turned into Dad attempting to escape and walk home on his own. This was a first. and this was bad. He wanted to cross Victory Blvd, cars passing swiftly as they go about their own lazy Sunday, and me behind him trying to get him back towards the park. He yells at me, "quit buggin' me! you go back in the park! I'm walking home." I step back. I give him space. but i'm not about to let him lead Melvin into the stream of traffic. I yell back at him with concern in my voice, so he knows walking into the street is a threat and not okay. He gets back on the sidewalk and there starts the spitting again. He spits at me. I glare. He spits again. i yell, "Dad don't spit at me!!!!!!!" he then starts pressing his boundaries, casually spitting around me. I stop. and I pull the big gun out. "FUCK YOU." I say to my dad. My dad. I said fuck you. i didn't think i had it in me. but that got him. He walked ahead, I stayed behind and didn't make eye contact, arms crossed, head hung in defense. Mom who had been creeping around us in the car casually pulled to the corner to pick us up. Knowing he's done wrong and pretending everythings fine, he kisses mom and calmly gets in the car. I roll my eyes and shake it off.

It's no big deal. I'm sure this sounds incredibly frightening. But this was just a new tactic to deal with the behavior. he has to know that it's not okay to be hurtful to us. and he responds when we're honest, real, and on his level. we also have to know that it's not his fault - it's Mr. B.I's. but to speak truthfully - today was a new scary level of behavior. I'm a little afraid to go out in public now. and we had been getting so good at grocery trips, walks, and restaurants. and now i'm a little nervous.

I apologize for the surprise of drama that many (if any) of you who are reading this are feeling. Brain Injury is scary stuff. and no one knows but my Mom and I. I was hesitant to share this story because of what people may think -- but then I thought, this is exactly what this space is for. And if no one reads it now, at least i'll have typed it all down for my memoir one day. :)

We came home and watched Into the Wild. I hate that empty depressed feeling it left me with. My Dad was engaged though. After the movie he put on this stupid floppy old person hat and walked outside with Melvin. Moving at the speed of molasses, and dressed in bulky, smelly, grey sweats with that stupid hat as the cherry on top of his brain injured body sundae. Mom and I peered from the shutters in the dining room, wanting to give him his privacy and alone time. "jesus he looks like he's 85 years old." my mom says. And then he started to cross the street. She ran out to follow him, and I put the dishes away waiting for their return.

They came back; Melvin, my teary-eyed amazing Mother, and the evil monster. and it's only 5:41pm on Sunday... the countown til Monday is on -- when Mom goes to work and can be in her element, I attempt to fill dad's shoes at J-Nex, and my own, and blessed Centre for Neuro Skills takes Dad for his day of therepy. until tomorrow!