–verb (used without object), -at·ed, -at·ing.
to repeat something insistently or redundantly
It has been said by others that a blog, by design, reveals only the sides you wish to share. I try to be positive in my posts because so often I’m not away from here. I avoid blogging as much as I’d like, I think — because to write is to face yourself and acknowledge your fears. To write is to look at what you’ve been trying to push away. Like tonight — I am plagued by doubt and worry, obsessing on what every little stim means, where every odd phrase is coming from, what every blank stare could portend.
And no, I’m not worried about John so much as Sam. Today he perseverated on this the entire afternoon: How are you feeling, Mommy? Are you happy? And I would answer Yes, Sam, I am very happy. Two minutes later: Are you happy Mommy? I would try Yes, I’m happy, are you happy Sam? Five minutes later, yelled from another room: Mommy! Are you happy Mommy? Like a broken record, he posed this question every 2-5 minutes for the next two hours. I tried ignoring, distracting, yelling, holding, talking.
I hate it when I yell, when I feel so out of control.
Then there were a few blank stares thrown in and the odd, out-of-the-blue hand and finger movements. There was some nonsense talk that was directed at no one. There was the play date at the playground with his classmates when he refused to leave my side and begged to go home as soon as we arrived (while I chased John who kept beelining for the exit).
Well, can I just say (1) Signing Time DVD, My Whole Family/Feelings: you are headed back to the library tomorrow. We don’t want you ’round here no more, and (2) this is why I married my husband who said: It’s just one day, a moment. That’s all. and held me as I released my day.