Excuse the interruption to your daily scheduled post “Journey to Positivity: Day 7” This post is sponsored by “UNCLE!” Please stay tuned for our newest series entitled “Fuck this shit, I’m out!” and “The Rock and the Hard Place”. From bad to good to great and to awful. That’s the rollercoaster of life. It’s hoping and praying that you can withstand the whiplash and battle through the motion sickness and just learn to enjoy the ride. I’m so tired of hearing “You’re so strong!” “You’re so brave!” “You’re doing everything you can!” and all the other lies and bullshit people spew on you when you are struggling and they don’t know what to say or how to relate. “Keep Going, it can only go up from here!” That’s a damn lie! It can get worse and it has and there is no amount of meditation, motivational speaking, positivity preaching, scripting shit that’s going to make me see anything other than the negatives today. I’m there. I’m in the dark place. The electricity is out and they aren’t coming to turn it back on tonight. All I have is a Bic lighter that burns my fingers when I try have any light at all. I’m at the bottom. I’m in the trench waving my white flag begging for help and realizing that I’m THE HELP!
So let’s jump right into the nitty gritty and see what tidbits of inspiration we can find for the mom who is falling apart while trying to hold it all together. Shall we? I think we shall. I woke up late after staying up most of the night worried about 2. If you’ve read previous posts you know 2 struggles with mental illness. She has what she says is every mental disorder with a ‘D’ that is listed in the ICD-10-CM. That’s obviously a stretch. I don’t have the patience tonight to spell it out she has DMDD, MDD, GAD, SAD, ADHD, ODD, and C-PTSD. They have long names but I’m just not there right now mentally myself to give you the long versions. Google it. 2 self harms by cutting herself with any sharp she can get her hands on. It’s been a battle. We have been actively in therapy (outpatient) since 2020. She’s had two inpatient stays in the past year. Partial hospitalization is where we have been the past month. This consists of weekdays from 8:30-3:30. She also struggles with suicidal ideation, thankfully with no attempts but she does make plans. She has suicide notes written and locked away. It is an active struggle for her to be happy and to regulate emotions or her mood. We all struggle with mental illness, all 4 of us, myself included. Today, I received a call at work. I stepped away to take it. It was 2’s treatment facility asking about last night. (See previous post) I explained my version of events. I noted her positive attempts to correct and redirect and that we went to bed on a much better note after a lengthy discussion. They told me that the doctor and therapist and the supervisor would be reaching out to me. Yay, another day filled with a million interruptions, but I was thankful to be updated on what was going on. A little later her therapist reached out and explained that 2 had expressed suicidal thoughts with a plan and was having a large number of self harm urges. They were going to formulate a plan and they would be in touch. Of course I assumed we would probably be looking at a 3rd inpatient stay and started mentally prepping for that as the outcome. The case manager calls from our insurance company. The hospital hadn’t submitted an extension request and today was to be her last “covered” day for PHP. With this in mind I was thinking they had a review today and would be submitting the request later in the day. I was trying to be positive. I got a phone call with a medication increase. Expected, upping the antidepressant. Alrighty. We just did this, but I’m not a doctor so I’m just going to roll with it and do what they say (within reason). By 3:00 I’m going to get 2 from treatment. Confused because I never got any additional follow up. 2 gets in and says the day hadn’t been bad. I broke down in a mess of tears right then. I was just barely holding it together when the phone rang. I answered. It was the hospital. They were calling with an update on their recommendation for further treatment for 2. “Here it comes. Get ready M. The blow is going to sting. You will get through this. It’s going to be okay. You are safe. SHE IS SAFE. You’ve got this.” My head was trying to remind me over and over. Then came the blow. “Residential care is what we are recommending.” I can’t breathe. I have to pull over on the side of the interstate in 4:00pm traffic because I can no longer see through my tears. “30-90 days to start.” What in the actual fuck was happening? They want me to commit my kid? My kid. My blonde haired blue marble ocean eyed daughter who has an amazing smile and has my sense of humor, an amazingly huge heart and an honesty that is so brutal. My kid. I was stunned and became completely overwhelmed. Why? I don’t understand. She is getting better. She is doing better. What the fuck!?!? I’m confused. Instant panic ensues and 2 is next to me probably thinking someone died or some other catastrophic event has happened. I pulled it together and made it down the road and home.
Tonight has been a whirlwind. I stopped taking emergency anxiety medication a while back, but thankfully I had stashed just a few “in case of emergency” I am so thankful I did. 0.25mg of Xanax. A super small dose. In the midst of my third panic attack I decided I would never rest tonight and couldn’t cry every time I saw her sweet face, heard her voice saying “Momma!” in her very exaggerated southern accent, or heard her name spoken by 1 or 3. I’m going to miss this kid so much. 10 days is the longest we’ve been apart and that was her first inpatient stay. She takes up so much space, in the best ways! She is loud and rambunctious. She is obnoxious and inappropriate. Impulsive and argumentative. Opinionated and brutally honest. Hilarious and so damn cute. She is dancing and painting. Always talking about random bits of information. She is into serial killers and crime documentaries. She is playing soccer or cooking. She is a force of nature. I can’t believe it’s nearly midnight and I’ve cried to the point my eyes are swollen. I’m over this. Mental illness fucking blows. She is 13, and like her inpatient psychiatrist said “she shouldn’t have to fight herself to be happy.” She has so much life in her. She has such a big heart and a huge personality. It amazes me that my little girl is such a strong and good person, but it equally makes me so incredibly sad and like a failure that she doesn’t value what everyone around her sees. She can’t see herself through my eyes. That big personality, full of life, bright eyed, beautiful, amazing, strong, sweet, inclusive, loving child only sees the faults. Only sees the negative. She feels pain, sadness, disappointment, grief, anxiety and no amount of my wishing, hoping or praying can fix that for her. I’ve been fired from being her parent and support for the next 30-90 days. I have to now be in the background and be only an extra in her life. I’m so incredibly sad. I’m so incredibly scared. I’m so incredibly lost. I’m not sure where to go from here.
As I was crying my eyes out after panic attack #3 tonight when 2 comes and sits next to me. She looks at me and says “I’m sorry momma. I love you. We’ve been through worse. We will get through this. I will go. I will get the help I need and the right medications to help me. I will get out and go back and finish PHP, then IOP, then back to K-Christ Lord and Savior. And we will never have to do this again. I will never need to go back again. This is the last time.” With all my heart and soul I hope that’s true 2. I really really do. We can’t have threefold without you kid! You are central to it. What is 1 and 3 without 2? This is my complete and utter wish on every star, with every fiber in my being, with every piece of me I hope that my sweet blue eyed girl gets help. Can come back home soon and be with us, her family, and have healed her pain to the point she can live a full and happy life. That she can be free of the chains of our past and never doubt her place in this world again. I pray to every god that has ever been prayed to that my child finds peace and self acceptance and values herself and her life. I would take that pain and hurt from her or any of my threefold a million times over if I knew they would be safe, happy, and find a peace within themselves.
