Do You Realize?

Thirteen Things...

...that I'm thinkin' 'bout on Thursday...

1. ...winners from my Blogiversary Giveaways! Congrats to Jeff at Biking Duluth (Greenies & Pet Promise dog food sample), Caroline in NH at Fiber Arts & Furry Critters (Bush's Last Day keychain), Hootin' Anni (CD of ten of my photographic images), Andree at Meeyau (Feline Greenies & Pet Promise cat food sample), Molly at RedMolly Picayune-Democrat (a copy of Diane MacEachern's book Big Green Purse), and Anonymous Mom at Tenuous at Best (handcrafted journal)! If I don't hear from each of you within 24 hours, I will contact you. I'm asking until next Saturday (hopefully won't need that long) to get everything ready to ship.

2. ...my complete and utter domination at the art of oatmeal. I have mastered my "perfect oats." No extra liquid, but not too dry either. MMMMM.

3. ...philosophical subjects like evil and faith. I've determined that the basis for one's faith in an idea or entity is a positive and memorable event that the person attributes, whether correctly or incorrectly, to that idea or entity. For example, my husband sees, on a regular basis, the healing and saving of lives. He attributes that to the science of medicine; his faith, therefore, lies in the scientific.

4. ...suicide. Not mine, no. The book I'm reading, Jodi Picoult's The Pact, is about a failed teen suicide pact, where the surviving teen is charged with murder.

5. ...how terrible I am at poker. Some friends of ours have bought a table at a local "Casino Night" fundraiser and have graciously asked Hubby & I to go. I know not a damn thing about poker, but I will throw down with the best of them when intoxicated, I'm sure.

6. ...Texas's crazy caucusing. We voted early to avoid voting day crowds, but then had to go out anyway for the caucusing portion of the night.

7. ...how terrifyingly easy it is to imagine Youngest as a drug addict. He has a very addictive personality anyway, and a bipolar individual's risk of addiction to drugs or alcohol is much higher than that of a normally functioning person. At thirteen, his drug of choice is Runescape or the Playstation 3; he will do anything, self-destructive or otherwise, to get his fix. Seeing his desperation while in Austin last weekend with limited Internet availability was truly amazing.

8. ...our freakish weather. It's snowing again. Hard. Remember, I was talking about the weather yesterday?

9. ...how hitting an already-dead, but still fresh, skunk on the highway is very, very bad. Very bad, indeed. I also discovered why so many of them seem to be hit on the road. Nearly impossible to see until the last minute. Poor buggers.

10. ...organ donation. My mom is down in Florida at a post-transplant checkup. She's doing amazingly well!

11. ...photography. I mentioned it's snowing again, right?

12. ...the Project Runway season finale last night. As I fully expected, Christian kicked ass. His clothes, while not designed for the everyday woman, were exquisite concoctions, full of ruffles and feathers. His runway music killed, too (created and arranged by Anonymous Mom's not-so-anonymous talented son). Way to go, Christian! I just want to eat him up like a cookie, he's so freakin' cute.

13. ...how I SO don't want to do the laundry and mop the floors.

Edited to add: I drove for six hours to accomplish what would usually take three.

The Same, Only Different

I had originally planned to post on whatever subject corresponds to the item I'm giving away each day, but I'm at a loss as to what in the world I could give away relating to mental illness. The only things I could come up with are illegal (free Adderall and Concerta for all! No, not really, no.). I had also planned for today to be an environmental post, giving away Diane MacEachern's book Big Green Purse, but with my current frame of mind, an informational, yet subjective, post about bipolar disorder came out instead. Ergo, I have nothing yet planned for today's giveaway. The environment and Big Green Purse will be rescheduled for Tuesday.

I mentioned the other day that I was reading to catch up on a blog written by an incredible woman who has a bipolar teenager (as well as a normally-functioning adult son). I mentioned yesterday that life had thrown another curveball, which almost always includes my bipolar son.

So many of her posts left me breathless, simply because it made me think, "Hey! We're not alone!" or "I didn't imagine this. Other people have had this happen, too."

Some things that I've either realized, but now have the knowledge that I'm not alone, or things that I've recognized by reading her blog:

Youngest is triggered by therapy sessions. We've wondered for a year or more why, when his therapy sessions would be progressing calmly and well, we were suddenly confronted by "the monster" before we even hit the highway headed back home. He is responding to and relieving himself of the anxiety that his sessions cause him.

