Sparks and Butterflies...

But aside from that, she's still completely normal

An Update

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All kinds of things go through my head as to what to post in this kind of thing.

How is Joseph doing?
How are we coping?
How Logan handling it all?

But taking the time to actually write it down as I’m living it seems to take more energy than I have right now.

To top it all off, I landed a new client. But she’s a VA Firm, which means, I’ve actually landed 3 clients through her. In and of itself that’s a fabulous thing. But. It means I’m working full time now. And juggling like the best Vegas-juggler you’ve ever… EVER… seen. I landed her one week to the day before Joseph landed in the hospital. I’m giving her full disclosure and all, I can’t lose the gig. But it makes my stress level that much higher.

So. How is Logan handling it? Short answer is an influx of good boy syndrome. We’re trying to just let him be, and take him on our visits when he asks. That’s even a hard decision. I mean, he’s 10. Should he be vising his brother in a facility like that? On the other hand, he most definitely was getting curious. It’s a 4 hour round trip, so we would be disappearing for most of his awake time at night, and he’s been spending that with grandpa. We’re having all kinds of serious discussions he’s not a part of. His brother is “sick” somehow, but he doesn’t have a broken leg. Also, because he’s our accident prone child with a heart condition, he’s seen his share of hospitals for his EKGs, Echos, and stitches. He was questioning why he’s so far away. We’ve explained it as best we could. (How do you explain that someone tried to kill Joseph in the last hospital he was in, so we requested a different hospital in BFE?) So, he came to his own conclusions. The hospitals near us are for stitches. Okay. We’ll go with that. After his first visit when we were pulling into our driveway at bedtime for him, I said, “So, now you know what we’ve been doing at night.” He replied, “Now I know how much you love your kids.” I almost cried right there. He’s 10. He shouldn’t be having deep thoughts at 10. He should be arguing about cleaning his room, and trying to finagle more Legos. But – now that nothing is mysterious, he’s doing better with the situation. And Joseph likes it. When we leave, he hugs Logan, and since we all visit in the same room, he let some of his fellow patients know, proudly, “This is my little brother.”

How we’re coping? I don’t know. There’s lots of gallows humor, a lot of scheduling, and lots of breathing. There’s been a lot of laughing.

As for Joseph, he’s still in the hospital. We all want him better before he comes home. So, I’ve voluntarily committed him. Essentially, everyone seems to agree that Joseph is not suicidal, but OCD. The problem is, his current particular intrusive thoughts are of him dying. So he’s in the hospital until we figure out his correct meds, in the right dosage, and turn the obsessive thoughts to something else. I feel like the best and worst mother in the world, to be honest. But, if I were to be a sissy and not commit my “precious snowflake” so I wouldn’t have it on my conscience, they probably would force a two week hold. Two week hold means court. Court means record. Record means deleting potential opportunities from his future I have no business deleting from him at the age of 12. So – I suck up the judgement (including my own) and signed the papers.

He is having some trouble with his roommate and that sucks. The kid beat on him, and so Joseph told on him. Therefore the roommate calls him a snitch, and called me a whore.

And THANK YOU for having to make me explain “whore” to my 12 year old.

So I assured Joseph that the comments of a sick kid to not effect me. I’m a big girl, and he’s acting out. Poe explained to him that this isn’t the first time it’s going to happen. Boys (and sometimes men) have a tendency to break out the “Mamas” when they’ve got no other ammunition, and gave him some tips in handling situations like that. We also told Joseph to keep snitching – even if the other kids doesn’t like it. He’s there for a reason, and the hospital can’t help him if they don’t know the facts. Joseph seems to understand about all of that – but he’s seriously done with this kid.

