I don't know how others do it. I used to find the strength within myself, but now my view of the horizon is shrinking as budgets get cut more and more.
I've finally been able to slow down enough to take notes of the meds he's taking and try to record SOMETHING that goes on daily in our lives. The problem is I am so exhausted and stressed that minutes after the episode my brain starts to close in on itself and a dark fog starts to cloud the truth, and doubt starts to set in. THIS is what is clinically known as depression. Which I have complained about since I came here in '07.
I look at my homework, as I sit and type, and wonder how I'm going to make it through school. As I type my 12 year old is cursing "fuck you bitch" "suck my ball sack" "eat my balls" at everyone, degrading and threatening "I'm going to fucking punch you" (sorry for the cursing, I realized if I didn't post no one would truly understand), all while he walks around eating his bowl of Top Ramen (his choice for breakfast not mine, that was another battle). It is 10:58am, and he has already stressed out the entire house hold. THIS is all because he is bored.
On 60 mg of Vyvanse 1x's a day, 2 mg of Risperdone 2x's daily, 1 mg of Risperdone 1x's daily, 100 mg of 5HTP 2x's daily, and 2 mg of Intuit 1x's daily (which the doctor forgot to authorize even though he gave us a prescription that we've turned in 2 weeks ago (and yes, I've contacted all of the appropriate people to have the doctor call to authorize) still nothing.
I am going to put the contact numbers that I have been calling, not to blasphemize them, but to help others. Each person has a different experience, each experience as different as the individual, what did not help me, might help someone else, and instead of making you search for the resources I thought I would put them here to help others.
I'm unsure where I have left off, if I stop to read what I have written I will never get this done. So if you see me posting under a specific date, it's because I remembered and experience and was trying to put them in chronological order.
He finally has resorted to hitting me. I mean, of course he would hit me, bite, me, kick me, urinate on me, head butt me, etc. when I would restrain him (this has gone on since the 2nd? grade (forgive me, it's all a blur). But then there was a calmness that occurred. Oh sure he would still throw things once in a while, call people names, but it was nothing like the beginning. When I told people how he was acting during the "calm" they would look at me like I was insane. One counseling agency that specialized in ADHD and other mental health disorders in children refused to see me because I wasn't "working" their program (there's more to this that will be explained later as well). I realized, near the edge of the "calmness" what was really going on.
We had learned how to appease the beast inside my son and how to keep him entertained which caused minimal outbursts (since everything the councilors and psychiatrists were suggesting either didn't work or couldn't be done consistently since I was a single mother with a full time job and no family support).
It was during this time that I was able to function long enough to read quick articles online, research online at work (since it still could not be done at home), I was able to hook up with people who could see from the outside in what was going on in my home, and try to hook me up with the correct resources. I made sure to CC EVERYONE with the information I was receiving, and decided to be proactive and email everyone in his school as well as to what was going on at home, changes in meds, doctors, everything. At this point I was able to leave one night a week to go to school.
For a year we rode the waves...dealing with things as they came, throwing out and replacing things that were broken. Staying a prisoner in our own home since we didn't dare take him anywhere, or have people over, for fear of what he might do or say.
It was then that I realized we were standing in the eye of the storm. We thought we were at the end and we could pick up the pieces and life would get better after all of the repairs were done, not the same, but better than it was in the storm. I was wrong.
The winds had started to pick up again months ago. Again, it's a blur as to the exact time, I don't know why the doctors and councilors ever ask you this. It is while I'm writing this that I realize that I couldn't answer the doctors because needed (and still need) help myself. That my minds way of handling what was going on in my life was to wrap me up in a black velvet curtain that would cover all of the memories and numb most of the pain. THIS is what the doctors didn't see, his doctors and my own. I had been asking for help for all of us that didn't come, and it is now at the edge of the calmness that I truly understand.
As the winds started kicking up again I had realized that I never had control over anything, not even myself. I have resorted to taking diet pills (not to loose the weight I have gained during all of this, a good 100lbs) but to stop the velvet blanket of depression from making me drowsy so I can no longer function.
He has resorted to hitting me. It started with threats to everyone and he was hitting his brother (but they're boys and I used to chock it up to hormones, brotherhood and mental health). I used to be the one thing he never wanted to see hurt. The bubble of safetiness is no longer there.
I was "wailed" on in the garage the other night (Wednesday March 31st 2011 to be exact). I would call what had happened a "manic" episode and since he's acting out now, I'm unsure if I'll be able to stay here and put it all into words.
To catch you up to speed I will let you know that I did call the after hours emergency mental health response team? (209-558-4600. This is the number you need to call if your child is having a mental health episode and is not being safe to his or herself or others) prior to him ever hitting me, which was what I was told to do. I was then told to take him to the ER, which I did, and called his counselor who met us there. He was about to hit people, cussing, threatening and I was told more doors would open if I followed this path. So I did so, like a good little soldier. Of course by the time I got into my car I had tears streaming down my face, because the last thing any parent wants to do is willingly bring their child in to be committed, which was what I wanted at this point. We needed to be safe. He had calmed down before I got there and to make a long story short, the outcome wasn't any better. The CERT person finally made it to the hospital (mind you it was a weekday and it was now around 2am) to assess my son, who was asleep. She woke him up and requested immediately upon her arrival for coherent answers from a person who had a manic episode hours ago and fell asleep (which is the norm). I can't even wake up and answer people right away. Regardless the responses I received from her during this incident left me yelling, apologizing, crying, and yelling again.
