It's very difficult not knowing what's happening with my adult child, where he is, what he's doing, whether he is safe or getting help or destroying someone else's life.
I have been in a deep depression the past several days, trying desparately to rid myself of this need to be his mother. He does not want me. He violently does not want me. It shreds my soul to know this. I don't know if I can actually ever let go.
"Hee-nay-nee" - I am here.
"Teeferret" is the balance of loving-kindness and the strength of boundaries. How do I have both compassion for him and compassion for myself? How do I decide where to place the boundaries in how much I allow his crazy into my life? Is there any way to be there for an adult child who so desparately wants me NOT in his life? Who honestly desparately wants me to be not in any life at all, not even my own.
From Rabbi Brielle's Psalms..."I will not say anything to myself in private that would tear down a friend if said in public.... Choose a path true to ones own self.... Reject self-hatred."
Reject self-hatred.
Reject self-hatred.
How is that possible? When I have so clearly failed as a mother. When my one true planned purpose has not been met with success. With anything but success.
"Emerging from the fire, I recalibrate my path."
I need to recalibrate my path away from trying to control what I have no way to even comprehend. The fire he stokes with every word and every breath never leaves my being. I am burning with tears that encourage his flames to burn higher and stronger throughout my soul.
"Own who you are in an honest and integrated way that expresses your beauty."
How can I find and express inner-beauty when all I can do with every drop of my everything is to try not to die?
"Teeferret" -the balance of loving-kindness and boundaries. He will neither accept nor give love. All that's left is boundaries, all he knows from me is boundaries, that is not what being a mother is all about, but it's all I get. It's not fair. I want so much more.
I remember when he was little. Yes, he screamed a lot. He slept very little. He tantrummed for hours at a time. But every now and then, here and there, occassionally, he would love me and he would allow me to love him. I miss that sometimes child who let me be a mother and not just a jailer. The child, who, expelled from yet another preschool or kindergarten is attending college classes with me, listening enraptured to the Chair of the Physics Department, illustrating his explanations of rocket mechanics with your markers, getting up on the auditorium stage, explaining with your pictures to the hundreds of freshmen exactly what they didn't seem able to understand.
"A life established seemingly in opposition to itself."
So much potential. Why couldn't I reach it in you? Why couldn't I help you reach it in yourself? Why did you run from me or at me, and so rarely into my arms?
Why can't you just let me love you as every mother wants to love her child? I just want to love my child.
Thursday, May 9, 2024
Thursday, May 2, 2024
Psalm 89
Another night learning from the Psalms. It seems the Rabbi leading the class is also a Psy D- makes much more sense as to how her words touch my soul. She writes her translations in such a way that we don't necessarily feel that we are wandering blindly through our nightmarish troubles.
It is faith crushing that God allows so much chaos and pain and destruction into our lives. But perhaps he has not left us there in the dark. Perhaps he is walking with us, guiding us through the depths of despair. Perhaps there is help, and perhaps there is hope. Not that the core problem will go away.
But that we don't have to go through it all alone.
It is faith crushing that God allows so much chaos and pain and destruction into our lives. But perhaps he has not left us there in the dark. Perhaps he is walking with us, guiding us through the depths of despair. Perhaps there is help, and perhaps there is hope. Not that the core problem will go away.
But that we don't have to go through it all alone.
Tuesday, April 30, 2024
Consequences of Closing an Open Adoption
I gave my son up for adoption and I want him back. His parents don't want him to stay in contact with me. Do I have the right to be in his life when he wants me to? (Question first answered by me on Quora)
When you give up a child for adoption, the adoptive parents become his legal parents forever. They get to choose who he is in contact with, who he phones and writes to, who he lives with, who he visits with, until he’s 18. At that point the child is an adult and can choose for himself who to have in his life.
That being said, it is almost always in the child’s best interest to have their birth family in their lives to some degree. My older child was adopted at birth in an open adoption. We had planned to have his birth family involved in his life regularly for all of his years. Sadly, it didn’t work out that way.
His birth mother was struggling with mental health issues and not taking meds. She was making wild accusations against me which was seriously messing with my self-esteem. I was having a hard enough time as it was trying to parent a child who never slept, constantly screamed, and kept getting expelled from preschools.
In my state of chronic sleep deprivation and absolute frustration combined with defensiveness from being constantly attacked, I made a decision that permanently, negatively, effected our lives. I told his birth mother that she had to start going to therapy and get back on her meds before she had contact with our child again.
She reacted by getting even more crazy with her accusations. I can see now how devastating it must have been for her to be told she was too unwell to be allowed contact with the child she’d entrusted to my care. I should have found a better way to handle the situation. I have no clue what it is I should have done, but locking her out of our lives was most definitely the wrong answer. I didn’t see that, though, until he was completely gone from my life.
When he was 15, my son ran away from home, got on a bus and headed out of state to be with her, his birth mom. It did not go well for them. She did not have the skills to handle such a seriously psychiatrically unstable young man. Of course, it must be said, neither did I.