Other than that, Joseph understands what’s going on, and is being proactive in his treatment. He also feels safe, so he’s not begging to come home. He wants to feel better, and had asked to be put somewhere safe, so this is most definitely partly his call. He’s going to be there until at least Monday. I’ll be talking to the doctors again on Monday. We had to switch the visits to every other day. I feel bad about that. But we have a truck. It’s our only vehicle. Poe works relatively close to home. So – one fill up per week is what the budget can tolerate. Filling up every other day due to the distance? The budget can’t handle that and we’re out of money. So, we switched to every other day. Joseph seems okay with it, as long as I tell him every time we go when he’ll next see us. And we’re there every time we say we are. He’s trusting us at out word at the moment. We’ve never let him down if we’ve said “ABC is going to happen.” We always add a “maybe” or a “this isn’t a promise” when we’re not sure – otherwise we always follow through consistently, including consequences when we’re talking behavior, so he’s been able to trust that we’ll be there, and so it’s not effecting him as much as it could, thank God. Every time we go, I also give him an update on what’s going on with the doctors, and what we think is going on with him, what we’re doing with his meds, etc. One – he has a brain, and needs to know what’s going on with him. Two – we’ve never shielded him from, well, himself. We’ve always been up front. Because his issues do not effect intelligence, cognitive functioning, or putting concepts together, we’ve felt it important that he has full knowledge. And when necessary, takes responsibility. He’s going to have to live this way. Plus, I want him to know that while he’s in there, he’s not forgotten. He hasn’t been tucked away as a “problem” and we’re proactively helping him from the outside. That’s very important.

That’s all I got for now.

Merry-Go-Round

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I’m not sure what I want to say here. I’m a little numb, a little dumb, exhausted, and I still have to work, fend for another child, manage my husband’s schedule, all with a sinus infection.

But – Joseph’s in the hospital again. Suicidal ideation, with a plan. In other words, he doesn’t want to die, but can’t get the pictures out of his head (obsessive compulsive) and he was afraid he would be worn down enough to do it.

Three day hold. We’ll see how it goes.

I have to drive two hours to get to this hospital. But – it was the only one with a bed so he didn’t have to go to the previous hospital we had such a terrible experience with.

There’s a lot of good and bad in this.

Bad – compulsive thoughts
Good – he recognized them

Bad – have to call a PET team in
Good – no handcuffs, everyone’s calm, his personal psychiatric team was involved, no drama

Bad – he has to be hospitalized
Good – he recognized the need and asked to be safe

Bad – 4 hours round trip to see him for our allotted hour each day
Good – He’s not at the hospital where someone tried to kill him

I have no answers. I have no help. I have no idea what’s going to happen in the next few days. I sure as hell don’t have the money for this. I’m trying to take it day by day.

Today, we have food in the house, and he’s safe. I can’t really worry much beyond that and remain sane myself.

My Mom Gets It At The End

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My mom and I have a complicated relationship.

I learned all my stubbornness, lack of empathy, tell it like it is, and compartmentalization from her.

It can be good. I get my way because I work hard for it. If someone passes away in your life, I won’t cry with you – but your bills will be paid, your house clean, your laundry done, and food in your fridge. If you come to me for advice, I won’t coddle you. But you’ll know the truth, and you’ll get an objective opinion, you’ll know where I stand. I’m not unkind, but people don’t always see me that way. And I do care, but I don’t express it the same way as you.

I’m just like my mom.

But, it’s complicated. She turned a blind eye to some things when I was a kid. I already had abandonment issues due to Jeannette, and so I played the part of the good girl until my early twenties. But I wish she hadn’t turned a blind eye to some of the abuses I endured. Now that I’m an adult with a family, I know she knew. She has always been generous, but only if I’m doing what SHE thinks is the right thing. I never knew if her illnesses were “real” sick, or “fake” sick. She’s been sick all her life, she really has, but had the uncanny ability to get sick, and then come to whatever function I had as the martyr (“I had to be here for my daughter”). It doesn’t take a fight for her to stop speaking to me. Whatever I do wrong can be just in her head. But that doesn’t stop the silent treatment.

