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2:00 p.m. - 03/23/02 Of course, it took Stephanie about six years, and residential can condense your life enough to speed the process along, which means it's less discouraging, which means it has a higher success rate. And I do understand that not everyone in treatment has a good experience, and not everyone stays stable after their discharge, but I am still rather biased in favor of the extreme. I think treatment teams on the outside can help sustain health, but I've yet to see someone who can alter their pattern of their own accord. I mean, I guess many of us *could* - but...this is hard no matter how you do it. Why not take the (eventually) least taxing way? There's this choppy needy feeling in me that envies his being in treatment. He's not even there now, and when I think about the fact that he spent the past 2 1/2 months in a hospital, I want to pout and cry and be held. Still, there's something miraculous about (not only his recovery but) the fact that he showed up today, when I was feeling all friendless and wishing someone my age would just appear and treat me like a worthwhile creature. He will be good for me I think - this new, replenished Shawn. However our friendship unfolds, I honestly believe he'll be good for me. Imagine: someone in decent driving distance who knows what it's like to damn people for sending you to a hospital, and then come home crying at those same people to let you stay. I mean, maybe it isn't quite the same - but- he told me today that he understands some of how I felt coming out of RED, and any expression of feeling from Shawn (especially without coaxing) is completely new to me. It's such a gift to have him on the other side of the residential fence. Even if it's only brainwashing, I'm glad we view from the same angle now. Mom is at that art exhibit (guess it wasn't two weeks away)- the one I thought Chelsie might be at. She dressed up until she was beautiful and her hair was fluffy around her face: gray and brown as earth. I watched her put her earrings in, and it occurred to me that this is how it would be if something happened to my dad. It occurred to me that just this easily he was ommitted from the equation, and Mom clothed herself in extraversion, I watched her do so...we supported and kept distance simultaneously. It scared me, I guess, that he's so far gone, his absence is simply an easy explanation for what exists either way. I know all wise people say there's no such thing, but I'd give a lot to live with a functional family for just a few days. No Brady/ Cleaver scenarios, just something simple and loving and controlled. I think that's why I often end up doing so when I sleep. I'm often temporarily adopted by people who have yet to show faults around me, or people who I meet for the first time when Morpheus drops me off on their step. Do you ever get that stiffness in your shoulders saying, "I really need a hug; isn't there *anyone* we trust enough to ask?" chord � � |