My son has been re-hospitalized, and my 7 year old just spent two weeks in partial hospitalization. My daughter is depressed, and I'm concerned that it is becoming serious. My five (almost six) year old is having tantrums and crying fits he never had before. My husband and I are disconnected and overwhelmed. I don't know what to do next.
I never thought I could feel this depressed ON medication. I struggle with Major Depression, but that is why I take medication. I can't even IMAGINE what things would be like if I wasn't on meds at this point. My panic attacks are happening more frequently, and I feel so lost.
It is very difficult for so many things to be out of control. When I told God I would give Him over total control, I didn't expect quite this ride. I am still not sorry I did it, but I am feeling like I am drowning. I had the privilege of being able to see the Casting Crowns concert, which of course, was amazing, but a new artist, Lindsay McCaul, performed a song that left me sobbing. It is called, "Take My Hand" and I feel like it was written about me. I guess that's the great thing about songs, they can really show you that other people share deep struggles right along with you, same or not.
I want to sleep, I want to huddle up, stay home, and do nothing for days. My "manager" as my friend calls the same part of her, is still in working order and won't let me do it, and I'm grateful. There is this pit that I'm just inches from that I feel I could fall in at any time. There are times I am scared it could really happen.
I can almost understand why it is so much easier for my son to deal with hospitalization. Things are very simple there, and they don't require a whole lot of him. At home, it is a different story. We had a visit the other day, and he told me that when he gets off the elevator and sees us waiting to visit, it is like a dark cloud descends on him, one of anger and agitation. That was hard to hear, but I know it's true....I've seen that dark cloud since he was 7. He would never verbalize anything like this before now, and I wonder if the medication is allowing him to explain a little more of what is going on inside.
For now, life is about therapy sessions three times a week, visiting, staffings, and juggling everything else along with it. I think that's why they call it "muddling through." There are no clear cut boundaries to all the things that have to get done. They all have to get done, sometimes at the same time, and you just have to do it, make it work somehow.
I am reminded daily to "Praise You In This Storm," and I'm trying, I really am.
Monday, October 31, 2011
Thursday, October 13, 2011
Painful journey
This is a very painful journey. I am not saying that for myself, although it is true as well. Watching a mentally ill child try and make sense of what is happening to them is truly difficult. It is also extremely painful to watch your healthy children deteriorate before your eyes because of all they have gone through, and not know how to help. It is painful to realize you yourself have been the cause of too much of this pain, because you have tried to handle things yourself instead of "letting go."
Recently, I bought myself a print to hang on my wall. It shows a winter scene with a barren tree along a fence, and says, simply, "Be still, and know that I am God." I bought it because it is a reminder to me that I need to "let go." I can trust God, especially when things are immensely difficult. The winter scene reminds me of how we are barren, and come spring, the tree will bloom beautifully again. It is a season of difficulty, not a lifelong state.
I am able to cling to God during this time. I have been able to do so since I was a little girl. Of course, there were plenty of times that I strayed from God, and others that I thought I knew better, but in the end, I know I can trust God. I am having a hard time convincing my children that they can trust Him, too. My son, unable to cope with how he feels, is angry, sad, scared and frustrated. The last thing he wants to do is believe that there is a plan for him. I try to gently remind him that God has a plan for each of us, because God is in us.
I don't know what these coming days will bring. My son is being released from the hospital after 43 days, and he isn't better. He has the same issues that brought him there, and has not made much progress. The doctors feel that they will be able to get through to him better in a partial hospitalization, because he only wants to talk about going home. This is not setting well with most of us here. Those in denial are happy he is coming home, the rest of us are uneasy. So many long years of chaos, stress, unsafe behavior, torment and threatening have left me empty. I don't have much strength to muster to have him returning already, but I also don't have a choice.
I can definitely empathize with the many families that have traveled this road before me. Even as terrible as the state of mental health care is today, surely it was much worse before. The feeling of being alone is an enormous burden it itself, and all the other challenges are next to impossible to effectively deal with.