On the other hand, when Poe and I wanted to get married so fast, she was my biggest supporter (although, by golly, we did it her way). When I had Joseph, she drove 350 miles so she could take us home from the hospital. We actually went out to eat (I.WAS.STARVING.) and I thought she would actually really deck the waitress who asked me when I was due. When we were about to leave the hospital, and Logan was suddenly diagnosed with his heart condition, I got on the phone, “Mom, his heart…” She literally hung up on me. She was already on the way. She had no fear in scrubbing into the NICU and touching that little boy, even with all the wires. And I will say this. She trusts my parenting more than I trust it, that’s for sure. She’s never stepped over the parenting/grandparenting boundaries – although with her, that HAD to be hard. Trust me.

I had to be the one to tell her that her son, her real, biological son (I’m her biological grand-niece) had committed suicide. He hung himself. She had to be the one to tell me that my biological mother was dying and didn’t want to see me. And then tell me when she died. But she was at Jeannette’s bedside when it happened.

I have to be the one to make her mad when she won’t eat, or won’t go to the bathroom, won’t go to the doctor. Because my dad’s kindness won’t cut it. She’ll only do it if she’s mad at me, to spite me. (It works. God, that woman is stubborn.) I have to be the bad guy, ’cause when she’s pissed, she’ll fight. If she fights, she’s alive.

She has Alzheimers. Most of the time, she can’t follow a conversation, really. She tries, but she can’t. The last time she was at my house for a birthday, she said to my kids, “who’s that loudmouth bitch, and why do you want to hang out with her?” Wow. But then again – she raised this loudmouthed bitch.

Yesterday, my dad needed to have cancer removed from his back. He didn’t want to deal with her, too, and so I was checking up on her throughout the day. I had girded myself for it. She hates it when I help out. She hates the lack of privacy, and she hates that I know so much. So I had prepared myself for the abuse already. But… Yesterday? Yesterday, she was lucid. I got to have REAL conversations with her. She gave me money for Christmas for the kids, so I could shop on her behalf, ’cause she knew she couldn’t. She actually talked to me – knowing who I was, where dad was, and was okay with me being there.

She asked how Joseph’s really doing. She said, “It must be so hard for you. You must worry all the time. I have no idea what it is like. You never suffered like Joseph does.” I don’t know where that came from, and it’ll probably be the last understanding I get from her ever. But I’ll remember it. I’ll remember her coming to Logan’s bedside. I’ll remember the time she walked into a party when I was a teenager and gave the kids there what-for ’cause they ran me off saying I wasn’t invited (I was horribly horribly embarrassed, but as an adult I recognize that she was standing up for me). I’ll remember that she took me in. I’ll remember that she loved Joseph anyway. I’ll remember that she watched Logan like a hawk. I’ll remember her fighting for me (even while fighting me). I’ll remember that she loved Poe like a son, and fiercely too.

I’ll remember.

This may be our last Christmas. I’ve already made arrangements on my father’s behalf. I’ll try to continue to be the stubborn, know-it-all, can-do, tell it like it is daughter she raised me to be. I’ve learned lessons from her of what not to be, what not to do. I practice those lessons every day.

But yesterday? She understood what I go through as a mom, and she really got it. I’ll remember.

At What Point Do I Get To Lose It?

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So, I lose at NaBloPoMo. I really did try, and then real-life kicked my ass in ways I’ve been unable or unwilling to talk about to this point.

First, my parents decided to usurp my parental authority. THAT WAS FUN. That’s a new dynamic I’m not used to – they’re usually very good at letting us be parents, and letting them be grandparents, and not blurring that line. It’s a pretty significant line seeing as how they’re together with the kids a lot, and we live right next door, so boundaries in the relationship are important.

So Thanksgiving. Yeah. My parents were no-shows. So, that was fun. Because of my mother’s health issues, AND my mother’s mental health issues, I have no idea if “mom’s sick” is actually, “mom’s sick,” or if it’s “we’re pissed off at you and so we’re going to pull the martyr/passive aggressive card to punish you.” Because my emotional maturity surpassed theirs about a decade ago, I truly, truly do not know which is the case. Yes, my mother is very aggressively ill. But has been so for the last 6 years. And because of her alzheimer’s she has a tendency to revert to past behavior (ie what made my difficult childhood difficult) there’s really no telling. I feel like a total bitch for not taking “mom’s sick” at face-value, but there it is.

