I feel like we're starting a new chapter in this journey of sobriety. I use the design of my blog to reflect how I feel, what we are going through, and the black with red text no longer feels right.
Rather than change the design though, which changes the design for all the postings, I would prefer to start fresh.
Please continue this journey with us at http://search4mysmile2.blogspot.com/.
Saturday, October 15, 2011
Saturday, October 8, 2011
turning the corner and seeing the light
How time flies... Yesterday my daughter was discharged from IOP (Intensive Outpatient Program). What normally should have taken six to eight weeks barely lasted four, and she went only a few times those last couple of weeks. A couple of major things took place that brought IOP to an abrupt end.
First, school started at the end of September. My daughter is doing an online high school program that was supposed to be totally flexible and allowed her to move at her own pace. It is not and it does not. There are online sessions that she needs to attend each day and if she misses, she has to watch a recording of the session, which is considerably less fun than actually participating. So once classes started, my daughter was totally stressed about having to spend four to five hours each day in IOP and falling further and further behind.
Then she came down with bronchitis - most decidedly caused by stress - and so she stayed home for almost an entire week.
But the clincher was IOP itself. In a Partial Hospitalization Program (PHP), clients (aka patients) go to the program for eight hours a day where they eat two meals and two snacks and participate in group therapy. For IOP, clients are there from 10 a.m. to 2 p.m. where they have lunch and eat the two snacks and participate in one group therapy session with the PHP kids. So in IOP, you are with kids who are in the early stages of their recovery.
My daughter has come so far in these short few months that it was extremely frustrating for her to have to sit there for four hours a day, doing therapeutic exercises that she had already done, listening to people talk about problems she feels she has overcome. Especially since it meant that she was falling further behind in school. On Monday, as we were driving home that first day (after she had been off a week for illness and school had already started), she burst into tears and begged me not to make her go back.
As a parent, I agreed that she had progressed way beyond what she was getting in IOP and understood her frustration. But as a former nurse, I also know that mental health patients often stop treatment as soon as they start feeling better, which in most cases is detrimental to their healing. And so, in that moment, I told her she had to go back until the therapist told her she would be discharged. This released what I can only call a rant, a non-stop stream of irrational talking where she could not hear anything I said to her. It was the kind of thing that preceded her hurting herself in the past.
So I asked her, told her, "I need to know, when we get home, are you going to do something to hurt yourself?" And to her credit, my daughter answered honestly: "I don't know. I want to" and then she resumed her rant. I tried to talk to her, but she would not hear me so I turned the car around to head back to the hospital. When she realized what I was doing, she stopped talking, promised she would not do anything to hurt herself. It took several minutes but we finally got to the point where we could talk about her frustration and constructive ways to deal with it.
In the end, she decided to call M, her Narcotics Anonymous sponsor (I'll write more about her another time). Unfortunately M was at work and could not talk right then but she gave my daughter the phone number of another one of her sponsees and encouraged her to call. My daughter called and 20 minutes later, she was calm and back to her usual self.
I called her therapist the next day and we decided that this would be her last week of IOP and she would only have to come in one more day (Friday, which was yesterday) so that she could be officially discharged from the program.
I feel like we have been in a maze, finding our way in the dark, but we turned a corner and suddenly, I can see the light shining through the exit.
First, school started at the end of September. My daughter is doing an online high school program that was supposed to be totally flexible and allowed her to move at her own pace. It is not and it does not. There are online sessions that she needs to attend each day and if she misses, she has to watch a recording of the session, which is considerably less fun than actually participating. So once classes started, my daughter was totally stressed about having to spend four to five hours each day in IOP and falling further and further behind.
Then she came down with bronchitis - most decidedly caused by stress - and so she stayed home for almost an entire week.
But the clincher was IOP itself. In a Partial Hospitalization Program (PHP), clients (aka patients) go to the program for eight hours a day where they eat two meals and two snacks and participate in group therapy. For IOP, clients are there from 10 a.m. to 2 p.m. where they have lunch and eat the two snacks and participate in one group therapy session with the PHP kids. So in IOP, you are with kids who are in the early stages of their recovery.
My daughter has come so far in these short few months that it was extremely frustrating for her to have to sit there for four hours a day, doing therapeutic exercises that she had already done, listening to people talk about problems she feels she has overcome. Especially since it meant that she was falling further behind in school. On Monday, as we were driving home that first day (after she had been off a week for illness and school had already started), she burst into tears and begged me not to make her go back.
As a parent, I agreed that she had progressed way beyond what she was getting in IOP and understood her frustration. But as a former nurse, I also know that mental health patients often stop treatment as soon as they start feeling better, which in most cases is detrimental to their healing. And so, in that moment, I told her she had to go back until the therapist told her she would be discharged. This released what I can only call a rant, a non-stop stream of irrational talking where she could not hear anything I said to her. It was the kind of thing that preceded her hurting herself in the past.
So I asked her, told her, "I need to know, when we get home, are you going to do something to hurt yourself?" And to her credit, my daughter answered honestly: "I don't know. I want to" and then she resumed her rant. I tried to talk to her, but she would not hear me so I turned the car around to head back to the hospital. When she realized what I was doing, she stopped talking, promised she would not do anything to hurt herself. It took several minutes but we finally got to the point where we could talk about her frustration and constructive ways to deal with it.
In the end, she decided to call M, her Narcotics Anonymous sponsor (I'll write more about her another time). Unfortunately M was at work and could not talk right then but she gave my daughter the phone number of another one of her sponsees and encouraged her to call. My daughter called and 20 minutes later, she was calm and back to her usual self.
I called her therapist the next day and we decided that this would be her last week of IOP and she would only have to come in one more day (Friday, which was yesterday) so that she could be officially discharged from the program.
I feel like we have been in a maze, finding our way in the dark, but we turned a corner and suddenly, I can see the light shining through the exit.
Wednesday, September 14, 2011
a teenager's perception of time
Yesterday we had an appointment with a nurse to do the initial assessment for admission to the treatment center where my daughter will be doing IOP. The nurse was asking questions like, "When was the last time you used drugs? How much did you use? When was the last time you purged? How often did you purge?" To which my daughter replied over and over again, "I don't know. It was so long ago" or "That was forever ago." I couldn't help but smile. It was a little over two months ago.
Then last night at the NA meeting, I overheard my daughter talking to someone about how she has had SO MUCH THERAPY, she is sick of it. (It's been five weeks.) Again, I couldn't help but smile because she was talking to a young woman who is being treated for serious anorexia, which involves months and months of residential treatment and years of intense therapy.
This seems to be very typical of how teenagers think, or maybe it is just the way my drama-queen-daughter thinks. Time does not consist of 86,400 seconds a day, 365 days a year for her the way it does for me. The ED therapist was telling me about how my daughter was talking about wanting to play volleyball (as a way to get some exercise) and then she jumped to how important it was for her to keep up her skills so that she can get a scholarship to college and then get a good job and live a good life. She will talk about finishing high school and going to community college and then to UCLA all in the same breath.
On the one hand, I think it is charming and funny. She is talking about good things and looking forward to life. On the other hand, I can see how it can be overwhelming when it looks like forever is around the corner and it seems like things will never get better. It gives new meaning to the AA/NA/Al-Anon mantra, "One day at a time."
Today is supposed to be an uneventful, quiet day at home (unless insurance authorization comes through and my daughter ends up going to IOP). Our goal is to focus on and enjoy all 86,400 seconds of it.
Then last night at the NA meeting, I overheard my daughter talking to someone about how she has had SO MUCH THERAPY, she is sick of it. (It's been five weeks.) Again, I couldn't help but smile because she was talking to a young woman who is being treated for serious anorexia, which involves months and months of residential treatment and years of intense therapy.
This seems to be very typical of how teenagers think, or maybe it is just the way my drama-queen-daughter thinks. Time does not consist of 86,400 seconds a day, 365 days a year for her the way it does for me. The ED therapist was telling me about how my daughter was talking about wanting to play volleyball (as a way to get some exercise) and then she jumped to how important it was for her to keep up her skills so that she can get a scholarship to college and then get a good job and live a good life. She will talk about finishing high school and going to community college and then to UCLA all in the same breath.
On the one hand, I think it is charming and funny. She is talking about good things and looking forward to life. On the other hand, I can see how it can be overwhelming when it looks like forever is around the corner and it seems like things will never get better. It gives new meaning to the AA/NA/Al-Anon mantra, "One day at a time."
Today is supposed to be an uneventful, quiet day at home (unless insurance authorization comes through and my daughter ends up going to IOP). Our goal is to focus on and enjoy all 86,400 seconds of it.
Tuesday, September 13, 2011
the madness has been temporarily postponed
We found out that today's appointment was only an assessment. My daughter will start IOP either tomorrow or Monday. (I'm hoping for Monday!)
Oh yayyy!! I'm enjoying these few, short hours at home, made all the sweeter because it was unexpected.
Oh yayyy!! I'm enjoying these few, short hours at home, made all the sweeter because it was unexpected.
gearing up for the madness
It turns out IOP is four hours a day, Monday through Friday. (sigh...)
Today we have to head east 30 minutes to go to IOP, then four hours later, head west 60 minutes to pick up my son from school and spend the evening with him. Then after dinner, we drive 45 minutes north to go to the Adolescent Narcotics Anonymous meeting held for alumni of the treatment program (my daughter's favorite meeting) and their parents support group (my favorite meeting). And finally another 45 minutes to drive back home, arriving at 10:00 p.m. just in time to go to bed.
One day at a time... (breathe...)
Today we have to head east 30 minutes to go to IOP, then four hours later, head west 60 minutes to pick up my son from school and spend the evening with him. Then after dinner, we drive 45 minutes north to go to the Adolescent Narcotics Anonymous meeting held for alumni of the treatment program (my daughter's favorite meeting) and their parents support group (my favorite meeting). And finally another 45 minutes to drive back home, arriving at 10:00 p.m. just in time to go to bed.
One day at a time... (breathe...)
understanding the second step
"Came to believe that a Power greater than ourselves
could restore us to sanity."
AA/Al-Anon Step 2
could restore us to sanity."
AA/Al-Anon Step 2
I've started my daily Al-Anon meditations again and today I am reading about Step Two. Six of the 12 Steps refer to a Higher Power or to God and a seventh step (the last one) talks about having a spiritual awakening. Based on what I am hearing at meetings, it seems like the majority of people in Al-Anon, when they start, are either very angry with God or refuse to believe that there is one. They struggle with turning over control to a Higher Power. I've been a Christian all my life, but in the last six years, have developed an especially close relationship with God so when I read the steps that refer specifically to a Higher Power, I feel like, "I got this." As usual, I got this wrong.
"The basic spiritual principle introduced in Step Two suggests that there is a Power greater than we are that provides hope for sanity, whether we are living with active alcoholism or not. Step Two reaffirms that we may be powerless, but we are not helpless, and we are not alone. "
Paths to Recovery: Al-Anon's Steps, Traditions, and Concepts, p. 18
The concept of a Higher Power is not a point of debate. It is not about whether there is a God, or why He allows bad things to happen. It is about believing that there is something MORE, something bigger out there that can make things better. That we are not alone in this struggle. It is about hope.
This chapter continues on, to invite those who cannot or refuse to bring God into their walk.
"Some of us reject religion of any kind and call ourselves either agnostics or atheists. It is important to hear that, whether we practice a particular religion or not, all of us are welcome in Al-Anon. Yet, when we approach Step Two, we may suspect that a group ideology will be revealed, and we will be forced to conform or leave. Instead the group's members turn us toward defining our own idea of a Higher Power, and we come to believe that such a Power could exist and might help us."
Paths to Recovery: Al-Anon's Steps, Traditions, and Concepts, p. 18
I LOVE THIS. All are welcome, no matter where you're at in your experience or what you believe. We do not have to go through this struggle alone. We have hope.
Monday, September 12, 2011
she's doing really really well
I realized that I have not talked about how my daughter is doing for several weeks now.
She is doing REALLY REALLY WELL!
She is very eager to leave Partial treatment and live at home. She'll be starting an online high school program and hopes to finish high school in two years instead of three. We're talking about enrolling her in drama and music classes (her two loves). She is teaching me about food exchanges, the eating program she learned in the Eating Disorder program, and we will eat according to her plan together.
She is full of hope and excitement for the future and I love her enthusiasm. It's like having my daughter back but only better.
