update: a mental health "summit" is going down over at the (ex-ish) inlaws atm. that's how they actually talk/are. it has its charms, but who in their not-right-mind would want to go to a summit about it w their extended fucking family like an intervention ft seminar? the kid did his own intervention aplenty. and seminars with someone as quiet as Ears is best 2-3 people max or his voice gets lost.

attending the summit are Ears' dad stepmom gma gpa uncle + his wife and baby. (TOO MUCH hahahaha jeezus obviously) and they know it, everyone but Dickhead. the uncle is helpfully a neuropsychologist, autism research, he can represent the rights of Ears' brain to heal. and, the kicker, Ears can't drive, so I would have had to attend the summit, which no. basically Dickhead needs his family atm to pull his shit own together and they know it.

Ears and are off the grid which means whatever we want bc in truth nobody knows where I live in the first place (vaguely) nor has any clue where the cottage is at all, and both have wifi we just dont tell anyone and don't use it much. it's very quiet. bird tv and fires and cooking (I'm gonna roast a rabbit). 

I am just starting to actually breathe 🤏. and it didn't even happen to me. so I know, I can feel, the beatdown this has been for him. he is bouncing, a little more 🤏 each day as long as I follow the directions (steps, always steps). 

my life just utterly stopped that day. it's been nothing been a fight for this kid every waking moment since and I am not expecting that to change much until prolly maybe xmas 🤷🏽‍♀️. 

live in the day. make today as Good as humanly possible. challenge accepted. so/but I gotta also relearn that skill (faster).

he massacred a fish fry, he could eat a breaded whale, we talked about a sleeve tattoo (so like my instincts too, seeing is believing re transformation), his desired pattern of damascus steel, not like a pic of a knife but the waves themselves and color shift options. we talked about everything and nothing like we always do. except now I stop him, all the time, I am supposed to and he wants me to stop him on the basis of his 1000-yard stare, ask "what are you thinking now?" and he has to think "what am I thinking?" repeat repeat. coming back slow, like that. 

me: you look bemused, what are thinking about?

him: (pausing to focus it). I was just thinking all my dads want take me camping alla sudden, it's kinda nice (shrugging sweetly)

he is painfully sweet