Realizations

I was reading my son's psychological evaluation the other day, more thoroughly than I had the first time.  Reading it brought out all kinds of feelings from within me, mostly sadness and frustration.  I am sad that my son is dealing with so many issues beyond anyone's control, including his own.  I am frustrated that we went so long without knowing exactly what was wrong, though this was for a variety of reasons, and cannot be put down to one factor. Then, I reached the end. 


First, I felt incredulity dawning, then ANGER.  I am REALLY angry.  The reason I am SO angry, is that, on the recommendations portion of the evaluation, the family is given a "suggested" list of things to do at home.  Things like, i.e., put alarms on all of the doors, install voice monitors, and set a constant supervision schedule.  Also, create a better set of life circumstances for my son.  Then, "Parent in a positive, rather than negative way, keeping things upbeat, but being careful not to ignore mistakes or negativity."  Ummm....yeah.  Well, sometimes, when I receive these little "suggestions", I'd love to tell the person doing the evaluation to come to my house and try that advice amid the daily chaos of raising four children.  It's funny to me that they need several staff and cameras and all kinds of other things at the hospital, but think my son can just come back home, and we'll see how it goes.  Two of my other children are so traumatized, they do not want him to come back at all.


One thing the states, the Government, and many professionals in the field have not figured out yet is that mental illness RAVAGES families.  It does not roam sweetly throughout the house, in bliss; it is angry, violent, malicious and unrelenting.  There are days that I absolutely think, "I'm not going to make it." But, I have to. These are my children and if I cannot be there for them, who will?  Not my family of origin, to be sure.  I have recently been effected by several panic attacks a day.  The amount of stress at this time in my life is like nothing I have ever known.  I feel for my son, and am broken over the fact that I know he is so tormented.  I hurt for my daughter, who is a sweet and gentle girl, yet has become sullen and isolated, and is not sleeping.  I am worried about my seven year old son, because I see him struggling all of the time.  My five year old still makes us laugh, but I hope behind that silly facade, he isn't suffering too much.


There are few options.  Many residential group settings are reserved for DCFS wards, and I totally understand it, there are, unfortunately, SO many.  Other facilities are really for the wealthier families, who are able to afford payment of the $30,000 or more a year for their children to be there.  Right now, our only hope is an ICG grant and maybe some social security for my son.  I know that if he has to come home, he will again be overwhelmed and unable to cope.  The reason I know this is because he exhibits the exact same feelings and issues when we visit as when he left home.  I don't want the return for any of us.  I don't want my son to be struggling every day.  I don't want my other kids to be afraid.  No one looks at home as the safe haven it should be, or, they didn't.  My seven year old, who went to school for the first time for 1st grade said, "School is better than home."  Let that sink in.  


Now that my son has been gone for a few weeks, everyone is starting to relax a little.  There is tangible relief.  I am not saying this to be cruel.  People who are not subject to how a mentally ill person functions cannot understand the stress and chaos that each day brings,  not to mention the depression and anxiety.


I realize now how much effort and managing I have provided my oldest son.  I realize how neglectful I've been of  my other children.  I realize how neglectful I've been of myself.  These realizations are difficult, and don't feel good.  Then, there is the realization that my son may not come home.  I realize that is a decision that will have to be made, and it will end up in my lap.  I realize I have to have the strength to do the right thing for all of us.  The question is, can I?