Looking back, I wish I’d been more accepting of his birth mother. Maybe, together, we could have found a way to better parent this very difficult child. I messed up big time in throwing her to the curb, and it’s something I can never take back. I can only hope that someday they can both forgive me for this awful mistake.
When you give up a child for adoption, the adoptive parents become his legal parents forever. They get to choose who he is in contact with, who he phones and writes to, who he lives with, who he visits with, until he’s 18. At that point the child is an adult and can choose for himself who to have in his life.
That being said, it is almost always in the child’s best interest to have their birth family in their lives to some degree. My older child was adopted at birth in an open adoption. We had planned to have his birth family involved in his life regularly for all of his years. Sadly, it didn’t work out that way.
His birth mother was struggling with mental health issues and not taking meds. She was making wild accusations against me which was seriously messing with my self-esteem. I was having a hard enough time as it was trying to parent a child who never slept, constantly screamed, and kept getting expelled from preschools.
In my state of chronic sleep deprivation and absolute frustration combined with defensiveness from being constantly attacked, I made a decision that permanently, negatively, effected our lives. I told his birth mother that she had to start going to therapy and get back on her meds before she had contact with our child again.
She reacted by getting even more crazy with her accusations. I can see now how devastating it must have been for her to be told she was too unwell to be allowed contact with the child she’d entrusted to my care. I should have found a better way to handle the situation. I have no clue what it is I should have done, but locking her out of our lives was most definitely the wrong answer. I didn’t see that, though, until he was completely gone from my life.
When he was 15, my son ran away from home, got on a bus and headed out of state to be with her, his birth mom. It did not go well for them. She did not have the skills to handle such a seriously psychiatrically unstable young man. Of course, it must be said, neither did I.
Looking back, I wish I’d been more accepting of his birth mother. Maybe, together, we could have found a way to better parent this very difficult child. I messed up big time in throwing her to the curb, and it’s something I can never take back. I can only hope that someday they can both forgive me for this awful mistake.
Thursday, April 25, 2024
Psalm 31
I took a class tonight, learning about Psalm 31. It was not at all what I expected. As I listened to the words, and the translations, and the teaching and the explanations, I felt a little bit of the heaviness in my heart start to lift away. I made a commitment tonight to try to love and forgive myself. I did everything I could possibly do and I did it all with every bit of love and caring that I had inside of me. I deserve love and forgiveness. I deserve to stop beating myself up for not being good enough.
"I seek refuge in You, Shekhinah; may I never be disappointed; as You are righteous, rescue me. Incline Your ear to me; be quick to save me; be a rock, a stronghold for me, a citadel, for my deliverance. For You are my rock and my fortress; You lead me and guide me as befits Your name. You free me from the net laid for me, for You are my stronghold. Into Your hand I entrust my spirit; You redeem me, Shekhinah...
"...I trust in Shekhinah. Let me exult and rejoice in Your faithfulness when You notice my affliction, are mindful of my deep distress, and do not hand me over to my enemy, but grant me relief. Have mercy on me, O Shekhinah, for I am in distress; my eyes are wasted by vexation, my substance and body too. My life is spent in sorrow, my years in groaning; my strength fails because of my iniquity, my limbs waste away.
"Show favor to Your servant; as You are faithful, deliver me. O LORD, let me not be disappointed when I call You; ... How abundant is the good that You have in store ... for those who take refuge in You. You grant them the protection of Your presence... You shelter them in Your pavilion... Blessed is Shekhinah, for you have been wondrously faithful to me, a veritable bastion. Alarmed, I had thought, “I am thrust out of Your sight”; yet You listened to my plea for mercy when I cried out to You. So love Shekhinah, all you faithful; Shekhinah guards the loyal, and more than requites him who acts arrogantly. Be strong and of good courage, all you who wait for Shekhinah."'
"I seek refuge in You, Shekhinah; may I never be disappointed; as You are righteous, rescue me. Incline Your ear to me; be quick to save me; be a rock, a stronghold for me, a citadel, for my deliverance. For You are my rock and my fortress; You lead me and guide me as befits Your name. You free me from the net laid for me, for You are my stronghold. Into Your hand I entrust my spirit; You redeem me, Shekhinah...
"...I trust in Shekhinah. Let me exult and rejoice in Your faithfulness when You notice my affliction, are mindful of my deep distress, and do not hand me over to my enemy, but grant me relief. Have mercy on me, O Shekhinah, for I am in distress; my eyes are wasted by vexation, my substance and body too. My life is spent in sorrow, my years in groaning; my strength fails because of my iniquity, my limbs waste away.
"Show favor to Your servant; as You are faithful, deliver me. O LORD, let me not be disappointed when I call You; ... How abundant is the good that You have in store ... for those who take refuge in You. You grant them the protection of Your presence... You shelter them in Your pavilion... Blessed is Shekhinah, for you have been wondrously faithful to me, a veritable bastion. Alarmed, I had thought, “I am thrust out of Your sight”; yet You listened to my plea for mercy when I cried out to You. So love Shekhinah, all you faithful; Shekhinah guards the loyal, and more than requites him who acts arrogantly. Be strong and of good courage, all you who wait for Shekhinah."'