Thank-you God for wonderful people and the treatment programs that have allowed my daughter to become a better version of herself.
She is doing REALLY REALLY WELL!
She is very eager to leave Partial treatment and live at home. She'll be starting an online high school program and hopes to finish high school in two years instead of three. We're talking about enrolling her in drama and music classes (her two loves). She is teaching me about food exchanges, the eating program she learned in the Eating Disorder program, and we will eat according to her plan together.
She is full of hope and excitement for the future and I love her enthusiasm. It's like having my daughter back but only better.
Thank-you God for wonderful people and the treatment programs that have allowed my daughter to become a better version of herself.
my room is a mess
I realized a long time ago that my bedroom is a physical representation of how things are in my life. And it's a mess right now.
My daughter was stepped down from Residential treatment last Tuesday to Partial. In Partial treatment, you go to the treatment center eight hours a day, six days a week. (For more information about how the mental health system works, see this posting.) The treatment center is about 50 miles from my home and with traffic, can take three hours one way. After the first day of driving out there to pick her up, I knew this was not going to work. So I packed up and stayed in a hotel out near the center for four days. We are hoping to step her down to IOP (Intensive Outpatient Program) tomorrow, which is three hours a day, three days a week and, hopefully, at a facility a bit closer to my home.
During the month or so that my daughter was in residential treatment, life returned to "normal" for me. Actually quieter than normal since my son is no longer here during the week. I finally cleaned up my room and closet, paid the huge stack of bills that had been sitting untouched since all this started, even finished a couple of projects that I had not been able to get to before. I did not feel the need to go to Al Anon meetings and stopped reading my daily meditations. And I stopped blogging.
Both kids were home this weekend, the first time in a month. My bedroom has become our "hub." We watch our Saturday night movie in here while eating pizza, as evidenced by dishes left behind. My daughter has been working on some craft projects at my coffee table and all the supplies are still out. Laundry is mounded on my bed, waiting to be folded. File folders that I ransacked earlier in the week are piled high on my desk.
My room is a mess, and not for negative reasons, but it is still a mess. It still needs to be cleaned up.
Today, while my daughter is gone most of the day for her last Partial treatment day, I will work on cleaning up my room both physically and metaphorically. As I clean up after my kids, I will think about how to teach them the discipline to clean up after themselves. And as I put away the laundry and the files, I will work on a plan to bring discipline back into my own life.
Time to establish a new "normal."
My daughter was stepped down from Residential treatment last Tuesday to Partial. In Partial treatment, you go to the treatment center eight hours a day, six days a week. (For more information about how the mental health system works, see this posting.) The treatment center is about 50 miles from my home and with traffic, can take three hours one way. After the first day of driving out there to pick her up, I knew this was not going to work. So I packed up and stayed in a hotel out near the center for four days. We are hoping to step her down to IOP (Intensive Outpatient Program) tomorrow, which is three hours a day, three days a week and, hopefully, at a facility a bit closer to my home.
During the month or so that my daughter was in residential treatment, life returned to "normal" for me. Actually quieter than normal since my son is no longer here during the week. I finally cleaned up my room and closet, paid the huge stack of bills that had been sitting untouched since all this started, even finished a couple of projects that I had not been able to get to before. I did not feel the need to go to Al Anon meetings and stopped reading my daily meditations. And I stopped blogging.
Both kids were home this weekend, the first time in a month. My bedroom has become our "hub." We watch our Saturday night movie in here while eating pizza, as evidenced by dishes left behind. My daughter has been working on some craft projects at my coffee table and all the supplies are still out. Laundry is mounded on my bed, waiting to be folded. File folders that I ransacked earlier in the week are piled high on my desk.
My room is a mess, and not for negative reasons, but it is still a mess. It still needs to be cleaned up.
Today, while my daughter is gone most of the day for her last Partial treatment day, I will work on cleaning up my room both physically and metaphorically. As I clean up after my kids, I will think about how to teach them the discipline to clean up after themselves. And as I put away the laundry and the files, I will work on a plan to bring discipline back into my own life.
Time to establish a new "normal."
Wednesday, August 31, 2011
all quiet on the home front
Hard to believe it's been more than a week since I posted last. School has started and my son is living with his dad during the week, coming to my house only on the weekends. My daughter is finishing up her second week at the Eating Disorder house. I haven't gone to any Al-anon meetings lately and have not read the daily devotionals for several days now. It's like I am in limbo, waiting for whatever comes next.
Last Sunday I went to visit my daughter and since she was allowed to leave the house for the afternoon, we saw the movie, "The Help." Charming film. Weird though, in a way, because we couldn't go out to eat. She plans out her menu everyday and is not allowed to stray from it. I never realized how integral eating out was to our relationship.
Today I'm headed over there to have lunch with her and the therapist. The therapeutic purpose of this meal is to learn to recognize the symptoms of eating disorders. (She'll eat off her meal plan, I need to bring a lunch. Again, very weird that we will not be sharing the same food.)
I have no idea how long insurance will continue to approve her stay at this house. I am toying with the idea of pulling her out of residential and into a day program but not sure why. I guess I am reaching the point where I am ready to move out of limbo.
Last Sunday I went to visit my daughter and since she was allowed to leave the house for the afternoon, we saw the movie, "The Help." Charming film. Weird though, in a way, because we couldn't go out to eat. She plans out her menu everyday and is not allowed to stray from it. I never realized how integral eating out was to our relationship.
Today I'm headed over there to have lunch with her and the therapist. The therapeutic purpose of this meal is to learn to recognize the symptoms of eating disorders. (She'll eat off her meal plan, I need to bring a lunch. Again, very weird that we will not be sharing the same food.)
I have no idea how long insurance will continue to approve her stay at this house. I am toying with the idea of pulling her out of residential and into a day program but not sure why. I guess I am reaching the point where I am ready to move out of limbo.
Tuesday, August 23, 2011
leaving it in God's hands
There are only a handful of people in my religious community and my daughter's academic community who know about what is going on. One question that has come up frequently from people who are associated with the school is, "Who did she do drugs with?"
I struggle with what my answer should be. In the letter that my daughter wrote me when she entered rehab, she named names. Some of the kids are still attending that school. I assume the "right" thing to do is to turn over the names to people in authority and yet, something holds me back.
When I first learned about the drug use, I was desperate to protect my daughter; to make sure she never associated with her suppliers ever again. And so I asked her who she used with and promised never to tell anyone who they were. She gave me one name at that time, of a guy who was not returning to the school. I found that highly suspicious. In the letter the list is much longer.
On the one hand, I am reluctant to tell anyone because of the promise I made her, even though it is one I made in desperation. I feel like, if we are to have any hope of building trust, I must keep my word. On the other hand, I am fearful of what people's motivations are for asking me for the names or what they will do with the information.
My pastors and one of my closest friends who happens to work at the school have asked me to share the names so that they can help in their professional capacities. I believe these are the people who should know and I will encourage my daughter to tell them, herself, one day.
I struggle when other people ask, especially other parents. I understand the desire to want to protect your child. If someone knew my daughter was using, I would have wanted them to tell me. And yet, I still hold back.
I hate the thought that this might become gossip, serving no purpose than to make the gossiper feel self-righteous.
I am fearful that another family will be hurt by well-intentioned but clueless others.
And the last thing I want is to launch a crusader who feels they must now save us poor sinners.
I've decided the best thing for me to do right now is to trust that God will reveal to people what they need to know and when they need to know it. And to follow the Al-Anon principle of anonymity. Drug use is no one's business but that of the user and the people who love them. If God gives me the opportunity to share with the parents of one of the kids on the list, I will, and with no one else.
I struggle with what my answer should be. In the letter that my daughter wrote me when she entered rehab, she named names. Some of the kids are still attending that school. I assume the "right" thing to do is to turn over the names to people in authority and yet, something holds me back.
When I first learned about the drug use, I was desperate to protect my daughter; to make sure she never associated with her suppliers ever again. And so I asked her who she used with and promised never to tell anyone who they were. She gave me one name at that time, of a guy who was not returning to the school. I found that highly suspicious. In the letter the list is much longer.
On the one hand, I am reluctant to tell anyone because of the promise I made her, even though it is one I made in desperation. I feel like, if we are to have any hope of building trust, I must keep my word. On the other hand, I am fearful of what people's motivations are for asking me for the names or what they will do with the information.
My pastors and one of my closest friends who happens to work at the school have asked me to share the names so that they can help in their professional capacities. I believe these are the people who should know and I will encourage my daughter to tell them, herself, one day.
I struggle when other people ask, especially other parents. I understand the desire to want to protect your child. If someone knew my daughter was using, I would have wanted them to tell me. And yet, I still hold back.
I hate the thought that this might become gossip, serving no purpose than to make the gossiper feel self-righteous.
I am fearful that another family will be hurt by well-intentioned but clueless others.
And the last thing I want is to launch a crusader who feels they must now save us poor sinners.
I've decided the best thing for me to do right now is to trust that God will reveal to people what they need to know and when they need to know it. And to follow the Al-Anon principle of anonymity. Drug use is no one's business but that of the user and the people who love them. If God gives me the opportunity to share with the parents of one of the kids on the list, I will, and with no one else.
Monday, August 22, 2011
that the works of God might be displayed
"As he went along, he saw a man blind from birth.
His disciples asked him, 'Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents,
that he was born blind?' "
that he was born blind?' "
John 9:1, 2
It's been a tough weekend. It seems like each day I encountered another person who implied (or maybe I just inferred) that if I had been a better Christian, a better mother, that this would not have happened. I am seeing a pattern here - I only feel bad about myself, question my decisions, when I am interacting with religious people.
By the time Sunday evening rolled around, all I wanted to do was curl up in bed and pull the covers over my head. Fortunately I had made plans with a good friend, who ended up spending the evening lifting me out of the self-pitying funk that I was in. (Ironically, this person does not identify with any religion, which also fits the pattern...)
“ 'Neither this man nor his parents sinned,' said Jesus,
'but this happened so that the works of God might be displayed in him.' "
John 9:3
Thank You, God, for sending your Son to be our example.
And thank you for all the wonderful friends, religious and not, who have shown me nothing but love and support.
Saturday, August 20, 2011
sigh...
Yesterday we moved my daughter out of the Dual Diagnosis program and into the Eating Disorder program. I had hoped that her ED was in early enough stages that DD would be enough to address her issues but sadly, that is not the case.
More uncertainty on the horizon...
More uncertainty on the horizon...
Thursday, August 18, 2011
a word (or 900) about shame
On Sunday I went to visit my daughter for the first time since she was admitted to Rehab. She is so full of hope, it was wonderful to see. She was talking about finishing up high school in two years, maybe taking some college classes and working on a singing career. She told me things she had learned about drug addiction, particularly to hard drugs like cocaine and heroine. She had experienced things that she was afraid to tell me about before (like having visual and auditory hallucinations during withdrawal) but that she learned were normal. And she never wants to go through those things again.
She is also learning about eating disorders. Her therapist told her that kids who develop ED have had control issues starting from a very young age, things that happen when they were so young and are buried so deep that sometimes they never uncover them. My daughter talked about when we first moved into our own home without her father (she was just a couple of months shy of turning nine). I used to travel about one week a month for work and my daughter would call me several times a day when I was gone. She told me that she used to be so afraid when I travelled that I wouldn't come home, that I would die in an accident or plane crash.
I suppose I should have realized how stressed my daughter was when she was younger, but I was wrapped up in my own issues and did not see what was happening. I thought that, because I was leaving her in the care of her father and her grandparents whenever I went out of town, that she was fine. Plus, she was always such an easy child, even as a baby. I used to joke about how she would switch so easily between breastfeeding and bottle, as compared to her brother who was much more difficult. He refused to go back and forth between feeding methods so we switched to just bottle-feeding when he was just two weeks.
My daughter was not a child who threw tantrums; the "terrible twos" never happened with her. But during those last few years of my marriage, when things were at their absolute worst, she threw a couple of major, screaming, throwing herself on the floor, kicking tantrums. The first was when she was in first grade, at school (while I was on a business trip). When her teacher asked her why she was so upset (she was probably 5 at the time), my daughter replied that she was "afraid her mom wasn't going to come home." When the teacher asked if she was afraid something would happen to me, my daughter replied, no, that she was just afraid I wouldn't come home. The second tantrum happened about a year later, when the kids and I took a trip at Christmastime without their father for the first time. She had no recollection of either of these incidents.
