A Mother's Cry

 

This is probably one of the hardest things I've written about.  I've started it many times and put it aside because I was never sure if I could even put it into words.

I also didn't want anyone judging the situation.  It is a tough situation to even think about going through but then to actually live it....

Mind you, what I am about to write about happened a few years ago and we are all fine now.  I am writing about it because I am sure other moms have gone through it, are going through it or will go through it.  I just want you to know that you are not alone.

I thought it was odd that she asked me for an extension cord.  She said that she needed it for her curling iron.  I had a long day and didn't really question her.  After several minutes...hell, it could have been an hour but the time doesn't matter, she came out of the bathroom and admitted to the lie and said that the cord was to put into the tub with her.

As a parent, I didn't know what to do.  I knew she struggled and we had tried to get help but help was just almost impossible to find.  School counselors were focused on SATs and college meetings.  I was told that they were too busy to even refer us to someone who could help.  I had called behavioral health and got her in to see an older guy but he really couldn't relate to poor body image and teenage breakups.

I tried to help but she accused me of making it about me.  I only tried to relate to what she was going through but she didn't see me as ever being a teenager.

When she admitted the intent of the extension cord, I calmly said that I was glad that she told me and we talked for a bit.  She went to bed.

I was up all night thinking why the fuck couldn't I help my own child.  I felt like a failure.  I made the decision to seek the ultimate help.

I can't really remember if she went to school the next day but again, the timeline doesn't really matter.

I made the decision to take her to the emergency room and seek for some way to help her.

She had serious body image issues.  She binged and purged.  She was a shell of what she once was.  She worked out constantly.

She had bullies at school who were into cyberbullying her.  Her ass was too big, her arms were too hairy, and whatever else.  

She self harmed.  Her arms were cut with scissors or a knife.

She was angry and depressed.

and I couldn't help her.

My beautiful child was a mess.

She didn't fight me on going to the hospital.  Which surprised me but I think she was just ready to get help too.

In the emergency room they ran blood tests and checked vitals.  Finally a doctor came and talked with us, mainly her.  She explained everything that was going on with her and her thoughts.  I was startled to learn that it was worse that what I was seeing.  My heart broke even more.

I stepped out with the doctor and he asked what I was thinking.  I started to cry and said that I think she needs to be admitted to the pysch ward and if she doesn't agree, I will have her forcibly placed.

As a mother, this had to be one of the hardest decisions I had to make. 

I talked with her a bit about my decision and at first she was scared about how it would all work.  She then opened to the idea and agreed to go.

It was hard leaving her there but I also knew that she was safe.  That first night I slept so good knowing that she was safe.

The first few days were hard for her as she never liked sleeping away from home but as she got involved in the program, I began to see improvement.  She was there for about 5 days.  

We put a plan into place so that she could come home.  We learned to talk about things.  We worked with a counselor.  Her medication was adjusted.

I'm not saying that everything was perfect after that.  There have been some large bumps in the road but we have tools to deal with them.

Despite everything she was a straight A student.  She is bright, funny, and beautiful.

I am proud of my daughter.

One Very Irrational Thought

 

I never regret posting about how I deal with my depression.  If it helps just one person, then it not only helps them, it helps me.

I have my quiet days.  They are further and farther apart now that I have moved back home.  

I think because I feel more loved and accepted here.

A lot of my depression stems from my own demons in my head.  They tell me that I am ugly, fat, stupid, unlovable.... pick any type of insult and my demons say it.

I wrote a blog entry on the night that I had a moment of irrational thought and almost committed suicide.

You can read it here ------>  Click on these words.

I still think about that moment and how desperate I was to just end it.  

People ask about my butterfly tattoo on my left forearm.

It is in my favorite color and it has a small semicolon for a body.

A butterfly is a symbol of change for me.  They are beautiful and fragile.  They can be joyful to see.  They are graceful and most have limited life spans.