Sunday, April 21, 2024
July 12, 2014 Sarah to Michael
On Saturday, July 12, 2014 9:47 PM, Sarah wrote:
Dear Michael,
I have already made it clear to you that I am sorry I was not as good a mother as I should have been. And I cannot apologize to you for things I have not done. Sadly, sweetheart, you were the one who has been delusional, not me, hon. You have been diagnosed by many many psychiatrists and psychologists as having various psychotic disorders. They have almost all said that there was hope for you to get better, but only if you made the choice to get the help offered. I tried over and over to get you that help. You promised me over and over that you would accept that help, but you continue to run away from it.
Joey was taken from me for a few weeks this summer because I did not protect him from his father and from you. The judge gave him back to me as soon as he heard the case. I promised to get help to be able to be more protective of my children, and I have gotten that help. I have been in an intensive therapy program that has taught me to be more protective of Joey and of myself. It has also taught me to understand you and the dynamics between the two of us a lot better.
You needed help from a very young age that I was not yet able to give you. I tried everything I could think of but it wasn't enough. I understand that you cannot see what went on between us objectively. If you want to try to talk it through, I would be happy to do so, so long as you can stay calm and respectful. One of the many promises you have made to me but not yet kept, was that we could be in family therapy. I am still willing to do this.
I have had to make a lot of difficult decisions about my responsibilities towards you. One of the most difficult of these decisions was the choice to allow you to stay with your birth mother, in her home, and not in an inpatient facility back here. I made this choice because I'm hoping as an almost-adult you'll make the choice to get yourself the help you need. I cannot control your choices, your feelings, or your behaviors. I can only control my reactions to them.
I will always love you, Michael. I hope you can hear this letter with the love and caring that are meant to be its intent.
Love always,
Mom
Dear Michael,
I have already made it clear to you that I am sorry I was not as good a mother as I should have been. And I cannot apologize to you for things I have not done. Sadly, sweetheart, you were the one who has been delusional, not me, hon. You have been diagnosed by many many psychiatrists and psychologists as having various psychotic disorders. They have almost all said that there was hope for you to get better, but only if you made the choice to get the help offered. I tried over and over to get you that help. You promised me over and over that you would accept that help, but you continue to run away from it.
Joey was taken from me for a few weeks this summer because I did not protect him from his father and from you. The judge gave him back to me as soon as he heard the case. I promised to get help to be able to be more protective of my children, and I have gotten that help. I have been in an intensive therapy program that has taught me to be more protective of Joey and of myself. It has also taught me to understand you and the dynamics between the two of us a lot better.
You needed help from a very young age that I was not yet able to give you. I tried everything I could think of but it wasn't enough. I understand that you cannot see what went on between us objectively. If you want to try to talk it through, I would be happy to do so, so long as you can stay calm and respectful. One of the many promises you have made to me but not yet kept, was that we could be in family therapy. I am still willing to do this.
I have had to make a lot of difficult decisions about my responsibilities towards you. One of the most difficult of these decisions was the choice to allow you to stay with your birth mother, in her home, and not in an inpatient facility back here. I made this choice because I'm hoping as an almost-adult you'll make the choice to get yourself the help you need. I cannot control your choices, your feelings, or your behaviors. I can only control my reactions to them.
I will always love you, Michael. I hope you can hear this letter with the love and caring that are meant to be its intent.
Love always,
Mom
Friday, April 19, 2024
April 19, 2024 Update, 15 years later
My Rachel goes by Michael now. The gender story is for another day. Michael made it out of the facility he was living in when last I wrote and made it up to Boston to live with his birthmother. She tried. She really did. He wanted money so he shot up a store, got one guy in the back. He went to jail, then longterm in an adult psychiatric lockdown, then halfway house after halfway house, getting kicked out of one after another. Then hotel after hotel, getting kicked out of one after another. He's still refusing to take meds. I don't have any idea how to help him. At this point I just have to try to keep myself safe.
Saturday, August 14, 2010
The system doesn't work
My Rachel tried to stab someone to death last night. The shift coordinator called to let me know. No big deal because no one was actually physically harmed, right? They still want to discharge her and don't understand why I won't bring her home.
We had a big, very loud meeting on Wednesday. They say she's made so much progress. And she definitely has. She no loinger tries to strangle people when they try to brush her hair. She's more likely to calmly state when she's thinking and feeling, even though those thoughts and feelings are her conviction that she can create false documents to enable her to run away to Japan and start a new life on her own, or that she'd be happy to come back home as long as I follow her rules, and allow her to run her and our lives as she sees fit, because she knows better than we do.