We talked about what happened and I explained that I didn't think the problem was that I was gone so much but that I was so unhappy during her early years. When she was about 5 or 6, she overheard me talking with a friend on the phone and I laughed out loud at something the other person said. When I hung up, my daughter marveled at hearing me laugh out loud; she had never heard that before. And when I watch videos of myself from when the kids were young, I am mainly a solemn presence in the background, interacting only when someone speaks to me directly.
At the last Al-Anon meeting that I went to, the leader chose shame as the topic for the evening. A few parents (who have young children) shared what life was like before they came to Al-Anon, when they were consumed with trying to control the adult alcoholic in their life. They spoke with great shame and regret about how they were not present and available for their children emotionally. On the flip side, when adult children of alcoholics talk, they often share about how they felt like everything that went wrong was their own fault. That if they had just behaved better, their parent would not have drunk or (or did drugs or let life spiral out of control).
I think that shame and guilt are useless feelings, tools of the devil to keep us from where we could be. They lead to embarassment and the need to keep secrets. As my daughter told me about her fears and wondered aloud why she had control issues, I suppose I could have stayed silent. Let shame and embarrassment about being such a sad and absent mother (both physically and emotionallly) keep me from telling her what she needed to hear. But truthfully, since I am neither ashamed nor do I feel guilty, it came out very naturally, very matter-of-factly. It's just how things were back then and there is nothing I can do to go back and change them.
I think I saw a light come on in my daughter's eyes when she realized that there were things going on that she didn't understand, that had nothing to do with her, but that she took responsibility for and internalized at that young age.
We're having our first therapy session together on Friday and my daughter asked that I tell the therapist all that we talked about, in case she didn't remember to bring them up herself. And I will.
She is also learning about eating disorders. Her therapist told her that kids who develop ED have had control issues starting from a very young age, things that happen when they were so young and are buried so deep that sometimes they never uncover them. My daughter talked about when we first moved into our own home without her father (she was just a couple of months shy of turning nine). I used to travel about one week a month for work and my daughter would call me several times a day when I was gone. She told me that she used to be so afraid when I travelled that I wouldn't come home, that I would die in an accident or plane crash.
I suppose I should have realized how stressed my daughter was when she was younger, but I was wrapped up in my own issues and did not see what was happening. I thought that, because I was leaving her in the care of her father and her grandparents whenever I went out of town, that she was fine. Plus, she was always such an easy child, even as a baby. I used to joke about how she would switch so easily between breastfeeding and bottle, as compared to her brother who was much more difficult. He refused to go back and forth between feeding methods so we switched to just bottle-feeding when he was just two weeks.
My daughter was not a child who threw tantrums; the "terrible twos" never happened with her. But during those last few years of my marriage, when things were at their absolute worst, she threw a couple of major, screaming, throwing herself on the floor, kicking tantrums. The first was when she was in first grade, at school (while I was on a business trip). When her teacher asked her why she was so upset (she was probably 5 at the time), my daughter replied that she was "afraid her mom wasn't going to come home." When the teacher asked if she was afraid something would happen to me, my daughter replied, no, that she was just afraid I wouldn't come home. The second tantrum happened about a year later, when the kids and I took a trip at Christmastime without their father for the first time. She had no recollection of either of these incidents.
We talked about what happened and I explained that I didn't think the problem was that I was gone so much but that I was so unhappy during her early years. When she was about 5 or 6, she overheard me talking with a friend on the phone and I laughed out loud at something the other person said. When I hung up, my daughter marveled at hearing me laugh out loud; she had never heard that before. And when I watch videos of myself from when the kids were young, I am mainly a solemn presence in the background, interacting only when someone speaks to me directly.
At the last Al-Anon meeting that I went to, the leader chose shame as the topic for the evening. A few parents (who have young children) shared what life was like before they came to Al-Anon, when they were consumed with trying to control the adult alcoholic in their life. They spoke with great shame and regret about how they were not present and available for their children emotionally. On the flip side, when adult children of alcoholics talk, they often share about how they felt like everything that went wrong was their own fault. That if they had just behaved better, their parent would not have drunk or (or did drugs or let life spiral out of control).
I think that shame and guilt are useless feelings, tools of the devil to keep us from where we could be. They lead to embarassment and the need to keep secrets. As my daughter told me about her fears and wondered aloud why she had control issues, I suppose I could have stayed silent. Let shame and embarrassment about being such a sad and absent mother (both physically and emotionallly) keep me from telling her what she needed to hear. But truthfully, since I am neither ashamed nor do I feel guilty, it came out very naturally, very matter-of-factly. It's just how things were back then and there is nothing I can do to go back and change them.
I think I saw a light come on in my daughter's eyes when she realized that there were things going on that she didn't understand, that had nothing to do with her, but that she took responsibility for and internalized at that young age.
We're having our first therapy session together on Friday and my daughter asked that I tell the therapist all that we talked about, in case she didn't remember to bring them up herself. And I will.
Sunday, August 14, 2011
ignorance is bliss
Someone posted a comment on Facebook about a tv documentary on the horrors of doing drugs and suggested that all kids who are thinking about experimenting with drugs should watch it. I started to post a (somewhat angry) reply and decided that that was not the right place to vent my anger. So I am doing it here.
I don't believe drug use (and addiction) is a choice. I also don't believe it's a disease. (So now I've probably offended both ends of the spectrum on this topic.) Calling it a "choice" implies that the person is just doing this to piss you off. That they could stop if they wanted to. Calling it a disease like cancer or Alzheimers implies that it strikes anyone at anytime and we have no control over it; it removes all responsibility from the person who is using. Neither of these descriptions fit my newfound experience.
I believe it is a symptom. It's like why a person with a cold coughs or a person with osteoporosis breaks bones easily. It is a symptom that there is something terribly wrong in your life; that you do not have healthy coping skills or outlets for your pain; that you feel you have no control over the world around you and so you change the only thing you think you can which is your mind and state of consciousness. It is also why slogans such as "Just say no" and tv shows that try to scare you straight don't work. The only way to get better is to do the work: Go to meetings, go to therapy, talk about your pain, seek the support of others who have gone through the same thing and made it to the other side.
And to my young Facebook friend, I hope that your life goes smoothly, that you remain forever ignorant about what it means to have an addict in your life.
I don't believe drug use (and addiction) is a choice. I also don't believe it's a disease. (So now I've probably offended both ends of the spectrum on this topic.) Calling it a "choice" implies that the person is just doing this to piss you off. That they could stop if they wanted to. Calling it a disease like cancer or Alzheimers implies that it strikes anyone at anytime and we have no control over it; it removes all responsibility from the person who is using. Neither of these descriptions fit my newfound experience.
I believe it is a symptom. It's like why a person with a cold coughs or a person with osteoporosis breaks bones easily. It is a symptom that there is something terribly wrong in your life; that you do not have healthy coping skills or outlets for your pain; that you feel you have no control over the world around you and so you change the only thing you think you can which is your mind and state of consciousness. It is also why slogans such as "Just say no" and tv shows that try to scare you straight don't work. The only way to get better is to do the work: Go to meetings, go to therapy, talk about your pain, seek the support of others who have gone through the same thing and made it to the other side.
And to my young Facebook friend, I hope that your life goes smoothly, that you remain forever ignorant about what it means to have an addict in your life.
Saturday, August 13, 2011
understanding the first step
"We admitted that we are powerless over alcohol -
that our lives had become unmanageable."
that our lives had become unmanageable."
AA/Al-Anon Step 1
As I mentioned in a previous post, I am struggling with the First Step. I sit in the Al-Anon meetings and I can see why this is such an important step for other people. Wives are lying for their alcoholic spouses, to their families, to his job, to herself. Parents are spending all their time and energy (and money) trying to get their kids clean. Adults who grew up in alcoholic homes spend their lives trying to gain or maintain control and/or learn to trust another human being and themselves. Their whole life is about covering up and centered on the addict.
None of these people are me. While I admit that I have had to spend a lot of time, energy and money this past month, I have still managed to connect with friends, to write and journal, and to take time for myself. I am managing to keep a cap on my medical costs (thanks in no small part to my health insurance). I feel like I have not gone completely crazy yet. (Although I suppose one of the hallmarks of being crazy is not knowing that you are.)
I've been reading a few paragraphs of Paths to Recovery: Al-Anon's Steps, Traditions, and Concepts every morning. This is a book that explains each of the Steps, Traditions, and Concepts in detail and explains how to work them. I am slowly beginning to understand that Step 1 is so much deeper than the words, on their surface, would lead you believe.
"The first word of the First Step illustrates an important concept to Al-Anon recovery: We are not alone....We who live or have lived with the problem of [addiction] understand as perhaps few others can. We, too, were lonely and frustrated, but in Al-Anon/Alateen we discover that no situation is really hopeless and that it is possible for us to find contentment, and even happiness, whether the [addict] is still [using] or not. Just hearing those words may help us to feel that there is hope for us, too." (p. 7)
This is why you can find an Al-Anon meeting in almost every city, almost every night of the week. There aren't very many parents of addicted teenagers at the Al-Anon meetings that I have attended, but I have really been comforted by the few that I have heard share their stories. Some of the most comforting things I learned were that 1) it is not uncommon for kids to begin using in Junior High because that period of transition is so stressful for them and 2) Most of these parents - loving, involved, concerned, middle class parents like me - did not know or recognize that their kids were using until the problem became so out of control that their child could not hide it anymore and 3) everything I am feeling and going through is exactly what other parents are feeling and going through. Now I truly believe that I am not alone in this.
" [Addiction] is a family disease. This means '...the [addiction] of one member affects the whole family, and all become sick. Why does this happen? Unlike diabetes, [addiction] not only exists inside the body of the [addict], but is a disease of relationships as well. Many of the symptoms of [addiction] are in the behavior of the [addict]. The people who are involved with the [addict] react to his behavior. They try to control it, make up for it, or hide it. They often blame themselves for it and are hurt by it. Eventually they become emotionally disturbed themselves.' (Alateen - Hope for Children of Alcoholics) " p. 8
I see the truth of this paragraph when I look at my relationship with my daughter's father, my ex-husband. I think he and I have argued more in the past month than we did in the nine years we were married. Normally, we get along ok and work together to try to do what is best for the kids. But the issues around her addiction and the decisions about treatment have put us completely at odds with each other.
"In Al-Anon we discover principles that work for us and help us to relate to others. Al-Anon helps us learn new ways to have healthy relationships in all areas of our lives. Step One reminds us of our proper relationship with others - we are powerless over them. It places us in correct relationship with ourselves - when we try to control others, we lose the ability to manage our own lives. Step One is the true beginning of our path to recovery." (p. 10)
I am powerless over my daughter.
I am powerless over my ex-husband.
I am powerless over addiction.
When I spend my time and energy trying to change those three things, I do not have time and energy for those things that I do have control (mainly myself) and *MY* life becomes unmanageable. It is now, in this new light, that I take the First Step.
Friday, August 12, 2011
maybe i should have bought a card from hallmark...
So now that I know my daughter will be staying in Residential for a few more weeks, I decided to send her a card. I like making cards so I thought I'd make one out of a photo that I took a couple of weekends ago. A darling puppy came wandering into our house through our open garage door and I snapped some photos of him, our dog and my daughter. This is one of her favorite pics.
The Center reads all mail that comes in for the residents and will not pass on anything that is inappropriate. I sure hope they give her my card.
The Center reads all mail that comes in for the residents and will not pass on anything that is inappropriate. I sure hope they give her my card.
Thursday, August 11, 2011
its a good day!
I just received some great news!
A couple of days ago I found out that insurance denied our request to have my daughter in a Residential treatment program but approved a Partial Hospitalization program. I could keep her in Residential but would have to pay the difference between Residiential and Partial which was several hundred dollars a day. I was heartsick about having to pull her out after just one day especially since things were going so well.
But after talking with the program's finance people, they have offered me a tremendous discount that allows me to keep my daughter in the program at a daily rate that I can afford.
So for today, I am grateful and ECSTATIC!
A couple of days ago I found out that insurance denied our request to have my daughter in a Residential treatment program but approved a Partial Hospitalization program. I could keep her in Residential but would have to pay the difference between Residiential and Partial which was several hundred dollars a day. I was heartsick about having to pull her out after just one day especially since things were going so well.
