Raising Rachel

My 12 year old has been in residential treatment for almost two years. I need to try to find a way to not let her affect us so deeply. Our six year old Joey is refusing to see her, or even be in the same room when we talk with her on the phone. I think he's handling it the best of all of us.

We used to think she had Early Onset Schizophrenia, but she's admitted that she was faking the hallucinations to get away with doing what she wanted when she wanted, and she laughs maniacally when she talks about it. Then she claims she still has the hallucinations, so I never know when she's telling the truth.

When she admits to doing something wrong, and we call her on it and give her a consequence, she changes her story. Like we're stupid and will forget what she just told us. She's stealing food she's allergic to, and making herself sick. I don't think she's ever coming home, and it hurts so badly.

My therapist tells me I have to try to love her from a distance and stop trying to change her and realize I did the best I could with what I had to work with. It's so hard to give up on my child.

We're still doing weekly therapy and visits with her, and nightly phone calls, just in case it touches her somewhere deep inside and makes some sort of difference. I'm just not sure it does anymore. I think it might be too late. I'm scared for her. And I'm scared for society because of her.

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She hates me. One of my closest friends told me last night that she doesn't hate me, she doesn't know what she feels, she's not in control, she's sick. It's so hard to see this as a sickness. What is there to see? She lies, she steals, she strangles, she attacks. Last night, one of the staff at the hospital was trying to get a huge matted know out of her hair, and Rachel turned around and made as if to pounce on her. I feel so terrible for that staff person who was trying out of the goodness of her heart to care for my daughter who refuses to care for herself. But what can I do? The last several times I tried to brush her hair, when she was living at home, her hands went around my neck. I eventually caught on and had it put in her IEP as part of her life skills learning that they would work on hair brushing at school, because I just couldn't do it anymore. A gifted child with hair brushing in her IEP. She could give so much to the world if she wasn't so filled with hatred. Why is she so filled with hatred when I have worked so hard to fill her up with love?

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Rachel and one of her therapists just pulled up for an in-home therapy session. I don't want them here. My life without her has become so peaceful. I'm not afraid to go to sleep at night when this child that I used to adore isn't here. My stomach is churning and it won't stop, knowing she's about to be back in my house.

Isn't that a terrible thing to be thinking, to be wanting, for my child to not be here??? All I ever wanted was to be a mother, and my dream came true when I was given this precious child, but the dream has become a nightmare whenever I think about or have to interact with her. Every now and then the child I adore appears briefly, and I get hugs and "I Love You Mommy"s, but it doesn't last, and it's usually because she wants something from me.

When she was little, I could hold her and rock her and sing to her for hours while she screamed and raged, and when she was done, she'd snuggle in my arms and tell me she loved me, and it was all worth it, because I thought it was getting her better, it seemed to be getting her better, I seemed to be healing this child born so full of rage.

And it did get better. Not perfect. Not even good, but a lot better, for a few years. And then it was like we were back at the beginning again, only now she was enormous and I couldn't hold her and protect myself from her anymore. She hurt me when she was little too, fake hugs that switched into headbutts, broken teeth, sprained and bruised everything from that violent little child. But now... now she's so big that my life is in danger when she rages.

Towards the end, when she last lived here, we had to keep her in her room when she was raging so she couldn't kill me as she often threatened and attempted to do. The last straw before the residential placement, she attempted to set an electrical fire to burn the house down, because, as she said, she wanted a new mother, and if I was dead she could get one.

That same week she calmly told me her detailed plans of how she was going to murder her father and baby brother while we all slept. I took her to the Emergency Room and told them this time she wasn't coming back home.

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Last night I told my daughter as gently as I could that her grandmother was dieing and we didn't know how long she had to live. She asked a lot of intellectual questions and then changed the subject nonchalantly. All I can think about is that her grandmother is dieing and she doesn't even care. I stayed on the phone with her for awhile, chitchat-ing with her, at her direction, and eventually I couldn't take it and told her good night.

A few hours later I went into a panic attack which led to the most severe asthma attack I've had in a long time, and I couldn't breathe and wanted to die. My husband was able to get me my meds and get me breathing and calmed down. All I can think about is that in 6 years my child will be let loose on an unsuspecting world and there's nothing I can do about it.

