Ok, time to get serious!

Yesterday yielded a phone call that was (surprise) not the best. My mother had taken her to therapy, since we all decided that it was not going well when I took her. Of course, on the way back, I got The Phone Call. My mom was mad; she had missed her exit and with my daughter crying and whining in her ear, it was frustrating. I know all about this; I have been going through these types of drives for years. So, I helped my mom get back on track and then got on the phone with my daughter. This  call was not at the best time for me; I was getting ready for a psychiatrist appointment myself and also, I wanted to vote beforehand. By the way, I am an avid voter so this was important for me to not miss the poll time. Anyway, she was crying and telling me that I never listen and that she wanted to see her friends this weekend–you know, the same conversation. Now I am really not against her seeing this one particular girlfriend this weekend, really. I tried to be patient and listen to her. I feel bad that I am taking away her teenage years. This led me to think about the current situation that she is in. A situation that I am not happy about at all.

First of all, I have not been given the exact rules that the girl’s need to follow at the home. I have not been given a treatment plan, and it has been 6 weeks. I do not think that the medication she is on is helping her because the anger is there and is stronger than ever. This is why I feel that therapy is more important than medication, but they are not really giving her the type of therapy that I was first told she would get. What a mess! I have a meeting with a mental health associate that helped get her placed in this home, so I wrote a very long list of complaints. I feel accomplished, at least in getting on track about why I am miserable. I can’t wait to talk to her tonight. My mother has also scheduled an appointment with my daughter’s therapist at the home tomorrow and I am going. I feel like bringing the walls down around me. I swear, nothing has worked for years now. The only thing that has been positive about this experience is getting the knowledge of how F****ed up the mental health system is. This has caused me to change my major ( I am currently taking classes online). I am gong to be an advocate; a voice for those lost in the system. I know how frustrating it is to be a part of this-to be a parent that is only treading water to keep my head afloat. But the girls that have been placed in these homes by the state, well, they have no one but advocates to speak for them. This scares me. I want to be their voice; I want to make sure that they get what they need. It may not happen for a few years, but I know that I will put my heart and soul into it. A nurse that worked at a hospital my daughter stayed in for a while once told me that the reason almost all of the people who work in the mental health facilities work there because they have been affected personally in one way or another.

I believe that and, one day, I will join them in their quest to heal these young lives.

November What???

It’s November already? Geez, time flies. I count time by the nightly phone calls that I have with my daughter. My days are filled with watching my niece and so time flies by; she is two months old and requires all of my time. But at 4 o’clock, when she is picked up, the timer begins. Decide what to make for dinner. Start dinner. My husband gets home, we eat and then I have an hour to do homework, all the while looking at the clock tick away until my phone time comes. I never know who it will be when she answers the phone. That is what sets me on edge. Will she be in a good mood and perhaps tell me about her day? Or will she hold me hostage on the phone, screaming about being there and being “shoved to the side because I don’t care”. Sometimes it is just begging to “go back to Washington”. It is very frustrating and the 15 minute call is very l-o-n-g.

Last Tuesday set my week up to fail. I picked her up to go to our weekly trauma therapy session. I was going to let her see her Dad over Halloween weekend. When she got into the car, however, I could see the light shining in her eyes. It was not a good day, and we had a 30 minute drive ahead of us. Oh, I want to be involved so bad, and at the same time it seems toxic when we are together. I know she would be better acting if I was not in the picture. But it cannot be that way. I am her mother and i will be there through thick and thin. I pray that one day she will understand. I was never around her to cause her pain; I was there to make sure that I did everything I could. Anyway, I digress (which I am very good at). She instantly started in on me about doing more and more and why can’t I just trust her and why can’t I just let her go? When she asks that, she means let her go forever. She believes that I should sign away my rights and let her walk away.

I cannot do that for obvious reasons. Reasons she does not understand. It is times like these that I fully understand her sickness. The fantasy world that she has built around her, it is scary. She screamed at me all of the way to the therapist and when we arrived, she would not get out of the car. It was pouring so hard, but he went out and talked to her through the window for about ten minutes before he convinced her to come in. Now, this is supposed to be trauma therapy, but every time we have gone he has had to calm her down just from the ride there with me. Ugh!