The therapists, administration, and insurance company all agree that if I won't bring her home, she is ready to be moved into a therapeutic foster home- a family trained to care for kids with behavioral problems. I fought with them until they started screaming at me that I wasn't in this for Natalie's best interests but because of my own issues, that I was obviously not in my right mind nad needed more intensive therapy than what I was getting. At that point I left the meeting, because I ust couldn't take it any more.
My Rachel tried to kill somebody tonight. She was angry at him, so she grabbed a pair of scissors and tried to stab him to death. But our mental health system insists she's ready for a step-down in care. It all comes down to money, doesn't it? They don't want to pay the exhorbitant price of the care this child needs. So they're going to let her loose on society, my homicidal delusional 12 year old. And while I hope with all my heart that I'm wrong, someday, I truly believe, she'll be a killer or she'll be dead.
Sarah
We had a big, very loud meeting on Wednesday. They say she's made so much progress. And she definitely has. She no loinger tries to strangle people when they try to brush her hair. She's more likely to calmly state when she's thinking and feeling, even though those thoughts and feelings are her conviction that she can create false documents to enable her to run away to Japan and start a new life on her own, or that she'd be happy to come back home as long as I follow her rules, and allow her to run her and our lives as she sees fit, because she knows better than we do.
The therapists, administration, and insurance company all agree that if I won't bring her home, she is ready to be moved into a therapeutic foster home- a family trained to care for kids with behavioral problems. I fought with them until they started screaming at me that I wasn't in this for Natalie's best interests but because of my own issues, that I was obviously not in my right mind nad needed more intensive therapy than what I was getting. At that point I left the meeting, because I ust couldn't take it any more.
My Rachel tried to kill somebody tonight. She was angry at him, so she grabbed a pair of scissors and tried to stab him to death. But our mental health system insists she's ready for a step-down in care. It all comes down to money, doesn't it? They don't want to pay the exhorbitant price of the care this child needs. So they're going to let her loose on society, my homicidal delusional 12 year old. And while I hope with all my heart that I'm wrong, someday, I truly believe, she'll be a killer or she'll be dead.
Sarah
Saturday, July 17, 2010
Support for Caregivers - Me; and Return to RTF
Dear SB and Cousin R,
I cannot tell you wht it means to me to have you in my corner. It means everything to me.
When a parent has a child like this, their friends drift away. When someone asks me how I am, I tell them, and who wants to hear about such things such as what Rachel and the mental health system are putting us through?
I NEED SUPPORT. Hearing your words lets me know SOMEONE is out there listening to me, boosting me, supporting me, and I need that more than anything.
I don't think most people understand that caregivers of these children need a shoulder to cry on, an ear to just LISTEN to. If you have no solutions or words of wisdom, it's okay, just reflect back our (my) feelings, and let us (me) know you're there, holding us (me) up.
I think that's one of the most difficult parts of this is feeling abandoned by so much of my community.
The two of you, in your comments, gave me so much strength, I've been able to stand up for myself and Rachel even more, and to spend more quality time with Joey, and demand more quality time with my husband Sam.
Joey has been doing well enough emotionally, that we're being downgraded from Mobile Therapy to Outpatient therapy, which worries me. I mean, I'm thrilled that Joey's doing so well, but his Mobile Therapist, who comes to our home for 2-3 hours per week, and supports Joey, and me for Joey, will no longer be there for us, the state is not allowing it. Now we'll have to go into a cold office and start all over with some new for one hour per week.
But how do we fight the system? I filed an appeal, but the system is set up so that the evaluating psychiatrist, who had never even met Joey, was the same psychiatrist to review the appeal! How is that objective??
So even less support available to us.
We are very blessed to have a congregation that does everything they can for us, but even a lot of the folks there have pulled away from us as Rachel has gotten less well.
Anyway, the less restrictive hospital agreed after much arguing to meet our demands, and they are slowly trying to wrap their heads around the fact that even though they don't agree ith what we, the parents, want, they have to at least try to comply with it. They're not complying fully, but at least we've got a start. There'a an outside social worker conference calling with our family therapy sessions, to guide them onn how to act more appropriately with us. I.e., we're no longer being blamed for having caused these problems in our child. Instead we're focusing on how to make our relationship better with her now, which has not yet been done in over two years.
Also, the in depth testing is being done, finally, which should show them once and for all that they are dealing with a child who has a deep seated mental illness, and not simply behavioral issues from bad parenting. Why is the Mother always blamed for everything???? The testers have already said off the record that see signs of psyhotic tendencies and fetal alcohol spectrum disorder. Hey, Mommy knows what she's talking about! Imagine that.
I'm feeling so much more at peace now. Like finally someone's listening to me. I don't know if my child will ever return home, but at least a step os being taken to determine wht we're dealing with, so they can adjust the treatment goals and medications accordingly.
Sarah
I cannot tell you wht it means to me to have you in my corner. It means everything to me.
When a parent has a child like this, their friends drift away. When someone asks me how I am, I tell them, and who wants to hear about such things such as what Rachel and the mental health system are putting us through?
