scattered = shattered?

so good going down, but repeatedly bubbling up is slightly less pleasant.
talking to him sticks needles in my eyeballs. it's never really worth it. he only dominates, never listens, never fulfills, talks cyclically, repetitiously, aggravatingly. sometime, i will learn. sometime, i will remember to tell him to slow down, shut up, listen. or i just won't call.
talking to him, i told him today, is dysfunctional. the only option, at this point, is to end our communication altogether. and if he dies i can regret it.
she's such trouble. but i want to believe she's not. i want to believe she's a good kid who's just not being taught appropriately. my instinct is to yank her away from everyone who's so quick to dish out diagnoses, so quick to point their fingers, slap labels: disruptive, disturbed, disabled. i know that she is brilliant. i know that she is capable. i don't want to see what she has fade behind a pharmaceutical. i don't want to watch her vibrance disappear. she is regularly exactly what i'm not, which leads as often to admiration as irritation. is lying the same as embellishing? does it matter?
he started taking pills and it restructured his entire life, his entire brain. but he's not like her at all, except that his quiet lack of focus is analogous to her vivacious one. he started taking pills and suddenly couldn't imagine life without them, before them. maybe there's something there for her, but i want all the options, all the alternatives first. i don't want to hastily opt for the quick fix, potential brain-fry.
i dreamt of being a clumsy misfit, of fucking up a modeling session, of tripping along a runway and talking loudly out of turn and burping and laughing and being accused of having no class and eventually being asked to leave the session because it obviously wasn't where i belonged, because i couldn't keep it together long enough to blend into the group. the woman in charge was angry, haughty, disgusted by me. the woman in charge dressed with precision in black stilettos and a flowing black gown. she peered over her spectacles at me with judgmental eyes. the other participants stared me down. and i walked sheepishly out the door, into my parents' kitchen, breeding ground of misfits.
i have never fit. there is no place for me, even where i thought i'd fit and be understood, even where misfits congregate in the name of higher learning, a liberal education. i still didn't fit. i was still distorted, warped.
she is not a misfit like i have been a misfit. she's much more gregarious, much more extroverted, in many ways my lighter, brighter side. still, she feels the misfit when she's with her friends, when she's sitting in class, when she can't keep it together to act exactly like all of them. she feels the misfit when she watches them in their more traditional roles, with houses and daddies and mothers of a much earlier generation. we actively and ardently homogenize our society from such an early stage; she's distorted, warped, too scattered and loosely wound to be 'normal,' but she's six and still everyone can't stop themselves from pointing her, it out.
this is so big for me. i don't know why it chokes me up. i don't know why i act like her, want to believe that, in the face of it all, my kid is ok.
we don't want to change her, she said, just help her. she's wonderful in many ways, she said, but those ways sometimes get in the way. be more open, she said, stop being so defensive, stop being so mad at them. they're professionals who are only trying to do their jobs. or make them easier.
she said she doesn't want him to color my experience. she wants my experience to be my own. she said she doesn't want them to color my experience for the same reason. i don't know how to make my experience my own without integrating them. they are all slices of my world, of this experience. they will all be there, watching. they will all be there, experiencing. it will not be a bubble; my experience will not be distinct from any of their experiences, so we might as well not pretend to parse things now.
yawning and gurgling, how i wish to be a cat, well-fed and ready for a nap.