But after talking with the program's finance people, they have offered me a tremendous discount that allows me to keep my daughter in the program at a daily rate that I can afford.
So for today, I am grateful and ECSTATIC!
another one of those "when the time is right" lessons
I asked a woman to be my sponsor on Tuesday but it's not working out.
I don't fully understand the sponsor relationship. From what I understand, your sponsor is the person that not only answers questions for you, but provides guidance and instruction when you are struggling. I have been told that you want to find a sponsor in Al Anon relatively quickly and how you choose one is that you sit in meetings and listen, and when someone says something that you can really relate to, then you might want to ask them to be your sponsor.
And in my mind I thought, REALLY? That's all it takes? Someone just "says something" and you're supposed to initiate this really difficult and intimate relationship with that person? But I'm trying to work this program as I understand it so I asked a woman that I met at Tuesday's meeting to be my sponsor after about 3 minutes of conversation. She is a lovely person. When I talk with her, I am impressed with her confidence, calmness and assertiveness. She has 22 years in the program and is mother of a teenager. She is everything I thought I wanted in a sponsor.
When you are beginning a sponsor relationship, you're supposed to call that person everyday for the first 30 days so she and I talked yesterday and today. I realize now that I got exactly what I thought I was supposed to have. Her attitudes and opinions are exactly the same as the religious conservatives in my life that I have to engage with on a daily basis but that I try to distance myself from emotionally. It's just when she says those words, she couches them in "Program" lingo as opposed to religious lingo. Don't get me wrong, she lives the principles and advice that she gives me; there is no hypocrisy here. But she "expects" that I will eventually get to the place that she is at, and to me right now, it feels like it is taking me back to the place where I grew up and to which I hope never to return.
One thing I am learning through this whole process is to trust myself, that I should not - cannot - do anything unless I feel ready to do it. I was not ready to initiate the sponsor relationship and only did so because that is what I thought I was "supposed" to do. When the time is right, and the right sponsor comes along, I trust that I will know it.
I don't fully understand the sponsor relationship. From what I understand, your sponsor is the person that not only answers questions for you, but provides guidance and instruction when you are struggling. I have been told that you want to find a sponsor in Al Anon relatively quickly and how you choose one is that you sit in meetings and listen, and when someone says something that you can really relate to, then you might want to ask them to be your sponsor.
And in my mind I thought, REALLY? That's all it takes? Someone just "says something" and you're supposed to initiate this really difficult and intimate relationship with that person? But I'm trying to work this program as I understand it so I asked a woman that I met at Tuesday's meeting to be my sponsor after about 3 minutes of conversation. She is a lovely person. When I talk with her, I am impressed with her confidence, calmness and assertiveness. She has 22 years in the program and is mother of a teenager. She is everything I thought I wanted in a sponsor.
When you are beginning a sponsor relationship, you're supposed to call that person everyday for the first 30 days so she and I talked yesterday and today. I realize now that I got exactly what I thought I was supposed to have. Her attitudes and opinions are exactly the same as the religious conservatives in my life that I have to engage with on a daily basis but that I try to distance myself from emotionally. It's just when she says those words, she couches them in "Program" lingo as opposed to religious lingo. Don't get me wrong, she lives the principles and advice that she gives me; there is no hypocrisy here. But she "expects" that I will eventually get to the place that she is at, and to me right now, it feels like it is taking me back to the place where I grew up and to which I hope never to return.
One thing I am learning through this whole process is to trust myself, that I should not - cannot - do anything unless I feel ready to do it. I was not ready to initiate the sponsor relationship and only did so because that is what I thought I was "supposed" to do. When the time is right, and the right sponsor comes along, I trust that I will know it.
Wednesday, August 10, 2011
using the 9th step to my advantage
In Al Anon, they use basically the same 12 Steps as Alcoholics Anonymous. You begin with step 1 and you go in order, only moving on when you have completely finished up the previous step.
I'm still struggling with step 1, ""We admitted we were powerless over alcohol - that our lives had become unmanageable." My life is in total chaos, but I think I am managing just fine, thank-you very much.
In my quest to find my "home" meeting (the meeting that I attend most regularly and associate myself with), I went to a meeting the other night that focuses on the 12 Steps. (Many of the meetings have themes. For example, it may be a book study or the intended target group is adult children of alcoholics.) They were on step 9 that night, "Made direct amends to such people wherever possible, except when to do so would injure them or others." While most members who shared spoke about making amends to people in their lives, one woman talked about making amends to herself; she began taking better care of herself.
I thought, Now that my daughter is in a safe place, I can make amends to myself as well. I took two days off work and am busy trying to make up for a month of neglect.
The first thing I did was clean my daughter's things out MY room and put them back into her room. When I caught her on the computer late at night, I took her doors off her bedroom and her closet. When I found out about the Eating Disorders, I took the door off her bathroom and hung up a curtain instead. When I found out she was coming home from the hospital, I packed up almost everything in her room (into those office, file folder boxes, 20 in all). All these things needed to be put somewhere and since my garage is already full and overflowing, I ended up moving them into my bedroom.
I work from home and my desk is in my bedroom, however, it isolates me from the rest of the house. When my daughter came home, I decided to move my desk out into the loft so that I could be more aware of what was going on with her and my son. While I accomplished exactly that, I also could hear every noise, every conversation that was going on everywhere because the loft is centrally located in the house. It DROVE ME CRAZY.
I tried noise cancelling headphones but they gave me a headache. When I had a teleconference, I had to ask everyone ahead of time to not watch TV and to keep the noise down. I record videos for work but there was no way I could do that in the loft. Occasionally I would take my laptop into my bedroom and try to work using a wireless connection, but I need a large screen due to the nature of the work I do. Yesterday I spent three hours moving my desk and computers back into my bedroom. I am especially ecstatic to have doors and to be able to shut out the rest of the house.
And finally I have started exercising everyday and eating in a way that works for my body.
At first we were told my daughter could not exercise at all due to the ED but then they said she could exercise half an hour a day. So we would take walks and occasionally go to the gym. But now I have begun swimming and am enjoying the silence and rhythmic deep breathing that go with being under water.
When your child has ED, you avoid all mention of dieting and not wanting to eat this or that. When I planned meals, I tried to make things my daughter liked and I knew she couldn't resist. The problem is, I can't resist them either! When my daughter cooked, I always ate what she made, which frequently included homemade pasta and desserts. Now that neither kid is home, I am back to eating very few refined carbs, enjoying mostly proteins, whole grains, salads and fruit.
Tomorrow I go back to work and I'm kind of glad. Two days off was just what I needed to recharge my battery.
I'm still struggling with step 1, ""We admitted we were powerless over alcohol - that our lives had become unmanageable." My life is in total chaos, but I think I am managing just fine, thank-you very much.
In my quest to find my "home" meeting (the meeting that I attend most regularly and associate myself with), I went to a meeting the other night that focuses on the 12 Steps. (Many of the meetings have themes. For example, it may be a book study or the intended target group is adult children of alcoholics.) They were on step 9 that night, "Made direct amends to such people wherever possible, except when to do so would injure them or others." While most members who shared spoke about making amends to people in their lives, one woman talked about making amends to herself; she began taking better care of herself.
I thought, Now that my daughter is in a safe place, I can make amends to myself as well. I took two days off work and am busy trying to make up for a month of neglect.
The first thing I did was clean my daughter's things out MY room and put them back into her room. When I caught her on the computer late at night, I took her doors off her bedroom and her closet. When I found out about the Eating Disorders, I took the door off her bathroom and hung up a curtain instead. When I found out she was coming home from the hospital, I packed up almost everything in her room (into those office, file folder boxes, 20 in all). All these things needed to be put somewhere and since my garage is already full and overflowing, I ended up moving them into my bedroom.
I work from home and my desk is in my bedroom, however, it isolates me from the rest of the house. When my daughter came home, I decided to move my desk out into the loft so that I could be more aware of what was going on with her and my son. While I accomplished exactly that, I also could hear every noise, every conversation that was going on everywhere because the loft is centrally located in the house. It DROVE ME CRAZY.
I tried noise cancelling headphones but they gave me a headache. When I had a teleconference, I had to ask everyone ahead of time to not watch TV and to keep the noise down. I record videos for work but there was no way I could do that in the loft. Occasionally I would take my laptop into my bedroom and try to work using a wireless connection, but I need a large screen due to the nature of the work I do. Yesterday I spent three hours moving my desk and computers back into my bedroom. I am especially ecstatic to have doors and to be able to shut out the rest of the house.
And finally I have started exercising everyday and eating in a way that works for my body.
At first we were told my daughter could not exercise at all due to the ED but then they said she could exercise half an hour a day. So we would take walks and occasionally go to the gym. But now I have begun swimming and am enjoying the silence and rhythmic deep breathing that go with being under water.
When your child has ED, you avoid all mention of dieting and not wanting to eat this or that. When I planned meals, I tried to make things my daughter liked and I knew she couldn't resist. The problem is, I can't resist them either! When my daughter cooked, I always ate what she made, which frequently included homemade pasta and desserts. Now that neither kid is home, I am back to eating very few refined carbs, enjoying mostly proteins, whole grains, salads and fruit.
Tomorrow I go back to work and I'm kind of glad. Two days off was just what I needed to recharge my battery.
metaphor for my faith
This morning I woke up feeling 180 degrees from where I was yesterday when I wrote that I was "refreshed and energized." I got some disappointing news yesterday evening and I had been stressed ever since, trying to make difficult decisions. It never ceases to amaze me how life can change without even a moment's notice.
I decided to walk my dog to clear my head. Where we walk is relatively flat but there is a hill that is the toughest part of our daily hike. As I was huffing and puffing up the hill, a tiny, wiry grandmother whizzed past me on a bicycle that was way too small for her and I could tell from her muscular calves that this was a routine ride for her. She was wearing a small, colorful backpack that clearly was designed for a young child.
Normally I wouldn't think much about a bicyclist going by but just after she passed me, a small face popped out from in front of her body. It was a boy who looked to be about 5 years old, sitting on the front half of the seat, straining his neck so that he could see my dog for as long as possible, smiling from ear to ear. There is a school at the top of the hill and I imagine this is how this little guy is chauffered there every day. The whole image was soooo cute, it made me laugh out loud.
And I was suddenly flooded with a sense of peace and relief. I realized that this is exactly my life right now. It is up to me to meet my commitments, go about living my life but I am secure in the arms of my grandmother-God. She will carry my backpack for me and she has the strength and willpower (and the wheels) to carry us both up and over whatever hill is in our way, to get me where I need to be. My only responsibility right now is to enjoy the ride.
I decided to walk my dog to clear my head. Where we walk is relatively flat but there is a hill that is the toughest part of our daily hike. As I was huffing and puffing up the hill, a tiny, wiry grandmother whizzed past me on a bicycle that was way too small for her and I could tell from her muscular calves that this was a routine ride for her. She was wearing a small, colorful backpack that clearly was designed for a young child.
Normally I wouldn't think much about a bicyclist going by but just after she passed me, a small face popped out from in front of her body. It was a boy who looked to be about 5 years old, sitting on the front half of the seat, straining his neck so that he could see my dog for as long as possible, smiling from ear to ear. There is a school at the top of the hill and I imagine this is how this little guy is chauffered there every day. The whole image was soooo cute, it made me laugh out loud.
And I was suddenly flooded with a sense of peace and relief. I realized that this is exactly my life right now. It is up to me to meet my commitments, go about living my life but I am secure in the arms of my grandmother-God. She will carry my backpack for me and she has the strength and willpower (and the wheels) to carry us both up and over whatever hill is in our way, to get me where I need to be. My only responsibility right now is to enjoy the ride.
Tuesday, August 9, 2011
lest you think I am a cold-hearted b****
After re-reading my last posting, I thought, "Geez, I sound like a cold-hearted b****." I feel like I should give a little background.
I was terrified at the thought of my daughter coming home.
Before she was hospitalized (and before I knew about the drug activity), my daughter had been difficult, to say the least. She was sullen, sneaking around, not doing her chores or homework. She had hacked into my laptop and was skyping with a boy late at night doing God-knows-what. I was constantly having to get on her about not making us late for appointments. I had asked her to try to find a job but she didn't. She just sat and watched tv most days so I cancelled all but the most basic broadcast channels. Then she spent all her time in her room listening to music and sitting around. She raided her savings account (money she absolutely was not supposed to touch) and bought a disposable cell phone and was spending time talking and texting when she said she was doing other things. And when she would get angry, she would storm out of the house (but she always returned 10-30 minutes later.)