For the ride back, I had a special treat. I was scared that she was going to hit me or attack me so that we would run off of the road. It was kind of scary, I will say that. I decided then and there that she was not going to go to her Dad’s for the weekend; she was going to stay at the home to understand that she cannot talk to me or any elders like the way she talks. No respect, no responsibility at all for her behavior.

And so she stayed at the home. I went ahead and babysat my niece for Halloween, because I can never celebrate a holiday when I know that my daughter is not celebrating it. This is how it has been for the last few years now. I feel like I need to be on an even playing ground. It drives my husband crazy, but I am not changing that. It takes away a tiny bit of guilt that I carry seeing her like this. If only I had a confidant to help me through this sometimes. I have friends, of course, they are more than accommodating to listen if I need to talk. But I cannot fill their ears full of my pain when I am with them and it is supposed to be a celebration or party of sorts. You know? I am grateful that I have a few readers who write me and give me a push toward sanity. I thank you.

And so, Halloween came and went with no ripples or waves. I hid my head, like an ostrich in the ground. I am seeing my therapist this week and we are actually turning the conversation in a different direction. We are now going to deal with me, and me alone. How I feel about several things going on in my life.  Whereas I usually am not excited to go and regale her with tales from the week before, maybe now we can start to work on the guilt that has taken over my very existence. The guilt that follows me from room to room, telling me that if I had just….maybe things would be different. Maybe she would be smiling; maybe she would be laughing and living and loving.

I just don’t know…Anyway, hope you all had a great Halloween and now we are full steam ahead into November. I will be watching that clock tick…

One Year Past

Yesterday was the anniversary of my daughter’s best friend’s death. She was killed in a horrible car wreck and it has devastated my daughter every day since. She has talked non stop about it since the day it happened. Usually, children with this kind of mental disability tend to obsess over something, and death is severe to deal with for anyone. So this was particularly hard for her, and she has not wanted to talk with me about it as much as she wants to talk with her best friend’s family. My heart breaks for her, not understanding about what goes on after death. But then again, who does understand it?

Yesterday I took her out of the home she stays in and we went to the gravesite. We stopped and got roses and a teddy bear. The day was the most perfectly beautiful fall day, with the colors glowing brightly off of every leaf and a gentle breeze blowing a perfect 71 degrees. I walked her silently to the young girl’s grave, thinking how unjust it is when someone so young leaves this world. She sat down and wanted to be by herself to ponder and remember great moments with her friend, and so I left her for a while. I cried as I walked back to the car, hoping that some of the skills she has been learning lately would help her cope with the day. I drove down to a cafe a block away and waited for her call. She wanted to stay for a couple of hours and I was not going to say no.

The only problem with this perfect day is that it took place in Washington, our old town that has given me so much grief these past few years. And sure enough, she called shortly after and asked if she could just stay there and visit people. Of course the answer had to be no, she had a therapy session at three and I needed to have her back for dinner. Her therapists thought that it was of utmost importance that the one see her after such an occurance in her day.

The day turned bad.

Like black clouds rolling in before a terrible storm, she started yelling at me on the phone. Telling me that I was ruining her day and that she had never  been thought of once by me; that all of the day’s plans were plans that I had made and not her. She hung up on me and then called me back and asked, no-told me to come get her. When a got there, she slammed the door and for an hour proceeded to scream at me.

I am a bad mother. I should have never given birth to her. I am a freak. I am crazy. She hates my guts. If she could slap my face off right now, she would. She wants to leave me and never see me again. I am useless and have never been there for her.

Now I know these are just words. I know it is the demon that lives deep inside her, not allowing her to control her emotions. But even knowing this, I could not help the tears that rolled down my face. How these words sting at me! She is 16 years old; old enough to know what she is saying. Old enough to know what buttons to push. How much longer will this go on?