Her therapist says I can't let her know how I feel about her future, because if there is any hope of her getting better, I'll kill that hope with a self fulfilling prophesy. I'm following his lead in front of her, telling her over and over that I know she can get better, I know she can choose to be a good person, I know she can choose to change her life and go on the right path, and then when she's gone, I cry.

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She actually showed feelings yesterday about her grandmother dieing. She cried for 30 seconds, for someone other than herself. That's a good sign, right? Her grandmom asked to see her today. They haven't seen each other in over a year, because my husband's sister, who cares for her, is afraid of my Rachel. I don't blame her, I am too, but still it hurts that she's kept them apart for so long. The facility is bringing Rachel to see my husband's mother, and we'll be there too, and they'll stay, just in case. My stomach is exploding imagining everything that might go wrong today at this visit.

I want my child to be well enough to come home so very badly. My heart mom reminds me that she is who she is and there isn't anything I can do about it. My therapist wants me to love her from a distance, because she knows hgow much this is hurting me. I just want to curl up under my covers and hide from the world and pretend that this isn't what's happening to my child.

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One of our big problems with Rachel has been her insistence that the doctor and I have been lieing to her, that we made up these allergies to control her and keep her from eating what she wants. It doesn't matter that she steals lip gloss, hides it in her pillowcase, and wakes up with her face swollen. It doesn't matter that she eats an orange and can't stop itching everywhere. She's even gone so far as to accuse the lovely woman who's been her pediatrician for years of not being a doctor at all. So they finally agreed with me at the hospital to put her on "eyesight" restriction, meaning staff watches her like a hawk 24 hours a day.

The staff called last night and said that for several days Rachel has not stolen food that she's allergic to. In fact, she was offered such food twice by people and refused it stating her allergies as the reason. So they want to take her off of eyesight. I grilled Rachel and she insisted that she believes me now, that she understands. Is this another game? Another manipulation to get herself off of restriction? Or is she really making progress? Is there really hope for my child? The staff called last night and said that for several days Rachel has not stolen food that she's allergic to. In fact, she was offered such food twice by people and refused it stating her allergies as the reason. So they want to take her off of eyesight. I grilled Rachel and she insisted that she believes me now, that she understands. Is this another game? Another manipulation to get herself off of restriction? Or is she really making progress? Is there really hope for my child?

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It's another game, another manipulation. Why can't I just accept the fact that she's NOT going to get better???

She verbally attacked the staff for giving her toothpaste that wasn't her own. The facility had checked it out, the ingrediants, to ensure it was safe for her to have, and she still refused to use it. She said they were all liars, that her doctor and mother were liars, that the whole world was full of liars.

So she's turned the tables. Then she tried to convince me that I couldn't trust them because the kitchen staff keeps giving her meat, which she can't have. I told her first of all, she can say NO if meat is offerd to her, she is 12 after all. And second of all, I've received reports over and over of her stealing meat, so I'm believing the staff that the only time she gets meat is when she steals it. She screamed and hung up on me.

Sometimes I just want to die. I want to curl up in a ball and go to sleep and die. Because I can't help my child. She's drifting farther and farther away from me. She's at the best facility I could find. They actually care and are trying to help her. But she doesm't care and she doesn't want the help so it's completely ineffective. I don't know what else I can do.

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After the Jan 5th comment from S.B. below

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I can't tell you how much it means to me to log on here right now and read this space. Yesterday was awful. We were at the facility for a family therapy session and she was throwing furniture and making death threats and screaming all sorts of things I can't repeat even here. I finally just started crying and walked out, then sent them an email when we got home asking them to leave me alone for a few days because it was just too much for me to handle right now.

And Joey came home from kindergarten saying one of his paras told him he needed a baby brother. Like I have the time or energy to put one more thing on my plate????

And a dog apparently followed him home from school. My husband for some reason is now living on our front porch, so I had him put out food and water for the dog. He is a beautiful dog. And a lot easier to care for than a baby. Or Rachel. Is that sad? I'd rather have a strange dog living with me than my own kid.

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