We all have limited life spans.  Some of us live to be in our 100's.  That is still a limited time.

I'm glad that I didn't limit my own life span.

Depression is some ugly shit.

It can be managed but I seriously don't think that there is really a cure.

I know that I will never be completely done with it.  I am better with fighting it now.

Learn your triggers and avoid them.  

Phone or visit a friend.  You don't have to tell them why if you don't want to but it helps to just hear someone who fills the part of you where depression lays.  

Journal or just write about what you are feeling.  Keep writing until it passes.  It helps you recognize the triggers.

Love yourself.  I know it's hard because of the lies you are hearing.  You just have to find the strength to tell them to shut the fuck up.

An emotional support animal or even a plant helps.  You have to take care of them, if you aren't living, who else will do it?

Take time for yourself.  I drive to the big lake and just dip my toes in.  It doesn't matter if its cold.  It grounds me.

I also walk in cemeteries.  They are very peaceful.  I touch old headstones and try to connect.  This person is someone who was loved very much and I wonder who visits their graves now (other than me).

I paint.  I make a big messy mess and create the hell out of something.  It awakens my energy.  The colors collide and form some amazing stuff.

I also just couch potato.  Doing absolutely nothing allows me to speak to my inner self and watch some cute dudes on tv.  (haha)

To be back where my friends and family helps so much.

To be able to visit my sister and laugh until we are both crying is amazing.  I am so thankful for her.

To spend time with old friends is extremely comforting.  My old self is resurfacing and it feels great.

To make new friends is the best.  

I treasure all my relationships.

I am allowing myself to be loved.  I make no apologies for who I am and I am accepted anyway.

I love myself and this is the very key.  I love myself enough to take care of me.

Suicide is a very permanent solution to a very temporary problem.  

You are not alone.

If you would like to learn more about Project Semicolon, click here.

Project Semicolon

Suicide Hotline

800-273-8255

Where to Go From Here...

So I've been unemployed for about a week now.  The novelty of staying home has worn off and I am beginning to climb the walls.  I have watched enough Law and Order SVU to actually solve a murder, try the perp and sentence him/her to the appropriate amount of time for the crime.

Thank God I haven't started in with soap operas and game shows.

Lately I've been working on my crafts (while watching Law and Order) and making wonderful things with wire, beads and hair clips.  It takes hours to come up with a few things since I have the equivalency of writer's block.

sigh

I've signed up on job service websites.  I cruise those to see what's out there.  I giggle as I refrain from applying for a detective or something legal like a lawyer.  I can't put Law and Order on my resume.

I also have been thinking about working for myself.

What could I do that would pay the bills and that I would enjoy?

I think of all those designers out there that design shoes, handbags, jewelry, hats, and other things.  I design barrettes and bangles for cell phones.  How do other designers get noticed?  How do they design and then mass produce it?  hrrmmmmmm....

So many questions....

I have a friend who is a travel writer.  She travels and writes.  I would love to do something like that but I don't think I am that great of a writer nor can I just pick up and leave with kids.  I just live through her writings and pretend that I went with her.

So much goes through my mind as Eliot and Olivia (reruns) solve crimes.

How will I pay the bills?  How will we eat?  

I need to figure something out.

How do others find jobs that they enjoy?  I haven't enjoyed a job since I worked at Walmart.  (I know, right?)  I loved working with people.  I loved supervising cashiers.  I loved little old ladies who couldn't find the right TV.  I loved the fast paced holiday season.  It didn't pay well, but I loved it.

My second favorite job of all time was working as a hostess in a local restaurant when I was a teenager.  I think I made $4.50 an hour but I loved it.  I loved the customers.  I loved my co-workers (Hell, I even married one of them).  I loved the holiday seasons.  I loved the smell of ribs cooking.

I guess the theme here is that I loved the two jobs that didn't pay the greatest but where I could work with people (customers).

So, maybe I have my answer just by writing all this out.

hrrmmmmmm......