We went on to therapy and she made it very clear that she did not want to see him. But she did and then we drove on to her residential home. With her yelling every vicious thing she could at me. We got there just as school was letting out and she refused to get out of the car. She just wanted to yell at me. She said I never listened. But all that I do is listen. And listen. It is the same circular conversation that has been going on for years. “Why don’t you let me go?” “Why don’t you let me live with my friend’s?” She would never make it a day on her own right now, but I can’t get her to understand. Anyway, I had to get her therapist on campus and her teacher to help me. They promised to have someone ready for her to talk to, and for her to be able to call a friend in Washington that night.

I came home, somehow feeling defeated. It makes me want to stay away, but I will not. I will not be brought down, even though that demon wants me to. The demon inside her. I will defeat it, not the other way around. I just pray every day that tomorrow may be better. I have not talked to her yet today, but we shall see.

Thank You

Friends, just a quick blog to thank you all who read this and support me. The great thing about the Web is that I could be walking right next to you and never know that you have been my guardian angel, my support through all of this. It truly means so much. It helps when times are rough. Yes, I have listened. Times were tough and no, I will not emancipate her. I am stepping back (once again) and my mom is coming up to bat. She will be calling her and going to visit her. The great thing about this place is that they encourage visits, not prohibit them. So she can be visited whenever-through the week or on weekends. We choose and I really fell like no one is a prisoner. Some residential facilities that we have been to have tight rules and it takes the power of parenting out of your hands, which can scare you to death. So for now, I will listen to my husband and my family and also to you–my faceless friends who read and give me advice. I sometimes feel that I come off as cold, but I am not. I know that one day these parts of her life will help her and I will stand back in glory as she makes decisions in her life that count.

One update worth mentioning: She told my mother yesterday that therapy was “good”. Not “ok” or “fine”, but “good”. This in itself shows that she is liking one of her therapists-that he is slowly doing something that is working. Another awesome achievement: they have been playing volleyball at her school and they are forming a team. Tryouts are the 22nd and she told my mom that she may be trying out!!! Glory day!!! This is one step forward, one step towards building self worth and self esteem!! So you are right; she needs this. I just need to give her her space to figure things out and in the long run I know she will come out a winner

Have an awesome day!

A Side Note

I know that I usually am writing about my daughter, but tonight I just had to get something out before it threatens my head any longer. I generally don’t get along with my husband. It started because of the stress of my daughter. He thinks that I should continuously take my medicine for bipolar and it ticks me off sometime. He thinks that I need therapy and if he had his way, I would go everyday. It just gets tiring. I stay at home because he wants me to. He wants me to go to school and to take care of the house. But then when we fight, he throws it in my face. He suddenly doesn’t seem to remember that I scrub this house until it sparkles. I try my hardest to give him a home he can be proud of. I constantly go through the basement and throw away hordes of stuff, just to make him not nervous about all of the Rubbermaid tubs that I have stored away. I make him lunch with love. I make him snacks to take to work so that he will never be hungry, because I know he works hard. I support him on his side job, which is in the music business. In fact, this past Saturday night he literally rocked our town. My heart soared for him and I kept telling him how happy and proud I am of him. But in the end, when we argue, he forgets all of that. I am so tired of everything. It is hard dealing with my daughter, but instead of us being closer and becoming one force dealing with this-it is ripping us apart. I am almost to where I should stay on the opposite side of the house than him. It would probably make him happier. Geez.

I am meticulous with the yard. I have landscaped my buns off to make it beautiful. I am sure that I have brought the value of the house up alot because of it.

Maybe I am making this up in my head. Maybe he is right about everything. Maybe I do suck, and do nothing and maybe I am a gold digger. All I know is what I feel in my heart and it has always been big love for him. But I feel it dwindling and it scared me.

So maybe I have things that annoy him. Doesn’t everyone??? Don’t we take the good with the bad? I am so confused. Sometime I just want him to hear me and  be on my side. But never, never is he ever on my side. He always plays devil’s advocate and tells me what I should be doing. And I am tired.