Topping that – I made end of life arrangements for her on behalf of my father. Nothing like saying, “Yeah, she could go tonight. Or she could go 5 years from now. What do I do?”

And then Poe didn’t get an important promotion he really wanted, and I lost a client. I didn’t totally lose it, so I’m making progress in terms of how financial security plays a role in my own anxiety. But! The person he relieves is leaving and he’s stepping into the role, so it looks like he might be getting an inadvertent promotion anyway which is a good thing. It hasn’t happened yet, so we don’t know for sure, but if it happens, that’s a good thing for us.

And finally the big one.

I don’t talk too much, anymore, about my kids on my blog. At a certain point, their stories become theirs, and my mentioning them is really an invasion of privacy. I’m not totally sure where the lines are actually drawn, so I’ve just been going with my gut. But the latest “episode” in the saga of Joseph has really effected me, and so I’m sharing. Technically, he had 3 diagnoses. ADHD Inattentive Type, Social Anxiety, and “Mood Disorder.” The mood disorder was really depression – except that he didn’t fall into the time constraints to be diagnosed as such.

Well… Until he expressed suicidal thoughts.

There’s nothing quite like the gut-punch that is a 12 year old wanting to commit suicide because he feels like he’s too much of a burden to you.

He, however, has a tremendous team around him, and quite frankly, good parents who give a shit. And so, with further talking and testing, he’s no longer diagnosed with “Mood Disorder” but with Clinical Depression. We think it was probably always there, but a more mild form. Enough that his current medication helped with it (although he’s on it for other reasons). But puberty has hit with a vengeance, and we think that’s what finally tipped the scales into full blown Clinical Depression. Since his issues are of a brain chemistry variety, and Clinical Depression has to do with brain chemistry as well, adding hormones to the mix just blew the whole thing up.

He is safe – always was between us and the team – thank God. But as his mom… Dear God. A burden? God. We are, actually, very careful with our words around here. Always honest, but always, ALWAYS with the knowledge that words wound, and especially wound people with sensitivity and anxiety issues.

I’m so glad he was born to us, as opposed to anyone else in our families. Our families are rife with mental illness ranging from anxiety to Depression to BiPolar Disorder. Our family is rife with suicides. But also – our family is rife with not speaking about it, not getting help, not medicating where actually necessary, ignoring the symptoms, and labeling as “Bad.” I thank God that Poe and I decided we were not going to continue on our families’ path. It means we’re pretty much ignored and ostracized. Too much truth telling is scary for them.

But if we weren’t who we are? If we didn’t make that decision? Would Joseph be dead?

While I’m am grateful for us and his team catching it fast, and I’m grateful there is help for him, and I’m grateful we don’t stick our heads in the sand…

Some days I just want to scream. I want to scream and bury my head and not get out of bed. I want to get drunk and forget everything. I want to be alone and not have to deal with anyone or anything.

I can’t do that.

I’m responsible.

I care.

I advocate.

And everyone else expects that from me too.

But really… At what point do I get to lose my shit?

Ever Done an IEP? Then You Must Read

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I have not one, but two kids on an IEP. One goes to a specialized Jr. High on an IEP, and the other goes to a regular elementary school on an IEP through a 504 – a medical case.

If you’ve never done an IEP, basically there’s a team there. Ours usually consists of the principal, director of the Special Ed Program, school/district Psychologist, personal therapist, teacher, special Ed teachers, Occupational Therapists, Speech Therapists (although they’ve not been around for a while for us), and the PE Teacher and District Nurse (in one kid’s case). They go around the room saying everything that’s wrong with your kid. Then they go around again saying what the last meeting’s goals were. They go around again, saying how the kids did (or didn’t) on meeting that goal. Then they go around again making goals for the next time. Then they go around again so everyone can sign they were there and agree.

I wear pink hair and combat boots, ’cause these things are war, man.

And so, I bring you Ways to Make Your Next IEP Awesome. If you’ve ever been there, she nails it. Perhaps I should forgo the pink hair and go for all out Braveheart war makeup.

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