I dreaded the thought of her coming home from the hopsital. I could just imagine her sneaking out, hooking up with her drug friends (and I had no idea who they might be), bringing drugs home. I dreaded the arguments, having to watch her sit around, and being ignored when I tried to get her to meet her responsibilities. Child Protective Services (CPS) had opened up a case on us based on things she told the Emergency Dept. when she was admitted for the suicide attempt and a social worker had already been to my home once. The last thing I wanted to was to have an open and on-going case with CPS as a neglectful parent. I felt helpless.
When I found out my daughter was being discharged, I called the CPS social worker and I think he was surprised to hear from me. (I suspect most parents try to avoid dealing with CPS again once they have been investigated but that's just speculation on my part.) I asked him, legally, what is my responsibility if my daughter a) does drugs , b) runs away, or c) tries to hurt herself. The answer on all counts was to call the police, make sure they file a report, and let them take her away.
Legal issues aside, I have the privilege of providing a home for my parents. They live with me. If it were just me, I could deal with losing my house, bankruptcy and whatever else came my way. The children's father makes a decent living and would have been able to take over their care full-time. But my parents are retired, on a limited income and buying or even renting a new home is not an option for them. And while I have siblings who would welcome our parents into their homes, they live with me now.
Finally, I don't believe teenagers can anticipate the full consequences of their actions. I felt my daughter needed to understand that her doing drugs was not just about her. I wanted to spell things out for her so that they were crystal clear.
Thankfully, none of those things were necessary during the two or so weeks between discharge from the hospital and admission to the Residential treatment center.
I was terrified at the thought of my daughter coming home.
Before she was hospitalized (and before I knew about the drug activity), my daughter had been difficult, to say the least. She was sullen, sneaking around, not doing her chores or homework. She had hacked into my laptop and was skyping with a boy late at night doing God-knows-what. I was constantly having to get on her about not making us late for appointments. I had asked her to try to find a job but she didn't. She just sat and watched tv most days so I cancelled all but the most basic broadcast channels. Then she spent all her time in her room listening to music and sitting around. She raided her savings account (money she absolutely was not supposed to touch) and bought a disposable cell phone and was spending time talking and texting when she said she was doing other things. And when she would get angry, she would storm out of the house (but she always returned 10-30 minutes later.)
I dreaded the thought of her coming home from the hopsital. I could just imagine her sneaking out, hooking up with her drug friends (and I had no idea who they might be), bringing drugs home. I dreaded the arguments, having to watch her sit around, and being ignored when I tried to get her to meet her responsibilities. Child Protective Services (CPS) had opened up a case on us based on things she told the Emergency Dept. when she was admitted for the suicide attempt and a social worker had already been to my home once. The last thing I wanted to was to have an open and on-going case with CPS as a neglectful parent. I felt helpless.
When I found out my daughter was being discharged, I called the CPS social worker and I think he was surprised to hear from me. (I suspect most parents try to avoid dealing with CPS again once they have been investigated but that's just speculation on my part.) I asked him, legally, what is my responsibility if my daughter a) does drugs , b) runs away, or c) tries to hurt herself. The answer on all counts was to call the police, make sure they file a report, and let them take her away.
Legal issues aside, I have the privilege of providing a home for my parents. They live with me. If it were just me, I could deal with losing my house, bankruptcy and whatever else came my way. The children's father makes a decent living and would have been able to take over their care full-time. But my parents are retired, on a limited income and buying or even renting a new home is not an option for them. And while I have siblings who would welcome our parents into their homes, they live with me now.
Finally, I don't believe teenagers can anticipate the full consequences of their actions. I felt my daughter needed to understand that her doing drugs was not just about her. I wanted to spell things out for her so that they were crystal clear.
Thankfully, none of those things were necessary during the two or so weeks between discharge from the hospital and admission to the Residential treatment center.
sending a clear message
Last night I went to an Al Anon meeting and one of the members shared how she had lost her house because she spent so much money on rehab for her son. It reminded me of a tough conversation I had with my daughter.
*** I've debated writing about this and am still not sure I should. When I started this blog, I decided I wanted to be honest and open about what we are going through. I don't put this out there as some kind of example and I'm sure people will think I was horribly wrong for what I said. But I'm putting it out there anyway.***
The day that I picked up my daughter when she was discharged from the hospital, I said "Things are very different in the house now." She replied, "I'm sure they are."
I told her,
You have a clean slate with me beginning today but make no mistake:
I find out you are using drugs again and I will turn you over to the police myself.
If I find drugs in my house, I will call the police and turn them and you over and let them take you away.
I will not allow myself to be arrested because you use drugs.
If you get arrested for drug use, I will not bail you out nor will I hire a lawyer for you.
If you end up needing hospitalization again, you will not be going back to a nice cushy private hospital. I will drop you in the county system so fast and leave you there.
If you step outside the front door without me or another responsible adult with you, I will call the police and report you as a runaway and let them take you.
I am not going to go broke trying to keep you clean.
I am not going to lose my house and become homeless because of you. I am not going to let [your grandparents] and your brother become homeless because of you.
I have rules in my house and if you do not follow them, I don't know what I will do but there will be grave consequences. I do not like to make idle threats, which is why I cannot say what I will do, but there will be consequences and you won't like them.
I love you and as long as you are doing what you are supposed to be doing, which is going to treatment, going to meetings, actually working the 12 steps, I will keep a roof over your head, drive you where you need to go, and pay your medical bills.
But the moment you stop going, the moment you stop participating and working on getting better, I will stop paying the bills. You can find another place to live.
And when you decide to become clean again, and abide by my rules, then you will always be welcome back home.
*** I've debated writing about this and am still not sure I should. When I started this blog, I decided I wanted to be honest and open about what we are going through. I don't put this out there as some kind of example and I'm sure people will think I was horribly wrong for what I said. But I'm putting it out there anyway.***
The day that I picked up my daughter when she was discharged from the hospital, I said "Things are very different in the house now." She replied, "I'm sure they are."
I told her,
You have a clean slate with me beginning today but make no mistake:
I find out you are using drugs again and I will turn you over to the police myself.
If I find drugs in my house, I will call the police and turn them and you over and let them take you away.
I will not allow myself to be arrested because you use drugs.
If you get arrested for drug use, I will not bail you out nor will I hire a lawyer for you.
If you end up needing hospitalization again, you will not be going back to a nice cushy private hospital. I will drop you in the county system so fast and leave you there.
If you step outside the front door without me or another responsible adult with you, I will call the police and report you as a runaway and let them take you.
I am not going to go broke trying to keep you clean.
I am not going to lose my house and become homeless because of you. I am not going to let [your grandparents] and your brother become homeless because of you.
I have rules in my house and if you do not follow them, I don't know what I will do but there will be grave consequences. I do not like to make idle threats, which is why I cannot say what I will do, but there will be consequences and you won't like them.
I love you and as long as you are doing what you are supposed to be doing, which is going to treatment, going to meetings, actually working the 12 steps, I will keep a roof over your head, drive you where you need to go, and pay your medical bills.
But the moment you stop going, the moment you stop participating and working on getting better, I will stop paying the bills. You can find another place to live.
And when you decide to become clean again, and abide by my rules, then you will always be welcome back home.
enjoying the freedom that comes with knowing your child is safe
I woke up this morning feeling refreshed and energized. It is so freeing to know that my daughter is in a good place. Part of the admission process to the residential treatment program was that she went off with a therapist and her dad and I also sat and talked with the program director/therapist for an hour or so. When we left, my daughter handed me a letter listing out her drug activity for the past year. I cannot express how grateful I am.
I was so frustrated with the hospital and partial hospitalization program where she spent her first three weeks after the suicide attempt. I had been an RN at that very hospital system for 5 years but I totally was unprepared for the mental health system. They told us nothing (unless we asked, mind you we had NO IDEA what to ask), I saw very little progress or changes. I was shocked and extremely frustrated by the lack of information they provide parents.
It was not until I spoke with a friend of mine who is a psychiatrist that I began to understand the process. The lack of information about my daughter's treatment was mainly due to the law and patient privacy rights including those of minors. Progress is slow in mental health. It's not like you can take an X-Ray and make a diagnosis. These are not problems that will be fixed by pills or a few therapy sessions.
Hospitalization in a behavioral med unit is not about "fixing" anything. Drug users (even those from nice, middle class homes) are out of balance nutritionally, physically, emotionally. Hospitalization is about determining a diagnosis and getting the patient back into balance so that they are at a point where they can just begin treatment. I now realize it is like calling an ambulance in an emergency. The goal of the paramedic is to stop the bleeding and get the patient stabilized for transport to a hospital. This is what the psych unit does.
Partial Hospitalization (spending 7 - 8 hours a day in an outpatient setting) is also not necessarily about "fixing" anything. It is about keeping your child in a safe and controlled environment in the aftermath of crisis. While they did some therapy, it was mainly group which is helpful but does not allow the individual to do the real and personal work needed to begin getting better. My daughter came home each day telling me about other kids in the program, about how bad the food was, what movies they watched that day. Nothing about herself.
So you can see why I am so excited to get that letter. In just one hour, she has come clean, opened up, about so much.
I am not expecting miracles or that my daughter will come home "cured" in one week. We have a long road ahead of us rife with the possibility of relapse. But for today I am grateful that my child is safe and in a place that will help us all.
I was so frustrated with the hospital and partial hospitalization program where she spent her first three weeks after the suicide attempt. I had been an RN at that very hospital system for 5 years but I totally was unprepared for the mental health system. They told us nothing (unless we asked, mind you we had NO IDEA what to ask), I saw very little progress or changes. I was shocked and extremely frustrated by the lack of information they provide parents.
It was not until I spoke with a friend of mine who is a psychiatrist that I began to understand the process. The lack of information about my daughter's treatment was mainly due to the law and patient privacy rights including those of minors. Progress is slow in mental health. It's not like you can take an X-Ray and make a diagnosis. These are not problems that will be fixed by pills or a few therapy sessions.
Hospitalization in a behavioral med unit is not about "fixing" anything. Drug users (even those from nice, middle class homes) are out of balance nutritionally, physically, emotionally. Hospitalization is about determining a diagnosis and getting the patient back into balance so that they are at a point where they can just begin treatment. I now realize it is like calling an ambulance in an emergency. The goal of the paramedic is to stop the bleeding and get the patient stabilized for transport to a hospital. This is what the psych unit does.
Partial Hospitalization (spending 7 - 8 hours a day in an outpatient setting) is also not necessarily about "fixing" anything. It is about keeping your child in a safe and controlled environment in the aftermath of crisis. While they did some therapy, it was mainly group which is helpful but does not allow the individual to do the real and personal work needed to begin getting better. My daughter came home each day telling me about other kids in the program, about how bad the food was, what movies they watched that day. Nothing about herself.
So you can see why I am so excited to get that letter. In just one hour, she has come clean, opened up, about so much.
I am not expecting miracles or that my daughter will come home "cured" in one week. We have a long road ahead of us rife with the possibility of relapse. But for today I am grateful that my child is safe and in a place that will help us all.
Monday, August 8, 2011
god answers my prayer
I'm happy to report that while God did not give me the serenity to accept the person I cannot change, He helped me change the person I can, which is me.
Thank-you for friends who have known you forever, know your history and your heartaches, and just happens to have had a few of her own along the way.
Thank you that she emails you at just the right moment especially since you've been out of touch for months.
Thank you that she picks up her phone when you call even though you are calling from your new phone which is a number she doesn't recognize.
Thank-you for friends who listen and sympathize and say just what you need to hear at this exact moment.
And thank you for friends who make you laugh at the craziness that has become your life because she understands that laughing about it puts everything into perspective.
Thank-you for friends who have known you forever, know your history and your heartaches, and just happens to have had a few of her own along the way.
Thank you that she emails you at just the right moment especially since you've been out of touch for months.
Thank you that she picks up her phone when you call even though you are calling from your new phone which is a number she doesn't recognize.
Thank-you for friends who listen and sympathize and say just what you need to hear at this exact moment.
And thank you for friends who make you laugh at the craziness that has become your life because she understands that laughing about it puts everything into perspective.
god give me serenity
I am angry tonight.... seething, livid, frustrated... in a way that I have not been in months, maybe years.
