Promises, promises

Teacher Conference today for Sam... nothing Earth Shattering to report, same stuff as at home. "could be amazing, but is a little too impulsive" "would make a wonderful leader if he could show self control" "other kids look up to him ,but his cocky, know-it-all-ness turns them off" It's always the same at his conferences... he's so strong academically, but a bit behind socially. All his teachers have been quick to say that he is not alone in this: that it seems like the whole grade level is more immature that other classes. It helps me when I hear this, because it means it's not all on me. But it doesn't stop me from talking to the teacher like he was my therapist- telling him how Sam can be frustrating and beautiful all at the same time. That while I don't want to squeeze him into the box, that I need him to be able to conform to it, at least when the situation requires it. But all in all, his report card was better than ever, and as long as it keeps getting better I am a happy camper.

I think I was in need of some therapy because I dreamed about Madame and Darling. I seem to be doing that alot recently, and I'm really not sure why. This one was more of the twisting farm roads, familiar yet not taking me where I wanted to go. Then next thing I know, I am in their house, but hiding and she is yelling at him. He is sickly, but hugely fat and wheezing. She sees me and chases me down, hitting and slapping at me as she does. I slip away and make it to Grandpa- and he tells me how happy he is to see me and that he loves (!!) me. He's never said that before, and I am taken aback for a moment, and the shrew catches up to me. I take shelter behind his massive bulk, and he actually protects me from her. She slithers away, and he hugs me. I wake up lost and confused, but strangely peaceful. Does this mean he forgives me from the grave? Or that I have finally forgiven him? It's ironic in a way, that even in dreams she is the same as she ever was- but in dreams she is physically abusive to me, not emotionally. I wonder how much damage she really inflicted upon me. I try not to think about her very much at all because it is still painful. She's like a splinter. Or a blister. Hurts like a son of a bitch if you touch it just right, long after you thought you were healed.

Planting bulbs in the rain is likely all the therapy I'll ever get. It's good therapy too- planting, nurturing, helping things grow reminds me that life is a cycle, and that it does go on regardless of emotional baggage. And the saying that "to plant a garden, is to believe in tomorrow" is really quite poignant. It's grounding to work in the garden, and it serves to remind us that in the grand scope of the universe we are but fleas on the dog's belly.