Here was her response, "I'm sorry but we don't have preventative resources here (in Stanislas County, California). If he has another episode and your grandson gets hurt or might get hurt, we will remove your grandson (18 months old) because he is easier to place than your son (with the mental health issues)." I just about died. I'm sure all of the color left my face before the blood raged back to my cheeks and I exploded watching security come in out of the corner of my eye. My 18 year old daughter was already moving out, due to her concern for safety, I have one child left in the home under 18, other than him, that I still have to protect, I had nothing else to lose.
"So you're telling me that I have to kick out my daughter (21) who is due in one month, who's fiance is in the Marines, with her 18 month old child, because you wont help me with my son?!" She looked at me as if I was in a lecture hall and she was reading text to me in black and white. "Your daughter is over 18 and can fend for herself, she is not your responsibility, your son (with the mental health issues) is." I could not believe what I was hearing, "So it's ok that my 18 year old daughter, who has fought documented severe depression and can't even go to school, has to LEAVE MY HOME to be safe, because she is 18 and there is no help for her little brother." She nodded to me "Precisely" at this point my brain was moving so fast I forgot my son was even there. I had done the calculations, I still had a good chunk of tax return in the bank, if I went to jail the bills would be paid and everyone would be fine, I would be out and hire an attorney. So I tore into her verbally making sure to apologize when I was rude for my outbursts. "I was TOLD to bring him here, I was TOLD that we would receive help if I brought him here when he had an outburst, I was TOLD that doors would open. And now you're telling me that if I call ANYONE again, if this HAPPENS again, my grandson, and the baby will be removed from my home?!" tears of anger and loss were running down my face. "Yes, I know it sounds like I'm not really helping you, and I wish that there was more that I could do but if your daughter willingly stays there knowing what is going on and putting her children in harms way then it is her own fault." She just sat there blinking at me. "But" I raged "she has NOWHERE ELSE to go! What about ME?! What about my 15 year old son?!" This could not be happening to me. "I feel like I'm not helping and I wish I had the answers for you, but your son (with mental health) is your responsibility." With that I thanked her, because I was done, and anything else I could and might say to her would definitely get me removed from the hospital. I took him home that night, empty and lost.
This is why, when he wailed on me Wednesday night I sat on my couch, dumbfounded, going through the motions. What do I do? I didn't know what to do. I left my dirt on my sidewalk with my flowers, picked up any tools a small neighbor child might hurt themselves with and walked into my house. The scene was so big and loud inside and outside of my house that there was nothing to do but go inside anyway, and leave my front yard in disarray.
When he punched me in the stomach yesterday due to another episode from boredom, I decided to call the after hours emergency number (3:33pm) (maybe I had called a different one last time) but this time I was able to take notes. I was grateful it wasn't the suicide hot-line because they did not have a clinician available and asked if one could call me back. What did I have to lose, of course they could call me back. I received a call back at 4:09pm and what the clinician heard was the mellowed out calming down version of what had happened earlier, and it was through our conversation that I realized I didn't think this woman had much mental health training. I felt like I had learned more at NAMI during the eye of the storm than she actually shared in her knowledge yesterday). Her suggestions: spank him, (he was fixing something and was going to break it on accident so I was calling him "honey" to let him know I wasn't mad) she informed me that wasn't his name and not to call him that, she told me it was behavioral and not mental health, that they have a lot of parents that call because their children are misbehaving. When I asked her if there was any help through the number I just reached her at she said no. That they do not have the resources to help me that I should take him to the ER if he's being violent, it was at that point I filled her in on my experience. She then stated he that he needs to be removed in the home and put in a group home. She told me to call healthy families or medical (his insurance) to let them know what is going on with my son on Monday. (Since I didn't want to call them on Monday to find out that I needed to contact someone else I asked for clarification). She stated well does he have a doctor? (yes) well you need to tell the doctor what is going on. (now let me remind you that this lady has my son's file from when we went to the ER last time, I know this because the original person I spoke to brought it up and told me he had a closed file). I then informed the clinician that the primary doctor is aware, that he has a psychiatrist and a counselor, that he is on medication (and gave her the run down of the meds) and that I was told to call THIS number if he became violent, he is breaking everything, doors, etc. and he IS HITTING ME! .....her response was that there is nothing her department can do for me an that she was sorry and that on Monday I needed to call someone else. (which I think I've already called but I told her I would try). She informed me there is nothing I can do but take him to the ER (which we now know is a waste of time because there is nothing I can do then).
The place I am to call on Monday 04/04/11 is the County's Children's System of (great I can't read my notes) that I need to explain I'm with Healthy Families I have a child who is battering me and I need more than medical. I don't have great hopes on this and I'm ready to throw in the towel. I feel like I'm not doing something right, I read all of these success stories and wonder what is wrong with me. I know I hit my limit again after that phone call. I'm unsure how I'm going to complete my homework for tonight. I have to finish school, I can't afford to pay back my student loans now if I drop out and I need to figure a way out of this.
I have learned through all of this that no one is on the same page. No one. When you do get them all on the same page, don't ever leave them. For like a good man, they are hard to find.