I've been angry since I got home from dropping my daughter off at the residential living center. It has nothing to do with her, it's with other people, but I feel like screaming at everyone, kicking the dog (proverbially. I'd never do anything to harm my gentle, sweet dog). Throwing something.
So please God, give me serenity to accept the people I cannot change.
please.
please.
please.
I've been angry since I got home from dropping my daughter off at the residential living center. It has nothing to do with her, it's with other people, but I feel like screaming at everyone, kicking the dog (proverbially. I'd never do anything to harm my gentle, sweet dog). Throwing something.
So please God, give me serenity to accept the people I cannot change.
please.
please.
please.
e d
I woke up this morning with the memory of a college friend. Our families had known each other forever but were not particularly close so I hadn't seen her for years before we re-connected my sophomore year.
I was rooming with my sister that year. We first learned that our friend was bulemic the night she overdosed on laxatives and something that made her extremely drowsy. She called our suite asking for help and so we drove her to the ER and stayed with her all night and most of the next day. For several weeks after that, I tried to be supportive but she was so needy, so insecure, so all-consuming. I had school and so many other commitments. I ended our friendship a few months later and she did not return to college the next year.
I've also been thinking a lot about a high school girlfriend who was anorexic. This was the early 80s and eating disorders were unheard of then, at least to kids growing up in small, midwestern towns. I remember standing behind her in the cafeteria line at breakfast and seeing her take nothing but a small bowl of granola as her food for the day. She used to exercise for hours at a time. She was literally down to skin and bones by the time her parents withdrew her from our boarding academy.
Eating disorders are scary.For me it's easier to focus on the drug addiction because the path is clear. Stop using drugs. Go to meetings. Work the 12 steps. If you relapse, start again. "It works if you work it." But there is no clear path for ED. You cannot stop eating food. There are no meetings. This is not a problem so common that the mantras have entered the common vernacular. There are no mantras. And the issues that fuel an ED are so deep, so painful that they may never be uncovered and food and body image issues can dominate for a lifetime.
As the parent of a child with ED, I see no middle ground. I am either consumed by it or I have to let go. I have chosen the latter route, preferring to watch and worry in silence. Refusing to try to get her to eat more or to ask if she has thrown up today. Talking myself down off the proverbial ledge in the privacy of my bedroom when my frustration and anger get to be too much. Focusing on the disease that I understand.
So this is my other reason for being grateful for residential treatment. The professionals will deal with this, figure it out. And once they have, they will tell me what I should be doing, how best to help my daughter.
I was rooming with my sister that year. We first learned that our friend was bulemic the night she overdosed on laxatives and something that made her extremely drowsy. She called our suite asking for help and so we drove her to the ER and stayed with her all night and most of the next day. For several weeks after that, I tried to be supportive but she was so needy, so insecure, so all-consuming. I had school and so many other commitments. I ended our friendship a few months later and she did not return to college the next year.
I've also been thinking a lot about a high school girlfriend who was anorexic. This was the early 80s and eating disorders were unheard of then, at least to kids growing up in small, midwestern towns. I remember standing behind her in the cafeteria line at breakfast and seeing her take nothing but a small bowl of granola as her food for the day. She used to exercise for hours at a time. She was literally down to skin and bones by the time her parents withdrew her from our boarding academy.
Eating disorders are scary.For me it's easier to focus on the drug addiction because the path is clear. Stop using drugs. Go to meetings. Work the 12 steps. If you relapse, start again. "It works if you work it." But there is no clear path for ED. You cannot stop eating food. There are no meetings. This is not a problem so common that the mantras have entered the common vernacular. There are no mantras. And the issues that fuel an ED are so deep, so painful that they may never be uncovered and food and body image issues can dominate for a lifetime.
As the parent of a child with ED, I see no middle ground. I am either consumed by it or I have to let go. I have chosen the latter route, preferring to watch and worry in silence. Refusing to try to get her to eat more or to ask if she has thrown up today. Talking myself down off the proverbial ledge in the privacy of my bedroom when my frustration and anger get to be too much. Focusing on the disease that I understand.
So this is my other reason for being grateful for residential treatment. The professionals will deal with this, figure it out. And once they have, they will tell me what I should be doing, how best to help my daughter.
Sunday, August 7, 2011
what i would have said if i had had the words
My daughter shared this poem with me. It was given to her by one of the therapists at the Behavioral Med Center.
***
LISTEN!
Author Unknown
When I ask you to listen to me
And you start giving me advice,
You have not done what I asked.
When I ask you to listen to me
And you feel you have to do something to solve my problem,
You have failed me, strange as that may seem.
All I asked was that you listen,
Not to talk or do - Just to hear me.
Advice is cheap; twenty cents will get you
Both Dear Abby and Billy Graham
In the same newspaper.
And I can do for myself; I am not helpless.
Maybe discouraged and faltering,
But not helpless.
When you do something for me
That I can and need to do myself,
You contribute to my fear and inadequacy.
But when you accept as a simple fact that I do feel what I feel,
No matter how irrational, than I can quit trying to convince you
And can get about this business of understanding
What's behind this irrational feeling.
And when that's clear, the answers are obvious and I don't need advice.
Irrational feelings make sense when
We understand what's behind them.
Perhaps that's why prayer works, sometimes
For some people - because God is mute,
And He doesn't give advice or
Try to fix things.
He just listens and lets you work it
Out for yourself...
So please listen and just hear me.
And if you want to talk, wait a minute
For your turn and I'll listen to you.
***
LISTEN!
Author Unknown
When I ask you to listen to me
And you start giving me advice,
You have not done what I asked.
When I ask you to listen to me
And you feel you have to do something to solve my problem,
You have failed me, strange as that may seem.
All I asked was that you listen,
Not to talk or do - Just to hear me.
Advice is cheap; twenty cents will get you
Both Dear Abby and Billy Graham
In the same newspaper.
And I can do for myself; I am not helpless.
Maybe discouraged and faltering,
But not helpless.
When you do something for me
That I can and need to do myself,
You contribute to my fear and inadequacy.
But when you accept as a simple fact that I do feel what I feel,
No matter how irrational, than I can quit trying to convince you
And can get about this business of understanding
What's behind this irrational feeling.
And when that's clear, the answers are obvious and I don't need advice.
Irrational feelings make sense when
We understand what's behind them.
Perhaps that's why prayer works, sometimes
For some people - because God is mute,
And He doesn't give advice or
Try to fix things.
He just listens and lets you work it
Out for yourself...
So please listen and just hear me.
And if you want to talk, wait a minute
For your turn and I'll listen to you.
don't bother me i'm watching people's court
Tonight it is beginning to dawn on me how tired I am. Part of it may be due to the extraordinarily busy weekend but I think that the stress of being "on" these past four weeks is finally getting to me.
My daughter is packing to go to the residential treatment facility tomorrow. Even though the facility has thoroughly reviewed her history and medical records and accepted her, and we have preliminary insurance approval, there is no guarantee that she will actually be admitted. And we have no idea how long she will stay - it could be just a few days, it could be up to a month. I am looking forward to, hoping for, at least a few days of at-home solitude.
On the one hand, life with my daughter has been blissfully peaceful the last week. The medication is working and helping her sleep and keeping her mood steady. She has resumed some of her favorite hobbies (much to our family's benefit) such as playing piano and singing, cooking, and crocheting. We have actually enjoyed the last few NA meetings and had good conversations when they were over.
But it has also been incredibly stressful... Monitoring what she is eating; wondering if she is throwing up when I am busy in another part of the house. Checking several times during the day to see what she is doing when she is too quiet and occasionally making sure she is still in bed in the middle of the night. Ensuring she is not too bored for any length of time (which is usually how trouble begins). Trying to not overreact when she does something stupid, like spilling a half gallon of blue latex paint on the tan carpeting. Giving her the medication, planning our lives around NA and Al Anon meetings, constantly checking to make sure that I have my phone (so she cannot use it), and that all medications and other dangerous substances are locked up.
And fighting the desire to believe that she is fine now, that today it is ok for me to go back to living my normal, oblivious life.
So tomorrow, after I get back from the residential center, don't be worried if you don't hear from me for a while. Hopefully I will be in my room, the door locked, phone turned off, curled up in bed, mindlessly catching up on four week's worth of People's Court and Matlock reruns (yes, I DVR those shows).
My daughter is packing to go to the residential treatment facility tomorrow. Even though the facility has thoroughly reviewed her history and medical records and accepted her, and we have preliminary insurance approval, there is no guarantee that she will actually be admitted. And we have no idea how long she will stay - it could be just a few days, it could be up to a month. I am looking forward to, hoping for, at least a few days of at-home solitude.
On the one hand, life with my daughter has been blissfully peaceful the last week. The medication is working and helping her sleep and keeping her mood steady. She has resumed some of her favorite hobbies (much to our family's benefit) such as playing piano and singing, cooking, and crocheting. We have actually enjoyed the last few NA meetings and had good conversations when they were over.
But it has also been incredibly stressful... Monitoring what she is eating; wondering if she is throwing up when I am busy in another part of the house. Checking several times during the day to see what she is doing when she is too quiet and occasionally making sure she is still in bed in the middle of the night. Ensuring she is not too bored for any length of time (which is usually how trouble begins). Trying to not overreact when she does something stupid, like spilling a half gallon of blue latex paint on the tan carpeting. Giving her the medication, planning our lives around NA and Al Anon meetings, constantly checking to make sure that I have my phone (so she cannot use it), and that all medications and other dangerous substances are locked up.
And fighting the desire to believe that she is fine now, that today it is ok for me to go back to living my normal, oblivious life.
So tomorrow, after I get back from the residential center, don't be worried if you don't hear from me for a while. Hopefully I will be in my room, the door locked, phone turned off, curled up in bed, mindlessly catching up on four week's worth of People's Court and Matlock reruns (yes, I DVR those shows).
Saturday, August 6, 2011
seeing the brother in a whole new light
I am really concerned about my son. He was home with us these last several days and I am afraid he is becoming resentful with all that is going on. There have been so many changes in these last few weeks and he is a kid who does not like change. He just learned yesterday that he will not be returning to the school that he has gone to for the last six years. He was visibly upset but didn't say much about it. While he was here this week, I split most of my time between my job and his sister. I don't recall doing much of anything with him and I am very sad about that. I am afraid his anger is building up. He is off to his dad's house for a few days and I hope that they will get some quality time together.
I am seeing the story of the Prodigal son in a whole new light, from the perspective of the brother who stayed home and felt unappreciated. My son is not complaining, but I suspect he feels a lot of the same emotions and rightly so. Usually when the story is told, the brother is portrayed as being bad or wrong for feeling resentment and telling his father how he felt. We are made to feel as if we should only feel joy that the prodigal returned and feeling anything else makes us bad people. I'll never look at this story in the same way again.
I realize our best chance for dealing with our resentments, anger and for finding balance is to go to therapy. I've been very lax about finding a family therapist outside of my daughter's treatment. I called several when this all started but none of them were able to see us at that time. I will pick up that search again on Monday.
I am seeing the story of the Prodigal son in a whole new light, from the perspective of the brother who stayed home and felt unappreciated. My son is not complaining, but I suspect he feels a lot of the same emotions and rightly so. Usually when the story is told, the brother is portrayed as being bad or wrong for feeling resentment and telling his father how he felt. We are made to feel as if we should only feel joy that the prodigal returned and feeling anything else makes us bad people. I'll never look at this story in the same way again.
I realize our best chance for dealing with our resentments, anger and for finding balance is to go to therapy. I've been very lax about finding a family therapist outside of my daughter's treatment. I called several when this all started but none of them were able to see us at that time. I will pick up that search again on Monday.
just another day
It's Saturday. Normally we would be going to church but since my life is no longer "normal," my daughter and I are staying home today, for the second weekend in a row. I've been somewhat conflicted about what to do about church and the Sabbath. I'm not much of a "Sabbath-keeper" as it is, but now I feel even less motivated than usual.
I don't take my daughter to our home church any longer because I feel the need to keep her away from the other kids. Primarily, it is because I don't know from whom she got her drugs or with whom she partied. But also, she has gone through a lot of social turmoil over the last three years and I don't want to put her back into that mix until she has built up her confidence and learned new coping skills.