I NEED SUPPORT. Hearing your words lets me know SOMEONE is out there listening to me, boosting me, supporting me, and I need that more than anything.
I don't think most people understand that caregivers of these children need a shoulder to cry on, an ear to just LISTEN to. If you have no solutions or words of wisdom, it's okay, just reflect back our (my) feelings, and let us (me) know you're there, holding us (me) up.
I think that's one of the most difficult parts of this is feeling abandoned by so much of my community.
The two of you, in your comments, gave me so much strength, I've been able to stand up for myself and Rachel even more, and to spend more quality time with Joey, and demand more quality time with my husband Sam.
Joey has been doing well enough emotionally, that we're being downgraded from Mobile Therapy to Outpatient therapy, which worries me. I mean, I'm thrilled that Joey's doing so well, but his Mobile Therapist, who comes to our home for 2-3 hours per week, and supports Joey, and me for Joey, will no longer be there for us, the state is not allowing it. Now we'll have to go into a cold office and start all over with some new for one hour per week.
But how do we fight the system? I filed an appeal, but the system is set up so that the evaluating psychiatrist, who had never even met Joey, was the same psychiatrist to review the appeal! How is that objective??
So even less support available to us.
We are very blessed to have a congregation that does everything they can for us, but even a lot of the folks there have pulled away from us as Rachel has gotten less well.
Anyway, the less restrictive hospital agreed after much arguing to meet our demands, and they are slowly trying to wrap their heads around the fact that even though they don't agree ith what we, the parents, want, they have to at least try to comply with it. They're not complying fully, but at least we've got a start. There'a an outside social worker conference calling with our family therapy sessions, to guide them onn how to act more appropriately with us. I.e., we're no longer being blamed for having caused these problems in our child. Instead we're focusing on how to make our relationship better with her now, which has not yet been done in over two years.
Also, the in depth testing is being done, finally, which should show them once and for all that they are dealing with a child who has a deep seated mental illness, and not simply behavioral issues from bad parenting. Why is the Mother always blamed for everything???? The testers have already said off the record that see signs of psyhotic tendencies and fetal alcohol spectrum disorder. Hey, Mommy knows what she's talking about! Imagine that.
I'm feeling so much more at peace now. Like finally someone's listening to me. I don't know if my child will ever return home, but at least a step os being taken to determine wht we're dealing with, so they can adjust the treatment goals and medications accordingly.
Sarah
Wednesday, July 7, 2010
Family Meeting, yeah right
Me, my ex, one therapist from her regular psych hospital, her case manager, a social worker from the lock down facilty, and Rachel all met last night for a family meeting. Gads, was it a disaster.
It started out with Rachel refusing to acknowlege my existence, and then reaching out for the emergency button to call a code, and laughing maniacally. The lock down social worker didn't see her do it, so I had to tell her so she could call it off. Then Rachel took off from the conference room and went running through the hallways, laughing hysterically, with the staff trying to chase her down.
We talked for a while without her while tried to calm her. The lock down said they didn't see any reason she had to stay there any longer, because she hadn't shown any aggressive or self-abusive tendencies. She refused to shower, brush her hair, change her clothes, or particopate in anything they asked her to do, and she continued to eata foods she was allergic to, and making herself throw up, but that was no big deal....
So they wanted to discharge her tomorrow... which is now today. I was furious. The regular hospital said they were fine with that, and I said I was not. I had been asking the regular hospital to do a full-scale psychiatric evaluation on Rachel since she had been admitted there and it STILL had not been done, and I was not going to okay her release to the regular hospital until I had it in writing that they had arranged such an eval for her.
The lock down social worker said to me if I was not prepared to allow them to release her to the psych hospital, was I prepared to take her home, and I went balistic.
These places terrorize parents, lie to them about their rights and the laws, and I let them have it. The fourth time she was in lock down, they told me if I didn't take her home with me they'd call children's services and file charges against me for child abandonment and then I could lose Joey as well. I took her home. The fifth time she was in lock down, was because she had attempted to burn the house down with me in it because she "wanted a new mother" and if I was dead she could get one. And she had outlined to me calmly, in detail, her plans to murder Joey and my husband during the night. I was NOT taking her home, and I had called children's services, and they told me if I DID take her home that would be putting Joey in jeopardy, and they could take him, so when they made the threat again, I told them tough s$%^. She stayed there for two months until they found a permanenent placement.
So when this lady started in on me again with the same garbage, I told her she should go perform a physiologically impossible act of reproduction on herself, and that she was going to keep Rachel until my demands for her appropriate care at her permanent institution were met. They were all a little taken aback, but there wasn't exactly anything they could do when faced by a parent who actually knew her legal rights, which they did not often encounter.
I also started venting about how the permanent place refused to acknowledge that Rachel could possibly have an organic mental illness, that this wasn't just psychological and behavioral, that she needed stronger medication, and intervention for mental illness, not just intervention for an emotional disturbance. The first hos[ital she had been in, for the first year, had medicated her heavily and left her in front of a videogames screen 24/7. I moved her vecause I wanted her getting therapy too. I had no idea that therapy would be all they would be giving her.