My daughter and I talk every evening. I keep my voice up and try to be cheery, but she is not. She is depressed that I put her in a residential home. She lets me know every time we talk that she hates me and when she gets the chance, she will leave and never talk to me again. I believe her, she has been telling me that for a very long time. I really messed up everything when I got a divorce. Even the therapists and doctors tell me that it was a catalyst for her spinning out of control. I want to emancipate her. I am tired and I have nothing to give anymore. If she thinks she can do it, then I need to let her try. But no, my husband thinks I have lost my mind. He just tells me to leave her there and stop talking to her. So he basically wants me to let her stay in her room, thinking about things–that drives her nuts, the constant thinking of bad things. He says that I should stop talking to her and I don’t feel that I can while she is there. If she got out, maybe lived with her dad, or friends at least she has people to talk to. At least she will feel that she has a place somewhere in life.

I don’t know. I am tired and he thinks I am stupid and have lost my mind.

I don’t care anymore.

Fall Into a Routine

Happy Fall! As you may know, I am not a fall person. It is icky and wet, leaves fall off and we are left with bare. I have been this way my whole life. But I try to make the best of it (and for you gals in the Keys, hats off to you!) I want to move to the warm, Florida beaches. I have made Sarasota my summer home for 25 years. I just love it, but my husband works for, let’s say “Officials” and cannot move as of right now. He has the opportunity to transfer to D.C. but that seems rather stuffy for me.

Besides, we have my daughter settled. (Once again.)

Finally we got the attention we have been looking for over 4 years. They heard our cries! She is getting the treatment she needs in a home that is roughly 20 minutes from my door. I am elated. She is not. But over time she will be. She doesn’t know it yet, but my love for her will never give up. One day she will be in college (?) or have an apartment and she will know how to handle life’s challenges along the way. She is learning to channel anger into brilliant energy. She has a therapist that she sees every Tuesday. He is her trauma specialist. She really likes seeing him, and that is gold. No screaming at me, she just waits for me to pick her up and we travel in silence, which is ok because for so long there was no silence. Her days at her new home consist of getting up in the morning, getting ready and eating, doing a chore and then going to school, which is on campus. That is great because she does transition well and having school right across the grounds is easy to deal with. She has even mentioned to me that she likes biology. This is pretty cool. She will be there for 180 days, but there is no custody stuff, so I can have her any weekend I choose. I can take her home for the holidays. Kind of like boarding school, but with doctors on call and therapy-both individual and group. I have learned from my mistake the last time she was in residential. She cannot be removed before they think she is ready. I did it for selfish reasons and it backfired on me. My therapist gives me a mantra to repeat often: “I love you, so I am letting you go.” Now this could mean so many different things. In my case, I love her enough to keep her in a facility to learn everyday living, to learn how to deal with anger management, to learn how to get along with others. And most importantly, to get through her grief of losing two best friends so close together. The anniversaries are coming up, so I am taking her to the gravesites to put flowers on them. She needs this for the grieving process.

I will never truly let her go, but I will let her go enough to have the help she needs. Every day I want to go upstairs to her room and jump on the bed and tickle her. Love her. Make her pancakes. Now I know as a teenager, she would not want this anyway. But don’t we, as mothers, crave this? Don’t we always wish our daughters never grow past 5 years  old? Time is a dirty thing; it robs us of so much. But at the same time, we grow, we learn and we pass it on so that it can be remembered through generations.

That’s enough of my soapbox talk today. Thanks for listening

One More Prayer for My Beautiful Daughter

Today was a whirlwind. I was on the phone all day. Sometimes crying, sometimes numb. Waiting for calls back. I hope that you never have to go through this, but if you do remember this: nothing gets done for months, maybe years. You will actually be either one foot in the nut house yourself, or your child will almost be of legal age. That is where we are. My daughter is 16, almost 18. My goal is for her to make it 18 and on. My goal is to give her life skills like combing your hair, or brushing your teeth-not just when you feel like it. Life skills such as making your bed, remembering to eat-that Marborlo Menthols does not substitute as food. And most of all, I want her to know and understand that although she is a person with a mental illness, she is a gifted, beautiful young woman who has so much p0tential to give to this world. I don’t want her to be angry, I want her to channel this energy into wowing someone, into getting a career or at least a hobbie that will mark her place on this earth. She needs to know that her medicine schedule will help her achieve these goals. In that way, I guess I will always be playing “mother”.  I will constantly want to know if she is taking her meds. Whether or not she gives me the information is another thing by that time.

But I dream.