I could say that that is why I haven't been to church and leave it at that, but the truth is, I don't want to go. I'm not angry at God or the religion or anything like that. I have wonderful friends and acquaintances there and I'm sure, if they knew what was going on, they would be so supportive. But going to church means dressing up and smiling and making small talk and pretending like there is nothing wrong. Or it means having to talk with friends who do know, about how we are coping and what we are doing. Neither of those options seems particularly appealing right now.
Some of my family members who are very conservative religiously, feel it's a mistake to neglect church at this point. Over the years, different family members have said to me, "You're going to do what you think is best," which is not meant as a compliment but is said out of exasperation because I am not doing what they are telling me to do. One person has told me more than a few times that we "are in this mess" because I am not running my household and raising my children the way the religion says I should.
The religion says I should be turning to God now, asking for guidance, praying for wisdom, putting my fate in His hands. My life experience says to explore my options, seek the help of professionals, go with my gut. By doing those things, I feel like I AM putting my fate in His hands, receiving His wisdom. I trust that God is with me even if I am not sitting in the pews on Saturday mornings and that He understands why.
I don't take my daughter to our home church any longer because I feel the need to keep her away from the other kids. Primarily, it is because I don't know from whom she got her drugs or with whom she partied. But also, she has gone through a lot of social turmoil over the last three years and I don't want to put her back into that mix until she has built up her confidence and learned new coping skills.
I could say that that is why I haven't been to church and leave it at that, but the truth is, I don't want to go. I'm not angry at God or the religion or anything like that. I have wonderful friends and acquaintances there and I'm sure, if they knew what was going on, they would be so supportive. But going to church means dressing up and smiling and making small talk and pretending like there is nothing wrong. Or it means having to talk with friends who do know, about how we are coping and what we are doing. Neither of those options seems particularly appealing right now.
Some of my family members who are very conservative religiously, feel it's a mistake to neglect church at this point. Over the years, different family members have said to me, "You're going to do what you think is best," which is not meant as a compliment but is said out of exasperation because I am not doing what they are telling me to do. One person has told me more than a few times that we "are in this mess" because I am not running my household and raising my children the way the religion says I should.
The religion says I should be turning to God now, asking for guidance, praying for wisdom, putting my fate in His hands. My life experience says to explore my options, seek the help of professionals, go with my gut. By doing those things, I feel like I AM putting my fate in His hands, receiving His wisdom. I trust that God is with me even if I am not sitting in the pews on Saturday mornings and that He understands why.
Friday, August 5, 2011
i really do not have time for this...
To the concerned person that just discovered that I let my kids eat shrimp (which goes against our religious tradition)... thank you for expressing your dismay but this is really the least of my problems right now.
how efficient!
My daughter takes medication twice a day. One of the beneficial side effects of this med is that it makes her sleepy and since she started on it, she has been sleeping really well, 10-12 hours a night. Unfortunately one of the negative side effects of this med is that it makes her sleepy and her morning dose, which is half of her bedtime dose, leaves her zombie-like for several hours during waking hours.
A few days ago she had the brilliant idea that I should give her the morning pill early in the morning, when she would normally sleep a few more hours. This is not a problem for me since I am typically up two or more hours before the kids get up anyway.
The pill that she takes is teensy tiny, slightly bigger than a pinhead, and when you cut it in half, you almost have to carry it with tweezers. That first morning I woke her up to give her the med, she put out her palm to take it. Instead of putting it there though, I put it on her thumb and than manually brought her index finger down on top of it, making sure she had a firm grasp of it before I let go. I know from having been a nurse for several years that if you put a pill into the flat palm of a person who is lying down in bed, they will almost always lose it when they tilt their hand towards their mouth to take it. Every morning I put the pill on her thumb even though she offers me her palm when I wake her.
Last night my daughter asked me why I give her the a.m. pill the way I do and I demonstrated how you can lose the pill from a flat palm when you are lying down. I saw a light bulb go on in her brain.
So this morning when I woke her, she almost reflexively jerked her arm out from under the covers, her thumb and index finger already in the shape of a U. It made me laugh out loud
A few days ago she had the brilliant idea that I should give her the morning pill early in the morning, when she would normally sleep a few more hours. This is not a problem for me since I am typically up two or more hours before the kids get up anyway.
The pill that she takes is teensy tiny, slightly bigger than a pinhead, and when you cut it in half, you almost have to carry it with tweezers. That first morning I woke her up to give her the med, she put out her palm to take it. Instead of putting it there though, I put it on her thumb and than manually brought her index finger down on top of it, making sure she had a firm grasp of it before I let go. I know from having been a nurse for several years that if you put a pill into the flat palm of a person who is lying down in bed, they will almost always lose it when they tilt their hand towards their mouth to take it. Every morning I put the pill on her thumb even though she offers me her palm when I wake her.
Last night my daughter asked me why I give her the a.m. pill the way I do and I demonstrated how you can lose the pill from a flat palm when you are lying down. I saw a light bulb go on in her brain.
So this morning when I woke her, she almost reflexively jerked her arm out from under the covers, her thumb and index finger already in the shape of a U. It made me laugh out loud
Thursday, August 4, 2011
keeping my fingers crossed
I'm feeling hopeful. It looks like we might be able to get my daughter started in an outpatient treatment program as early as tomorrow. She should have started a week ago but we weren't ready.
It's a long story.... She was in the behavioral med unit for two weeks initially after the suicide attempt. Then she went into outpatient Partial hospitalization the first day after she was discharged. Partial means you spend 7 hours a day in an outpatient treatment program and that typically lasts a week or two. (I use that word, "typically," loosely. How the patient responds determines how long they stay.) In Partial, they were assessing my daughter to determine if she should go to the Eating Disorder Partial program or to what they refer to as Dual Diagnosis, which is for patients who have two or more problems such as drug use and depression. They decided Eating Disorder (ED) was more appropriate so they discharged her on a Wednesday with the plan that she would start ED the next day.
ED is eight hours a day, five days a week, and lasts typically six to eight weeks, longer if the patient is not responding. It is held at the hospital which is 25 miles from my home (and 50+ miles from my ex-husband's house), but the commute can easily take 30 - 60 minutes one way during rush hour traffic for me (and 3 hours for him). It is also expensive. I have very good health insurance and they were going to cover the bulk of the cost, but even the daily co-pay was more than I could afford without going into serious debt. When they told me about the decision to go with ED and what all it entailed, I shut down. Literally. I refused and took my daughter home.
To their credit, the people at the hospital were very kind. They told me they might be able to work out transportation with a van service. That they might be able to work out a program where she would come in fewer days in the week, maybe even shorter hours, and all these things would bring the cost down. But as I said, I shut down and could not begin to discuss options. I remember telling the staff, "I really can't afford the ED program" and the nurse asking me, "How much can you afford?" The first thought that went through my mind was, What are you? A used car salesman? Fortunately I did not express that thought out loud.
It's amazing what a good night's sleep can do. I woke up in the morning and was able to think clearly; I was able to verbalize the fears that were paralyzing me.
I talked that morning with my sister on the phone, and was complaining that I could not afford the cost of treatment. She was very encouraging and supportive and said, "These things always come to an end. Don't feel like you will be paying that money forever. It's just for a set time." But my fear was that this might never end. Most addicts relapse. A woman in Al Anon told me she had sent her son to rehab 20+ times between the time he was 14 and 21. She mortgaged her house to send him to a camp in Utah for a year and when he came home, he was using again within two days. I said to my sister, "I feel like I am in this for the long haul and I can't afford to go with luxury treatment programs. This hospital ED program feels like a luxury. I feel like I have to be economical about this. It's the not-knowing what the future will be like that is killing me."
And as far as the driving issue, I realized that a treatment program that was closer to my ex-husband's house would work better for us all around. I could set up shop at his house while my daughter was in treatment and he would be able to help drive. If we drove together, it would give us time to talk not only to her but to each other. It would also be more convenient for him to participate in therapy.
I began looking online for treatment programs and found one that sounded really good. (The Parents' support group that we went to a couple of days ago was for this program.) It has taken us a week to get to the place where we are emotionally and psychologically ready to send her. Now we're working on paperwork and insurance.
This may not work out and I'm ok with that. I know now what I am looking for and that I will eventually find the solution that is best for my daughter AND that is within our means and abilities.
It's a long story.... She was in the behavioral med unit for two weeks initially after the suicide attempt. Then she went into outpatient Partial hospitalization the first day after she was discharged. Partial means you spend 7 hours a day in an outpatient treatment program and that typically lasts a week or two. (I use that word, "typically," loosely. How the patient responds determines how long they stay.) In Partial, they were assessing my daughter to determine if she should go to the Eating Disorder Partial program or to what they refer to as Dual Diagnosis, which is for patients who have two or more problems such as drug use and depression. They decided Eating Disorder (ED) was more appropriate so they discharged her on a Wednesday with the plan that she would start ED the next day.
ED is eight hours a day, five days a week, and lasts typically six to eight weeks, longer if the patient is not responding. It is held at the hospital which is 25 miles from my home (and 50+ miles from my ex-husband's house), but the commute can easily take 30 - 60 minutes one way during rush hour traffic for me (and 3 hours for him). It is also expensive. I have very good health insurance and they were going to cover the bulk of the cost, but even the daily co-pay was more than I could afford without going into serious debt. When they told me about the decision to go with ED and what all it entailed, I shut down. Literally. I refused and took my daughter home.
To their credit, the people at the hospital were very kind. They told me they might be able to work out transportation with a van service. That they might be able to work out a program where she would come in fewer days in the week, maybe even shorter hours, and all these things would bring the cost down. But as I said, I shut down and could not begin to discuss options. I remember telling the staff, "I really can't afford the ED program" and the nurse asking me, "How much can you afford?" The first thought that went through my mind was, What are you? A used car salesman? Fortunately I did not express that thought out loud.
It's amazing what a good night's sleep can do. I woke up in the morning and was able to think clearly; I was able to verbalize the fears that were paralyzing me.
I talked that morning with my sister on the phone, and was complaining that I could not afford the cost of treatment. She was very encouraging and supportive and said, "These things always come to an end. Don't feel like you will be paying that money forever. It's just for a set time." But my fear was that this might never end. Most addicts relapse. A woman in Al Anon told me she had sent her son to rehab 20+ times between the time he was 14 and 21. She mortgaged her house to send him to a camp in Utah for a year and when he came home, he was using again within two days. I said to my sister, "I feel like I am in this for the long haul and I can't afford to go with luxury treatment programs. This hospital ED program feels like a luxury. I feel like I have to be economical about this. It's the not-knowing what the future will be like that is killing me."
And as far as the driving issue, I realized that a treatment program that was closer to my ex-husband's house would work better for us all around. I could set up shop at his house while my daughter was in treatment and he would be able to help drive. If we drove together, it would give us time to talk not only to her but to each other. It would also be more convenient for him to participate in therapy.
I began looking online for treatment programs and found one that sounded really good. (The Parents' support group that we went to a couple of days ago was for this program.) It has taken us a week to get to the place where we are emotionally and psychologically ready to send her. Now we're working on paperwork and insurance.
This may not work out and I'm ok with that. I know now what I am looking for and that I will eventually find the solution that is best for my daughter AND that is within our means and abilities.
i'd like to get off this ride now
Today has been a rollercoaster of a day emotionally. Too soon to put any details down to paper, but suffice it to say, I am exhausted. It is amazing how physically tiring mental activity can be.
I ended up not needing that extra dose of courage that I asked for yesterday because I ended up not having to tackle a terrible and difficult change that looked to be most definitely needed. God actually bestowed the wisdom I jokingly wished for on the stumbling block who was in our way making that painful, difficult change no longer necessary.
We have one or two more hoops to jump through today but hopefully we will sail through with flying colors.
Sorry to be so vague.
I ended up not needing that extra dose of courage that I asked for yesterday because I ended up not having to tackle a terrible and difficult change that looked to be most definitely needed. God actually bestowed the wisdom I jokingly wished for on the stumbling block who was in our way making that painful, difficult change no longer necessary.
We have one or two more hoops to jump through today but hopefully we will sail through with flying colors.
Sorry to be so vague.
excuses to be in denial
I was looking over my last two postings and noticed that I used the words "our" and "us" totally without realizing it. Of course the first two words that popped into my head were "co-dependent" and "enabling." In Al Anon meetings, they tell you that the disease of addiction is the addict's disease and not to make it yours. But most of the time, people who say that are dealing with adult addicts. You are allowed to disengage from an adult who is destroying themself. I struggle from the other side. I have no problems saying "This is your problem, you deal with it." I've said it to many people over the years (maybe not out loud but by cutting myself off from them). As the mother of a minor, the law forces me to stay engaged.
