"12 November 2007 - Had a conversation with [difficult child] about tomorrow (13 Nov 2007). Asked him what he's going to do. He said "be good". I asked for specifics. He stuck with "just behaving". I brought up the issue with the urine on the floor. I told him this wasn't a talk to get angry with him or for him to get in trouble. I just wanted the truth. He told me he had urinated on the floor out of anger. I told him it's OK to be angry, but he needed to handle it better; he needs to figure out new coping skills. We got into talking about why he acts the way he does when he's at school that differs so much from home. He said he feels "nervous". He compared it to how I feel when I go to the mall (VERY anxious, scared, angry, etc...). We, again, talked about coping skills and how I had tried many things (and am still trying) to deal with my anxiety and he should try, also, without going down the medication route ("that's the LAST thing you always want to do...there's no need for unnecessary chemicals in your body if you can handle your feelings in a way without them"). I will be discussing this with Dr. [Psychologist] tomorrow, at 1:45, for my appointment. I will also be escorting [difficult child] to school tomorrow morning to "ready" him for the transition back to school." This is my entry for today to add to the file of my difficult child's behavior. As I wrote it, something screamed at me. Me. The nightmares, the fears, the hoarding, the anxiety, the energy, the anger, the depression, the crying, the imagination, the wandering, the mirror perfect image of MYSELF (give or take a couple inches in height). Just when I thought... "I'm raising this kid right. No abuse, no drugs or alcohol, I'm involved in his school, nice house, neighborhood, blah blah blah..." WHAM! It...doesn't...matter. Geez...just when ya started agreeing with everyone that maybe "it's not your fault". Pshhhh....I bet. So who to point the finger at? God? My parents? The water? Who cares? The fact is...I'm still screwed up. Like my son said...I can't go into the mall without horrible fits of rage and needs to rip my skin off and choke people with it. Nobody can look at me or talk to me or - God forbid- touch me. I hate everyone around me and the cursed people who built the kind of building that would house so many people at once...at the same time! I tell him...fix yourself. Learn coping skills. Try to focus. Twiddle your thumbs. Meditation. Exercise. Diet. Get a stupid journal. Draw! Sing! Screeeeaaaam! Just don't take medications. Ha! Has anyone checked Mommy's medicine cabinet, lately? Cos it's chock full! What an example, huh? Heh... Hey...at least "I'm raising this kid right. No abuse, <s>no drugs</s> or alcohol, I'm involved in his school, nice house, neighborhood, blah blah blah..." Who says mirrors shouldn't be "broken"?