I told them that while they were probably an excellent program for children with merelty behavioral and emotional needs, that was NOT Rachel's only set of issues. She was bprn to severely mentally ill drug and alcohol using teenagers, with the cord around her neck and meconium on her face, had suffered lead poisoning from eating paint, and head injuries from pounding her head against walls. She had absolutely no remorse, and never had.
I told them they may be licensed psychologists, but they were totally ignorant of fetal alcohol spectrum disorder, prenatal drug exposure, early onset schizophrenia, schizoaffective disorder, bipolar disorder, and sociopathy, and they had no right to tell me my child did NOT have any of these problems when they were not knowlegable enough to even know what these issues looked like let alone diagnose or treat them. My ex backed me up on this too, which really surprised me.
Rachel was eventually coaxed back into the room, and she ranted that she was not returning to her permanent placement because they always believed the adults before the children, and never let her do what she wanted. She wanted to go back to her first placement, where she would be left alone. Her rant lasted as long as mine.
It ended with our outside-agency case manager telling me she was going to try to find a place that could do a full-scale psychiatric eval on Rachel. Fortunately my husband had taken off of work, and he and Joey had driven me so I could hide in a novel during the whole ride back home.
Sarah
It started out with Rachel refusing to acknowlege my existence, and then reaching out for the emergency button to call a code, and laughing maniacally. The lock down social worker didn't see her do it, so I had to tell her so she could call it off. Then Rachel took off from the conference room and went running through the hallways, laughing hysterically, with the staff trying to chase her down.
We talked for a while without her while tried to calm her. The lock down said they didn't see any reason she had to stay there any longer, because she hadn't shown any aggressive or self-abusive tendencies. She refused to shower, brush her hair, change her clothes, or particopate in anything they asked her to do, and she continued to eata foods she was allergic to, and making herself throw up, but that was no big deal....
So they wanted to discharge her tomorrow... which is now today. I was furious. The regular hospital said they were fine with that, and I said I was not. I had been asking the regular hospital to do a full-scale psychiatric evaluation on Rachel since she had been admitted there and it STILL had not been done, and I was not going to okay her release to the regular hospital until I had it in writing that they had arranged such an eval for her.
The lock down social worker said to me if I was not prepared to allow them to release her to the psych hospital, was I prepared to take her home, and I went balistic.
These places terrorize parents, lie to them about their rights and the laws, and I let them have it. The fourth time she was in lock down, they told me if I didn't take her home with me they'd call children's services and file charges against me for child abandonment and then I could lose Joey as well. I took her home. The fifth time she was in lock down, was because she had attempted to burn the house down with me in it because she "wanted a new mother" and if I was dead she could get one. And she had outlined to me calmly, in detail, her plans to murder Joey and my husband during the night. I was NOT taking her home, and I had called children's services, and they told me if I DID take her home that would be putting Joey in jeopardy, and they could take him, so when they made the threat again, I told them tough s$%^. She stayed there for two months until they found a permanenent placement.
So when this lady started in on me again with the same garbage, I told her she should go perform a physiologically impossible act of reproduction on herself, and that she was going to keep Rachel until my demands for her appropriate care at her permanent institution were met. They were all a little taken aback, but there wasn't exactly anything they could do when faced by a parent who actually knew her legal rights, which they did not often encounter.
I also started venting about how the permanent place refused to acknowledge that Rachel could possibly have an organic mental illness, that this wasn't just psychological and behavioral, that she needed stronger medication, and intervention for mental illness, not just intervention for an emotional disturbance. The first hos[ital she had been in, for the first year, had medicated her heavily and left her in front of a videogames screen 24/7. I moved her vecause I wanted her getting therapy too. I had no idea that therapy would be all they would be giving her.
I told them that while they were probably an excellent program for children with merelty behavioral and emotional needs, that was NOT Rachel's only set of issues. She was bprn to severely mentally ill drug and alcohol using teenagers, with the cord around her neck and meconium on her face, had suffered lead poisoning from eating paint, and head injuries from pounding her head against walls. She had absolutely no remorse, and never had.
I told them they may be licensed psychologists, but they were totally ignorant of fetal alcohol spectrum disorder, prenatal drug exposure, early onset schizophrenia, schizoaffective disorder, bipolar disorder, and sociopathy, and they had no right to tell me my child did NOT have any of these problems when they were not knowlegable enough to even know what these issues looked like let alone diagnose or treat them. My ex backed me up on this too, which really surprised me.
Rachel was eventually coaxed back into the room, and she ranted that she was not returning to her permanent placement because they always believed the adults before the children, and never let her do what she wanted. She wanted to go back to her first placement, where she would be left alone. Her rant lasted as long as mine.
It ended with our outside-agency case manager telling me she was going to try to find a place that could do a full-scale psychiatric eval on Rachel. Fortunately my husband had taken off of work, and he and Joey had driven me so I could hide in a novel during the whole ride back home.
