Yesterday was Therapy Tuesday. Hope had a tough day at school. We took the girls off the bus and started for the Little City. We planned to eat along the way, but pet groomer called to remind us we had not picked up our two Maine Coon Cats yet. We went to do that and MK drove (by herself) to meet us. We all grabbed something semi-quick to eat, MK took the cats home, and we went to therapy. I went in with Hope first. Monday, after one of her rages, Hope had told me that she hates me because I always hit her. That is a problem because I never hit her.
I went in with Hope to fill the therapist in on the last two weeks. Hope was very angry at the therapist and started throwing things at her and calling her names. After thirty minutes of no progress, I went back to the waiting room and let them finish the session without me. I easily heard the thumping and door slamming, so I knew nothing had improved. Hope came out and GB went back for her session.
The Dad tried to do home work with Hope, but she was more interested in getting him angry then doing homework. He told her to let him know when she was ready for home work and started to read his book. Hope kept escalating until she was screaming loud enough to disturb everyone in the building. The Dad took her out to the car.
Towards the end of GB’s session, GB asked me to come back with her. We spoke with the therapist about the tough time Hope has been having for weeks. GB told us that when Hope calls me names or tries to hurt me she feels “sick in the stomach”. I told I sometimes felt like that, too. We talked a little longer and just before the session ended, the therapist told GB she was proud of how well she was handling herself in the middle of all Hope’s chaos.
I hate Tuesdays.