I am heavily in prayer today that as unaware as I am of what the "plan" is for my family, that God will hold us through it. Being "still" isn't easy.
Recently, I bought myself a print to hang on my wall. It shows a winter scene with a barren tree along a fence, and says, simply, "Be still, and know that I am God." I bought it because it is a reminder to me that I need to "let go." I can trust God, especially when things are immensely difficult. The winter scene reminds me of how we are barren, and come spring, the tree will bloom beautifully again. It is a season of difficulty, not a lifelong state.
I am able to cling to God during this time. I have been able to do so since I was a little girl. Of course, there were plenty of times that I strayed from God, and others that I thought I knew better, but in the end, I know I can trust God. I am having a hard time convincing my children that they can trust Him, too. My son, unable to cope with how he feels, is angry, sad, scared and frustrated. The last thing he wants to do is believe that there is a plan for him. I try to gently remind him that God has a plan for each of us, because God is in us.
I don't know what these coming days will bring. My son is being released from the hospital after 43 days, and he isn't better. He has the same issues that brought him there, and has not made much progress. The doctors feel that they will be able to get through to him better in a partial hospitalization, because he only wants to talk about going home. This is not setting well with most of us here. Those in denial are happy he is coming home, the rest of us are uneasy. So many long years of chaos, stress, unsafe behavior, torment and threatening have left me empty. I don't have much strength to muster to have him returning already, but I also don't have a choice.
I can definitely empathize with the many families that have traveled this road before me. Even as terrible as the state of mental health care is today, surely it was much worse before. The feeling of being alone is an enormous burden it itself, and all the other challenges are next to impossible to effectively deal with.
I am heavily in prayer today that as unaware as I am of what the "plan" is for my family, that God will hold us through it. Being "still" isn't easy.
Saturday, October 8, 2011
Looking Up
There is not a day that goes by anymore that I do not think about how we got to this place. I mean, this place of uncertainty, fear and feeling a bit hopeless. I am always judging myself, and always trying to be "better". Years and years ago when I knew something wasn't right, but no one was listening to me, and they all believed that I was reading too much into things, I judged myself. I thought I was fatalistic and a bad parent. I did press on, though, and the part of me that would not let "it" go, kept me reading and reading. I probably read 150 books over the course of two years, trying to figure out what was wrong.
As a homeschooler, I got to be around my son all the time. This, of course, had good and bad parts to it. As I read about kids with mood disorders (whatever the kind) that grow up in a family of "high expressed" emotion, it isn't positive for them. Yet, knowing my son as well as I do, helped me to really look in depth and find what might be wrong. I have learned that "gut instinct", "intuition", "discernment", whatever you want to call it, is the key to success in any endeavour. Even amidst the conflicting advice, I persevered in the way that I knew how, and I feel that I did not let my son down in this way. If he had not had a neuropsychological evaluation at age 10, we would have nothing to compare to now, to see how far he has deteriorated, and it might have taken longer to get on the right track. I say this, not to be boastful (certainly nothing to boast about), but to remind everyone that it is possible that a mother, who spends all of her time with her child, might know better than doctors, friends, peers, specialists and therapists.
When one thing doesn't work, try another, and another, and another. There are times when answers are not forthcoming. Keep trying. Don't give up. We are the only advocates our children have at these ages. It is difficult. Heartbreaking. Chaotic. I would encourage every parent who has other children along with a mentally ill child, to create boundaries. Do so for yourself, your other children, and for the ill child. It will save a lot of grief and your sanity.
One thing a therapist friend of mine mentioned to me, differently than I had thought of it, was that my son has now been in the hospital for 37 days. He is also on a "last resort" medication in Clozaril. I have been dealing with all of this, at home, previously. Now you know why I say to create boundaries. You probably can't, unless you have experience with having a mentally ill family member, imagine the devastation left behind.