Sarah
Friday, July 2, 2010
Back history
The one post in 2009, followed by 8 comments, is actually multiple posts. I was commenting on my own post instead of starting a new post, because I didn't know blog etiquette yet. Just so you know.
She's in lock-down
Rachel attacked her two lead therapists so violently that they had to call 911. I met them at the emergency room where it took 12 people to restrain her and get her into a 4-point restraint system, and they had to shoot her full of adult-level anti-psychotic meds. I stayed with her at the emergency room and after the meds turned the four hours of raging into crying hysteria - with her still physically restrained to the bed, I sang prayers to her until she finally fell asleep. She was eventually transferred to a locked psychiatric facility. They don't have them in our state, so she's been moved out of state temporarily. The doc there told me they're putting her back on anti-psychotics, which the regular psych hospital had taken her off of. I said Thank God. I slept all day. Still need more, but Joey's home from camp any minute.
Monday, June 21, 2010
Mortified, but not Surprised
I have not visited with Rachel since the incident of the last post. I have tried to call her to tell her I love her, and she has responded with comments such as if I dare to send her case manager there to talk with her, she is going to sneak into the kitchen, steal a big sharp knife and slit her throat. Lovely, eh?
We had a team meeting this past Wednesday, where the therapists in charge were saying that she'd been doing SO much better for an entire week, that they wanted to make a discharge plan, with the anticipated date of discharge of September 2nd. All three of us parents cancelled everything we were doing for the day, work, doctors, etc, and brought as many support people as we could to be there for us to make it clear that this child was under NO circumstances coming to either of our homes at any time in the near future.
They once again threatened foster care, and we all said if that was what had to happen, then they better take into account seriously that she could "accidentally" actually kill herself, if she takes her threats a step farther- they don't actually believe she wants to kill herself. And that she may "accidentally" get herself picked up on the streets by the wrong person, as she continues to push farther and farther her running away, and is eventually going to get off the grounds of the hospital, or if in a foster home, just walking out the door would put her in danger, because she has NO sense of vulnerability. She still insists she has super powers and that no one can hurt her.
So to last night... We got a call from the hospital that she had sexually and physically assaulted multiple staff members. So she's upped the anty. She's gone from me, to the staff, and what's the next step... obviously the children. I told them they were absolutely not to leave her alone for a second, she was to have someone on top of her at any moment because she was DANGEROUS. I don't think thety get it. Well, I'd say the staff members who were assaulted last night obviously get it now.
I called the social worker in charge of transitioning her from placement to placement, working with Medicaid and the various institutions and told her what had happened, and that she had to take this into account and please support me in denying her transfer to a foster home, as that would seriously endanger any children she was to come into contact with. She agreed with me absolutely and said she'd be calling the hospital today.
I would seriously appreciate any comments from anyone out there who might be following the story of my child. I could use all the support I can get.
Thank you very much.
Sarah
We had a team meeting this past Wednesday, where the therapists in charge were saying that she'd been doing SO much better for an entire week, that they wanted to make a discharge plan, with the anticipated date of discharge of September 2nd. All three of us parents cancelled everything we were doing for the day, work, doctors, etc, and brought as many support people as we could to be there for us to make it clear that this child was under NO circumstances coming to either of our homes at any time in the near future.
They once again threatened foster care, and we all said if that was what had to happen, then they better take into account seriously that she could "accidentally" actually kill herself, if she takes her threats a step farther- they don't actually believe she wants to kill herself. And that she may "accidentally" get herself picked up on the streets by the wrong person, as she continues to push farther and farther her running away, and is eventually going to get off the grounds of the hospital, or if in a foster home, just walking out the door would put her in danger, because she has NO sense of vulnerability. She still insists she has super powers and that no one can hurt her.
So to last night... We got a call from the hospital that she had sexually and physically assaulted multiple staff members. So she's upped the anty. She's gone from me, to the staff, and what's the next step... obviously the children. I told them they were absolutely not to leave her alone for a second, she was to have someone on top of her at any moment because she was DANGEROUS. I don't think thety get it. Well, I'd say the staff members who were assaulted last night obviously get it now.
I called the social worker in charge of transitioning her from placement to placement, working with Medicaid and the various institutions and told her what had happened, and that she had to take this into account and please support me in denying her transfer to a foster home, as that would seriously endanger any children she was to come into contact with. She agreed with me absolutely and said she'd be calling the hospital today.
I would seriously appreciate any comments from anyone out there who might be following the story of my child. I could use all the support I can get.
Thank you very much.
Sarah
Thursday, June 3, 2010
Losing Hope
A few weeks ago, I took a day off from my hectic life to spend it with Rachel. In their not so infinite wisdom, the staff all disappeared. At first the visit was going well, typical Asperger's acting out, nothing I couldn't handle.
But then she sexually molested me. I elbowed her off of me, and kept telling her to quit, but she did it repeatedly, and I finally realized, looking into her maniacal smile and eyes that she was getting a kick out of this.
