Home very late tonight, John picked Zechy and I up at ulpan, and we did some shopping, then drove to the kenyone in Ra'anana. We very much enjoyed another new to us Bruce Willis movie, but can I remember the name? I just asked Zechy, it was Lucky Number Slevin.

That is quite an interesting movie title to see on the theatre boards, which alternate between English and Hebrew, and the English is often not spelled right. We didn't actually know the name of the movie 'til we were sitting in the theatre, because I quite reasonably assumed the 'Slevin' was a misspelled 'seven.' And one of the boards read 'Lucky Nuber Slevin.' What can I say?

I had wanted to write something important, and Hans and I, and now it's after 2am, with Zechy typing near me so it has to wait, but I really want to remember. Okay, I'm going to try and type it, at least briefly here.

It's not such a big deal maybe, after all the build-up, but it's important to me. It's something I would never tell anyone else, I only feel safe saying it here, where there is an element of anonymity which is missing in all my other contacts. It is this:

When Hans leaves home, whether because he runs away from the army, or moves to the U.S., or finishes his army service and gets his own apartment, it will be such a huge relief for me. I feel terrible saying it, but not so terrible. He's been so very much work and worry for so very long. Honestly if he was to move back to the U.S. and join the army, I would feel relieved of my responsibility, at long last. So many headaches and heartaches, so much terribly hard work. He's eighteen, and soon (I hope) he will be gone from my home. *sigh*

I love him, I love all of my children. But none of them was as hard, caused as much fear and pain, or challenged me in all ways as he has. Practically from his birth. He was the baby who couldn't be comforted, the toddler who couldn't learn to accept no, the asperger's syndrome child for whom I braced myself whenever anything didn't go his way because of the temper-tantrums which lasted for almost an hour and ended as often as not with him running out of air, choking himself, or turning blue.

He's the guy who hid out in his room, resented it if I tried to include him in things or asked him his business, and then complained that he was outside of everything. He's the kid who couldn't make friends, too sensitive, and apt to become violent if provoked. I feel the tension in my shoulders and chest, and the tightness, and such an effort to draw a breath just typing about it.

So, yeah, I want him gone. Not gone dead, or gone out of my life, but I want him to move on and be someone else's problem for a little while. If the U.S. army will take him on, so much the better. The U.S. army has a lot of practice dealing with misfits and making it work. Not always kindly, but then, what happens and how things turn out is always up to Hashem.

Oh, Gd, I feel awful about it all. I love my son. I want him to be close, and to have kids who spend as much time as possible with me, I want him to be happy and fulfilled, and I don't want to have to worry about him or work with him, or have to work on myself relating to him anymore. Seeing the possibility of the end in sight is just so encouraging. If it doesn't work - if he ends up having to stay here with us and do his three years in the IDF, before moving on - even if after he gets out of the IDF he doesn't move out immediately, I can certainly stand it, I've lasted this long. It's not like I'm desperate to be rid of him.

But I feel some almost unholy joy at the thought of him being on the other side of an ocean, at least for a while. *sigh* I wonder if there are any parts of parenting that are easy?

That's all for now. I'm going to work on the template a little bit more, and then I guess send out passwords. *sigh* I hate the way this looks, and for the moment, I can't really do any better. It's a lack of time, is all, but there it is. Feeling lonely and homesick tonight. Talked with John in the car on the way home and told him I am living in hell.

I'm a person who trained in interpersonal communication - who sees the world and people in terms of communication and how to further it. And I am married to a man who actively works to block any sort of effective communication at all times. My skills, or talents, or whatever they are, are completely unappreciated and largely unused. Which two things are probably the largest part of why I am so often sad, miserable, self-hating, lonely, and homesick. And of course, the fact that I can't communicate here in Israel, except with English speakers and in a pathetic almost pidgen Hebrew. *Sigh*

I am in hell.

Does a job exist that would use my talents, and how can I get one? Without being required to do things I absolutely am incapable of - like going through college, or learning law? Argh. I've been asking myself that question for more than twenty years. Still haven't found a working solution. I don't know if I'm doomed, but surely I am not going to see it in my life today. I only live in today. *sigh*

I'm going to bed then.

:: Yesterdays : Tomorrows ::

~~~Last Five Entries~~~
Hi and goodbye - 2010-10-15
I'll be moving on - 2010-10-10
Gold membership and stuff - 2010-10-10
Decisions, decisions - 2010-10-07
Days to go - 2010-10-06