Today we took her from the hospital to emergency youth services. What a horrible sounding sentences. It reminds me of things that this family is not. We are together, with jobs, with love,with food and shelter. But I am finding out that “emergency youth services” do not mean for the poor, or for the homeless or for drug related things. I feel shame for thiniking that. They are set up to help a family when it is deemed that a youth cannot come home at the time and there is time between that and when they will be going to a residential home. So this weekend that is where she will be. I sent her favorite pig stuffed animal and her drawing book. I could not go to pick her up; my husband went instead. I would surely wreck through my tears. I have found out that my strenght is not what I thought it would be. I will give her this weekend and then go visit. She will be settled by then, like she has been in the past.

I swear this pain is horrible. Yes I know that people have lost children. My heart breaks for them; at least I can see her again. But to have a child that seems normal until you look into her eyes and see a lost, vast deepness where she is trapped and cannot get out, well I have no words for it.

I do not want to “give a shout out” to the mental health system in this government. It is slow, it has taken us years to get anywhere, it is painful. No one really cares, because they aren’t dealing with it. But these are our children and we want to see them blossom. Never give up. Keep calling numbers, keep bothering doctors, keep talking to mother’s online that can help you weather the storm.

And this of all my Hopes
This, is the silent end
Bountiful colored, my Morning rose
Early and sere, its end

Never Bud from a Stem
Stepped with so gay a Foot
Never a Worm so confident
Bored at so brave a Root

~Emily Dickenson

The Hardest Day, so far

Today I had a meeting with all of the mental health team that is helping me at this moment. There was our in home therapist as well. Since my daughter is still in the behavioral health hospital, we need to come up with a plan as to get her back on track when she gets out. The have now adjusted her meds to Geodon from Lithium before and upped her Lamictal (again). We always see an upswing in mood with the levels of Lamictal being increased, which is great. She gets daily therapy at the hospital which is great, also. Problem is, the in home therapy is not working so well. It seems to the therapist, the mental health caseworkers and to my husband that I am not holding up very well. With that being said, the next step is to get Division of Family Services involved (again) in order to get her into a group treatment home, where she would get ’round the clock help. I am so confused. I would like to put her back into a more “posh” living arrangement, like we had her at the other residential facility from March to July. This time to keep her until 17. The care given there was great; they were teaching her coping skills and everyday living skills, as well as keeping up with her classes and all. But who can afford $6000 a month???? The one thing that I want to make clear ( to myself included) is that I am not giving up any parental rights to my daughter. I mean, that would tear me in two. I have to keep telling myself that. But in the instances of using DFS, it would seem like a likely explanation. But they assure me that the ultimate goal is reunification of the family. One day I might see my daughter progress and maybe have a career. Maybe have a life because of this. She has to stay in the hospital for the next week while we iron things out. I believe then that once the caseworkers are involved, they go to the hospital and take her to a group home, where she will stay. She will continue being seen by the best adolescent psychiatrist in our city (thank God) and she will also still go to trauma therapy to get through the feelings of losing two friends in such a short time , and also the sexual abuse trauma that just recently came into light.

That brings up so many powerful emotions.

I know that I did nothing wrong. I know that she was spending the night with a friend, that is normal. In fact, I was so happy that maybe she was making a friend in our area. They tell me that alot of her anger toward me would be normal because I am her caregiver and I was not there to protect her. Oh, how I wish I could turn back the clock! How I wish I could have seen the future and prevented this. No one wants to see their child in this anguish. I will continue to take the brunt of this anger for as long as she needs to give it to me. I love her. I will see her through this. I know that some days I feel like I cannot go on, but then a burst of energy deep inside me comes through and I live to see another day.

I will continue to write in this journal, especially through this next bout of therapy and craziness that is about to accompany our days. My wish is that someone might stumble over this blog and that it could help them get through the rough storm that they are weathering. I appreciate all of the kind words I am being sent; they also help me.

“Do not let your fire go out, spark by irreplaceable spark, in the hopeless swamps of the approximate, the not-quite, the not-yet, the not-at-all.  Do not let the hero in your soul perish, in lonely frustration for the life you deserved, but have never been able to reach. Check your road and the nature of your battle.