Early on, I found myself saying it was "her" problem, that "she" needed to be fixed. But when a child becomes addicted, it is a family problem. I started forcing myself to use plural posessive pronouns to counteract my denial, to remind myself that we are in this together. And now I really believe it.
But talking about denial... It was a real struggle those first few days after my daughter came home from the hospital. We were supposed to go to three NA meetings a week. It was so hard to walk into a room full of hardcore addicts - people who had used cocaine and heroin for years, many who had been homeless, their bodies ravaged by the disease - and think that my beautiful, smart, talented daughter belonged there.
The first night we went to a meeting, we "suffered in silence" through it. The second night I was determined to find a meeting that felt more comfortable for us and we drove to three different locations, walking out of the first two even before the meeting started. The third one, conducted at a church in a quiet, middle class suburb, ended up being tolerable and that is where we go now for most of our meetings. Most of the people who attend here are still hardcore addicts but now I find them to be our best teachers.
Another excuse for denial is the words that were used. We couldn't go to an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting because alcohol was not her substance of choice. We couldn't relate to people who used cocaine and heroin because she didn't use those substances. (That statement is pure denial because she "did" try the harder stuff and more than once.) She wasn't an addict because she stopped using and said she didn't want to use any more. Besides, it was "just" marijuana and everyone knows that marijuana is not addictive.
But at every meeting, they end with the words, "Keep coming back. It works if you work it." And so we did. And when my daughter tried to tell me that she didn't belong in those meetings, with those people, I gently reminded her that she WAS an addict, even though I didn't really believe it either.
So last night I was thrilled to see my daughter stand up on her own when they asked people with 30 days to come forward, totally excited to be going up to get her chip. It was wonderful to see the other members crowd around her at the end and tell her how proud they were of her. And I thank God that in this moment, we are where we are supposed to be.
Early on, I found myself saying it was "her" problem, that "she" needed to be fixed. But when a child becomes addicted, it is a family problem. I started forcing myself to use plural posessive pronouns to counteract my denial, to remind myself that we are in this together. And now I really believe it.
But talking about denial... It was a real struggle those first few days after my daughter came home from the hospital. We were supposed to go to three NA meetings a week. It was so hard to walk into a room full of hardcore addicts - people who had used cocaine and heroin for years, many who had been homeless, their bodies ravaged by the disease - and think that my beautiful, smart, talented daughter belonged there.
The first night we went to a meeting, we "suffered in silence" through it. The second night I was determined to find a meeting that felt more comfortable for us and we drove to three different locations, walking out of the first two even before the meeting started. The third one, conducted at a church in a quiet, middle class suburb, ended up being tolerable and that is where we go now for most of our meetings. Most of the people who attend here are still hardcore addicts but now I find them to be our best teachers.
Another excuse for denial is the words that were used. We couldn't go to an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting because alcohol was not her substance of choice. We couldn't relate to people who used cocaine and heroin because she didn't use those substances. (That statement is pure denial because she "did" try the harder stuff and more than once.) She wasn't an addict because she stopped using and said she didn't want to use any more. Besides, it was "just" marijuana and everyone knows that marijuana is not addictive.
But at every meeting, they end with the words, "Keep coming back. It works if you work it." And so we did. And when my daughter tried to tell me that she didn't belong in those meetings, with those people, I gently reminded her that she WAS an addict, even though I didn't really believe it either.
So last night I was thrilled to see my daughter stand up on her own when they asked people with 30 days to come forward, totally excited to be going up to get her chip. It was wonderful to see the other members crowd around her at the end and tell her how proud they were of her. And I thank God that in this moment, we are where we are supposed to be.
Wednesday, August 3, 2011
sometimes god sends a full-belly laugh
So my daughter and I were sitting outside during the break at our Wednesday night NA meeting. She was looking through the calendar on my iPad when she noticed that I did not have her birthday on there, which is two weeks away.
I said,"I don't have it on there because I remember when your birthday is." She gave me one of those "yeah right" looks. I am embarrassed to admit that all too many times I have had to wait very impatiently outside the grocery store at 6 a.m., the morning of, for them to open so that I can buy a card.
So I said, "I guess I'm in denial."
To which she responded, "Admitting that you have a problem is the first step."
We both looked at each other for a second and then burst out laughing simultaneously.
I said,"I don't have it on there because I remember when your birthday is." She gave me one of those "yeah right" looks. I am embarrassed to admit that all too many times I have had to wait very impatiently outside the grocery store at 6 a.m., the morning of, for them to open so that I can buy a card.
So I said, "I guess I'm in denial."
To which she responded, "Admitting that you have a problem is the first step."
We both looked at each other for a second and then burst out laughing simultaneously.
30 days
Tonight my daughter got her 30 day chip (actual count is sober 35 days). The best part of the whole thing was that she was excited to go up and get her chip and her hug.
Yayyyy for us!
Yayyyy for us!
what is needed right now
"God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change,
The courage to change the things I can,
And the wisdom to know the difference."
We say it at the beginning and end of every Al Anon and NA meeting. It has taken on whole new levels - whole new dimensions - of meaning for me.
So right now I am asking for courage.
And wishing God would give wisdom to the stumbling block that I am having to deal with right now.
The courage to change the things I can,
And the wisdom to know the difference."
We say it at the beginning and end of every Al Anon and NA meeting. It has taken on whole new levels - whole new dimensions - of meaning for me.
So right now I am asking for courage.
And wishing God would give wisdom to the stumbling block that I am having to deal with right now.
the best thing people have said to me
So now that I've done my bitching about what not to say, can I tell you the best thing people have said to me? It was to tell me that 1) you are here for me 2) you want to know what is going on and how you can help, but 3) AND THIS IS THE BEST THING... you will not ask me about this situation, that we do not have to talk about it unless I bring it up.
What a relief (for me)! So good to know that this crisis is not going to be the definition, the all-consuming topic, the focal point of our relationship moving forward. That I can pretend or be in denial if that is what I need in the moment. That I can be who I was (before this happened) with you. That when this is all over, you and I will be the friends that we have always been.
Thank you for that.
What a relief (for me)! So good to know that this crisis is not going to be the definition, the all-consuming topic, the focal point of our relationship moving forward. That I can pretend or be in denial if that is what I need in the moment. That I can be who I was (before this happened) with you. That when this is all over, you and I will be the friends that we have always been.
Thank you for that.
a new parents' support group
Last night we (my ex-husband and I) checked out a parents' support group for parents who have or had their kids treated at this residential treatment facility over in the next county. I thought it was a very positive experience and the parents there had nothing but positive things to say about the program.
The Ex has been very reluctant about treatment for our daughter. He is not convinced that she has done drugs or has an eating disorder. He wants to believe that she is just saying all these things to create drama, to manipulate us. But I think he is finally accepting the fact that even if she is "just" lying as he thinks, that is indicative of very serious emotional and behavioral problems. Problems we are not equipped to handle.
One of the huge benefits of the meeting was that he was able to hear things from other parents that he has not been able to hear from me. As they talked about their kids, we heard echoes of what we have been experiencing with our daughter the past three years. And we got a glimpse of our future if we don't get this under control.
When we mentioned that our daughter was 14, one of the parents said "Its good that you caught this early" and I laughed out loud. Not because I thought she was an idiot but because, as ridiculous as that statement sounds, I totally believe it and agree with her. And I think only the parent of an addicted child can understand that.
I hope to put her into the program tomorrow but The Ex is still holding out. I'm keeping my fingers crossed.
The Ex has been very reluctant about treatment for our daughter. He is not convinced that she has done drugs or has an eating disorder. He wants to believe that she is just saying all these things to create drama, to manipulate us. But I think he is finally accepting the fact that even if she is "just" lying as he thinks, that is indicative of very serious emotional and behavioral problems. Problems we are not equipped to handle.
One of the huge benefits of the meeting was that he was able to hear things from other parents that he has not been able to hear from me. As they talked about their kids, we heard echoes of what we have been experiencing with our daughter the past three years. And we got a glimpse of our future if we don't get this under control.
When we mentioned that our daughter was 14, one of the parents said "Its good that you caught this early" and I laughed out loud. Not because I thought she was an idiot but because, as ridiculous as that statement sounds, I totally believe it and agree with her. And I think only the parent of an addicted child can understand that.
I hope to put her into the program tomorrow but The Ex is still holding out. I'm keeping my fingers crossed.
Tuesday, August 2, 2011
can i give you some advice?
It never ceases to amaze me how people are so eager to give you advice when it comes to parenting. It does not matter that
So can I give you some advice? If you know someone in crisis, and they aren't in immediate danger, keep your advice to yourself. Shut up and just listen. Hold my hand. Hug me. Make compassionate, comforting noises. But keep your advice to yourself.
I don't care that your brother-in-law's godmother's nephew's girlfriend went through the exact same thing. I don't care how they got through it. I don't care what they did to resolve it.
I don't need to know that you think I brought this on myself. That I was a terrible parent for not seeing the signs. That I made and am continuing to make all the wrong decisions.
You don't have to tell me that I need to do something. That I am in denial. That I am being selfish or not thinking clearly. Or that my attitude sucks.
I don't care if you think my child's therapist is crazy. Or that our case isn't "that bad." Or that you are questioning the validity or appropriateness of what we have been told to do or has been prescribed. Even if I ask for your opinion, unless you are a trained professional in the exact area in which I am suffering, keep it to yourself.
The best thing you can do is to listen, to encourage me to cry and vent and get my frustrations out. And to keep your advice to yourself.
- they do not have children or
- their children are much younger than mine or
- that they have never experienced what I am going through or
- that they have zero training or professional experience in the thing with which I am dealing.
So can I give you some advice? If you know someone in crisis, and they aren't in immediate danger, keep your advice to yourself. Shut up and just listen. Hold my hand. Hug me. Make compassionate, comforting noises. But keep your advice to yourself.
I don't care that your brother-in-law's godmother's nephew's girlfriend went through the exact same thing. I don't care how they got through it. I don't care what they did to resolve it.
I don't need to know that you think I brought this on myself. That I was a terrible parent for not seeing the signs. That I made and am continuing to make all the wrong decisions.
You don't have to tell me that I need to do something. That I am in denial. That I am being selfish or not thinking clearly. Or that my attitude sucks.
I don't care if you think my child's therapist is crazy. Or that our case isn't "that bad." Or that you are questioning the validity or appropriateness of what we have been told to do or has been prescribed. Even if I ask for your opinion, unless you are a trained professional in the exact area in which I am suffering, keep it to yourself.
The best thing you can do is to listen, to encourage me to cry and vent and get my frustrations out. And to keep your advice to yourself.
this wasn't supposed to happen
Recently my 14 year old daughter attempted suicide. It was the second time in two years. The first time she said she wasn't really trying to kill herself; she just wanted the pain to stop. This time she couldn't say that as evidenced by the fact that she took a handful of prescription pills and she had no idea what they were for or the effect they would have.
In the aftermath, it has come out that she started drinking alcohol as early as age 11 and she is now addicted to drugs. She has been promiscuous, as in multiple partners. And she has eating disorders. With an "s." As in more than one. Did I mention that she is 14?
I'm doing everything "the professionals" tell me to do. Child Protective Services came to my home and interviewed me and my son. We are going to Narcotics Anonymous meetings 2-3 times a week. I have found an Al Anon meeting and am trying to go at least once a week. I journal. I read my Al Anon devotionals. I try to keep my daughter busy and even-keeled (made a whole lot easier by her anti-psychotic prescription meds).
And I ask, how did this happen? How did we end up here?
In the aftermath, it has come out that she started drinking alcohol as early as age 11 and she is now addicted to drugs. She has been promiscuous, as in multiple partners. And she has eating disorders. With an "s." As in more than one. Did I mention that she is 14?
I'm doing everything "the professionals" tell me to do. Child Protective Services came to my home and interviewed me and my son. We are going to Narcotics Anonymous meetings 2-3 times a week. I have found an Al Anon meeting and am trying to go at least once a week. I journal. I read my Al Anon devotionals. I try to keep my daughter busy and even-keeled (made a whole lot easier by her anti-psychotic prescription meds).
And I ask, how did this happen? How did we end up here?
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