I walked out of the visiting room, told her to stay where she was, and demanded that the receptionist find staff immediately, that it was an emergency with Rachel.
To their credit, someone ran over within minutes, asked me what was wrong, I told them, and they went and tried to talk it through with her. She immediately started upending furniture, screaming, it was horrible. We had an emergency session with my ex called in as well to deal with this and nothing good came of the meeting.
When it was over, I told them I didn't want her at my home for a visit that weekend, and I wouldn't be there to visit her that week. And their response was that I had to not only continue visiting, but continue UNsupervised visiting in order to get her home. I told them thety had to be kidding. That if and when I felt comfortable getting near her again, it was going to be with maximum supervision, and there was no way I was going to be a part of a plan to bring her home until I was assured that this and all other violent, destructive, and sexually exploitive behaviors had STOPPED.
They threatened to put her in foster care if I wouldn't take her home soon. My ex and I told them that we and my current husband had already discussed that, and that if they did not want to keep her, and could not find another placement willing to take her, then that was what we were going to have to do. Neither of us could take her as she is.
They were mortified by us, and we by them.
On top of everything else, I got pregnant by accident last month and miscarried this week.
But then she sexually molested me. I elbowed her off of me, and kept telling her to quit, but she did it repeatedly, and I finally realized, looking into her maniacal smile and eyes that she was getting a kick out of this.
I walked out of the visiting room, told her to stay where she was, and demanded that the receptionist find staff immediately, that it was an emergency with Rachel.
To their credit, someone ran over within minutes, asked me what was wrong, I told them, and they went and tried to talk it through with her. She immediately started upending furniture, screaming, it was horrible. We had an emergency session with my ex called in as well to deal with this and nothing good came of the meeting.
When it was over, I told them I didn't want her at my home for a visit that weekend, and I wouldn't be there to visit her that week. And their response was that I had to not only continue visiting, but continue UNsupervised visiting in order to get her home. I told them thety had to be kidding. That if and when I felt comfortable getting near her again, it was going to be with maximum supervision, and there was no way I was going to be a part of a plan to bring her home until I was assured that this and all other violent, destructive, and sexually exploitive behaviors had STOPPED.
They threatened to put her in foster care if I wouldn't take her home soon. My ex and I told them that we and my current husband had already discussed that, and that if they did not want to keep her, and could not find another placement willing to take her, then that was what we were going to have to do. Neither of us could take her as she is.
They were mortified by us, and we by them.
On top of everything else, I got pregnant by accident last month and miscarried this week.
Monday, April 5, 2010
Loving a Monster
I love a monster.
I want her to be well enough to come home. I want to throw my whole everything into loving her and caring for her and into making her be well again. But I just don't think it's going to happen.
Her grandmother finally died. She attended a few minutes of the funeral, and was calm and collected, and appropriate, and everyone was very impressed, and Aunt Kelly, who marrried a Catholic, invited us to bring her to Easter dinner at her house this year.
Rachel continued to do better and better. I was getting so hopeful. She was sharing her feelings and improving her behaviors, and had two (hospital-staff-supervised) home visits in a row that went beautifully, and I was starting to think maybe there was a chance again, maybe someday she could come home.
And then two days before the Easter visit she threatened to murder one of the hospital staff. And she smacked another child in the arm and across the face. And she was physically sexually explicit with a staff member. And etc, and etc.
We didn't bring her.
I love her so desperately, my 12 year old child, and I can't have her. My husband says to focus on my Joey, my miracle, and the rest of the good things in our life. I want to. I dearly want to. I just want her so dearly to be well enough to be home.
I want her to be well enough to come home. I want to throw my whole everything into loving her and caring for her and into making her be well again. But I just don't think it's going to happen.
Her grandmother finally died. She attended a few minutes of the funeral, and was calm and collected, and appropriate, and everyone was very impressed, and Aunt Kelly, who marrried a Catholic, invited us to bring her to Easter dinner at her house this year.
Rachel continued to do better and better. I was getting so hopeful. She was sharing her feelings and improving her behaviors, and had two (hospital-staff-supervised) home visits in a row that went beautifully, and I was starting to think maybe there was a chance again, maybe someday she could come home.
And then two days before the Easter visit she threatened to murder one of the hospital staff. And she smacked another child in the arm and across the face. And she was physically sexually explicit with a staff member. And etc, and etc.
We didn't bring her.
I love her so desperately, my 12 year old child, and I can't have her. My husband says to focus on my Joey, my miracle, and the rest of the good things in our life. I want to. I dearly want to. I just want her so dearly to be well enough to be home.
Monday, December 21, 2009
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.
*************************
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?
************************
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.
*********************************************
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.
***************************
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.
*******************************
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?
************************************
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.
********************************
After the Jan 5th comment from S.B. below
*******************************
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.
*************************************
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.
*************************
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?
************************
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.
*********************************************
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.
***************************
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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