The world you desired can be won. It exists, it is real, it is possible, it is yours.”

-Ayn Rand

Sitting here with my dogs…thank goodness for dogs :)

Today my daughter was admitted to the Behavioral Health Center. Again. She has now threatened to stab my husband. More and more she has no remorse for things she does or thinks. My heart is heavy, hurting. What is going on? So I come home with a dizzy head. My daughter’s last words to me were ” I hate your guts”. I know I can chalk that up to teenage talk, to getting mad. They are changing her medicine again. Does it ever even work? Now we are looking at foster residential homes. I guess they have to go to school during this time, even though they are 16 or older. I really want this. I want her to achieve great things. She may never love me again. She may never want to talk to me, even. But if she grows into the beautiful young lady that I see when I look at her, it will be worth it. I will give up everything for that.

For now, I gorge on food and make myself positively ill. But I have my two wonderful dogs to cuddle with. They know when I am crying. They sense when I am sad. My lhasa brings me her favorite rawhide bone. My shitzu just offers undying love without asking anything in return. I will lay my head down with them in my arms and weep for what has happened today.

And pray that my decisions are correct, made from the head and not the heart.

Add Borderline Personality Disorder, (just for kicks)

Wow, what a roller coaster ride. With every morning that I stir, the first thought in my head is “What will today bring?”. With her being diagnosed with borderline personality disorder on top of everything else, I am doing all of the research that I can. It just fits her to a tee. It saddens me, but at last we have the therapy sessions in place. The intensive home therapy. They come to our house 3-4 days a week and stay for 3 hours. They are teaching her how to “feel her body” so that she can feel the onset of anger before it engulfs her. Things like yoga and relaxation techniques are being used. We are in the first stages of trauma therapy to address the loss of her best friend and another killed in car accidents. Every minute of every day is centered around getting her better.

And yet, I just can’t see the light at the end of the tunnel.

Every day she yells. Every day she screams at me. She won’t go to school. She won’t do anything. She is negative, she is unresponsive. Progress? I am not sure we have seen any just yet. All of this is a great struggle to my well being. What if it is always like this? Is this how my life will be forever? It is hard to be positive and want to help someone when all they do is tell you they hate you and never want to see you. All they want is to get far, far away from you. My emotions are run down. Two weeks ago I entered a state in which I have never been in, even glimpsed. I felt like there was nothing — no reason for anything. Nothing would ever change. It was taking my heart and soul, living in torment like this. Nothing mattered. I am grateful my husband was there, in that room. He saved me. I am still very depressed, very sad. I can’t reason, I am in severe therapy myself. I will dig myself out of this hole, one day.

The mental health professionals that come to the house–their goal is to keep the child in the home. But it is getting ever increasingly hard to do that. She was arrested (again) on Thursday for attacking me. Another night in juvie. But she showed no remorse; in fact, she told her DJO that she would do it again. Sometimes I fear her. Sometimes I loathe her.

But I can’t stop loving her. Even with all that she does and says, I still see the small baby girl she once was. Oh, how I wish for those days. Maybe I could pay more attention to her? Maybe watch for telltale signs? Maybe change fate? They tell me it is brain related, but I think it will always be a mother’s guilt that I somehow missed that moment in time when I should have been watching more closely, protecting her from some foreign evil that now encompasses her whole being.

I am going to start again to find a residential treatment facility; this is getting too big to handle at home for my husband and I. We are struggling ourselves, fighting to save a marriage that was once harmonious and strong. But this kind of pressure is heavy weight. Borderlines love to get between people and cause trouble. We know this, but it still happens. What kind of rules to set, what kind of punishments to adhere to. And the stress of the broken doors, the holes in walls, the constant state of unrest. No downtime, no “us time”. My mind is always on her and I am pushing my husband to the back of the line. This hurts him. Today I realized that I need him always in my life. I am going to put my heart and soul into saving this partnership between him and I. I don’t know if I can ever save her from herself, but I know that I will always need him in my life.

And so, as the new week begins, so does a new strategy for me. Try something new every week; you may hit the jackpot one day. It may work. She may smile at me. He might feel included and safe.

I might just actually feel for once. It has been a long time.