Saturday, October 15, 2016
My little Superman.
Unfortunately, my son has been this for the past week. At first, the doctor thought it was just a regular cough, but it turned into a diagnosis of Strep Throat. I knew it wasn't just your run of the mill cough because he also suffered from a very high fever, at times. I was worried to death, and the stress from constant worrying made me sick. I couldn't sleep all week, and I was afraid to take my Seroquel because that medication knocks me out. I didn't want to be rendered practically unconscious, if I was going to receive a phone call about my son's condition. I had my son over for the beginning of the week, but his mother had him the last few days. My son is my world and if anything happen to him, I would be devastated. I really can't put into words or convey to anyone how much my son means to me. He's my world!
The sad fact about my constant worrying this week is that my Paranoid Schizophrenic symptoms reared their ugly head. The worse of my symptoms had to be the constant negative images that my brain kept showing me. I would picture my son's lifeless body, in a constant loop that played repeatedly in my head. It was just awful and I couldn't shake the images. There have been many times in the past, where my brain would constantly show me terrifying images of my son in car accidents, or various death scenarios. As much as I would try, I couldn't get the ugly images out of my mind. I think this is one of the most diabolical things my illness does to me.
The last few days, when my son wasn't with me, I held onto a hat that I bought him some years back. It's a Superman hat, and the story behind the hat is something I'd like to share. You see, one day a few years back, I went to Target with my son. I had planned on making very limited purchases, like milk and bread. However, my son noticed the Superman hat that was for sale. He said, "Da, I want that!" I told him, "Why?" He explained, "Because I want to wear a hat and be like you." I looked at him and smiled because I often wear a ball cap when I go outside. Wearing a hat makes me feel safe and less noticeable, and that's something my illness wants from me. This was the first time my son conveyed to me that he wanted to be like me. It was more than him wanting me to buy him something. He wanted to be like his dad, and my heart smiled. I keep that hat near me all the time, especially when my son is with his mother. It's more than a hat to me; it's something that keeps me connected to my son, while I'm all alone in my apartment. I love my son!
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My dying car...