I labeled this post: Looking Up. I am doing a lot of that these days. I am looking up toward God to guide me in my decision making and to help me to persevere in the midst of this crisis. It's funny (not really) that therapists keep calling this a "crisis". One thing that gets really skewed is tolerance and expectations. I was, what Dr. Henry Cloud calls, "Acclimated to the misery." Yes, I expected every day to be difficult, and it was. I wasn't taking responsibility in the way I should have, to say, "This is more than I can handle." I have always feared being seen as a parent who is lacking. I wanted my kids to know that I was there and always available to them. I made a mistake. By not setting necessary boundaries in our household because of being overwhelmed, exhausted, and hopeless, I created a very unsafe and miserable environment. I relied on my own desire to "do it all," and now, the other children are paying the price for that decision. I'm not feeling sorry for myself, I'm just taking responsibility. I am also committed to not letting it happen again.
It's hard to know the right things to do. There are indications that my son's type of illness, and the way he presents may suggest a very poor outcome. What I have to do now, is face the reality that things might not get any better than they are now. I have to be realistic, and take in the evidence and what is being said. But I can also pray. I can pray that whatever happens, my son will be held through all of this, and we will be too. I also have something else that I am striving for. No matter how bad the circumstances, I need to keep looking up.
As a homeschooler, I got to be around my son all the time. This, of course, had good and bad parts to it. As I read about kids with mood disorders (whatever the kind) that grow up in a family of "high expressed" emotion, it isn't positive for them. Yet, knowing my son as well as I do, helped me to really look in depth and find what might be wrong. I have learned that "gut instinct", "intuition", "discernment", whatever you want to call it, is the key to success in any endeavour. Even amidst the conflicting advice, I persevered in the way that I knew how, and I feel that I did not let my son down in this way. If he had not had a neuropsychological evaluation at age 10, we would have nothing to compare to now, to see how far he has deteriorated, and it might have taken longer to get on the right track. I say this, not to be boastful (certainly nothing to boast about), but to remind everyone that it is possible that a mother, who spends all of her time with her child, might know better than doctors, friends, peers, specialists and therapists.
When one thing doesn't work, try another, and another, and another. There are times when answers are not forthcoming. Keep trying. Don't give up. We are the only advocates our children have at these ages. It is difficult. Heartbreaking. Chaotic. I would encourage every parent who has other children along with a mentally ill child, to create boundaries. Do so for yourself, your other children, and for the ill child. It will save a lot of grief and your sanity.
One thing a therapist friend of mine mentioned to me, differently than I had thought of it, was that my son has now been in the hospital for 37 days. He is also on a "last resort" medication in Clozaril. I have been dealing with all of this, at home, previously. Now you know why I say to create boundaries. You probably can't, unless you have experience with having a mentally ill family member, imagine the devastation left behind.
I labeled this post: Looking Up. I am doing a lot of that these days. I am looking up toward God to guide me in my decision making and to help me to persevere in the midst of this crisis. It's funny (not really) that therapists keep calling this a "crisis". One thing that gets really skewed is tolerance and expectations. I was, what Dr. Henry Cloud calls, "Acclimated to the misery." Yes, I expected every day to be difficult, and it was. I wasn't taking responsibility in the way I should have, to say, "This is more than I can handle." I have always feared being seen as a parent who is lacking. I wanted my kids to know that I was there and always available to them. I made a mistake. By not setting necessary boundaries in our household because of being overwhelmed, exhausted, and hopeless, I created a very unsafe and miserable environment. I relied on my own desire to "do it all," and now, the other children are paying the price for that decision. I'm not feeling sorry for myself, I'm just taking responsibility. I am also committed to not letting it happen again.
It's hard to know the right things to do. There are indications that my son's type of illness, and the way he presents may suggest a very poor outcome. What I have to do now, is face the reality that things might not get any better than they are now. I have to be realistic, and take in the evidence and what is being said. But I can also pray. I can pray that whatever happens, my son will be held through all of this, and we will be too. I also have something else that I am striving for. No matter how bad the circumstances, I need to keep looking up.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)