We are lucky that, financially, we can choose any doctor we want without the constraints of insurance (we've never filed his visits because his doc is out-of-network), and we can afford the specialized private school that Youngest attends. Distance is not a problem; I drive about 1000 miles per week for school and therapy (individual for Youngest and for me, and a family therapist, as well).

We are more challenged than others because Youngest has two siblings who are pretty close in age to him. They definitely trigger him a good deal, and their reactions to him and his illness play a large part in the explosive dynamics of our family. Every decision we make, we have to weigh how it will affect each of the five of us, as well as the family unit.

When Youngest yells in the heat of battle that we "just don't understand," he's right. As much as I read on the subject, and talk to other parents of bp kids, and stay abreast of medications and his therapy, I don't understand all it entails to be him. On some level I wish I did, but mostly I know how lucky I am that I don't.

No matter how hard or long or loudly I try to force him to reason, he cannot do it. He will not be able to do it; he is not wired to reason, for good or for ill.

Our life is far from normal, and one day, it may become even less so. We've talked about the possibility of locking away foods high in carbs (bipolar kids crave carbs like no other); because of Youngest's lack of self-regulation, he can easily eat a 16-oz. jar of my homemade organic jelly or a bag of Newman-O's in two sittings or a huge can of Ovaltine in three days. One day, we may have to lock away the steak knives and kitchen knives, or things that make fire, because of same lack of self-regulation.

Waking up a bipolar child is a nightmare. It's not just mine. Their sleep cycles are often severely fucked up, for lack of a more appropriate medical term. The first attempt to wake Youngest happens at 6:30 a.m. Most often, five trips into his room and thirty minutes later, he's finally up. Then he has just twenty minutes to have some sort of breakfast, get dressed, take his meds, brush his teeth. Mornings suck.

Now, just because we know these things, doesn't mean we always do the right things with that knowledge. I, especially, struggle with Youngest's hostility & rages, because although I get the brunt of 98% of his rages, he was almost unnaturally attached to me for 8-10 years. I also struggle because being in the same room with him is exactly like being in the room with my ex-husband; I therefore spend a lot of time with him in uncomfortable silence, breathing in shallow breaths while my heart beats like a hummingbird's wings because I'm afraid to speak and trip a land mine.

We've now been two days off his Concerta, the ADHD medication. Because they are stimulants, medications like Concerta (et al) can worsen any manic symptoms that are there. And because children's and, often, adolescents', manic symptoms manifest as irritability which swings to rage, that's a very bad thing. But, because his sleep rhythm is severely screwed, Youngest is all but comatose for most of the day, as well as silly and inattentive.  I can't win.

A Super Secret Undercover Mission

One big reason that Youngest triggers horrific reactions in me is that he is a carbon copy of his biological father. And I divorced his biological father for a reason. Because he wasn't a likable person, and I didn't like him. At all. Now, it's like I have to live with him again, with no divorce in sight.

"So, are you going to look for a job today?" a very pregnant me asks a very unemployed husband. (Remember him?) Thirteen years ago.

"Not yet. I have something I have to do today. And I'm going to take Middle (who was really Youngest at that point in time) with me. We'll go to the park or something. We'll hang out." (We'll be a chick magnet.)

"No job?"

"Tomorrow." (Riiiiight. If hell freezes over.)

Hours pass. Unemployed husband comes home with toddler and three new comics in hand. (How the fuck did these get in my hand when I have no fucking money? Huh.) Elated. Giddy. Euphoric.

"Middle was a hero today, Mommy." (Ummmm...)

"Oh, really? How's that?" (Ask you no questions, tell me no lies. I should know better.)

"He saved a police investigation." (Huh?)

Me: "Tell me about it."

"Well, I've got this friend at the department who I occasionally do favors for when he needs somebody. Like an informant." (Oooh, this is gonna be good.)

"So, today, he asked me to come and make a pickup of an audio tape for a big investigation they're doing right now. I can't say exactly who it is, but when it breaks it's gonna be big. Very important political figure. His family owns juice companies." (Really good.)

"I'm sitting on the bench waiting for the drop-off, and when it happens, the tape falls to the ground. Middle ran over & picked it up & brought it to me. Didn't you buddy?" (You're asking a fifteen-month-old.)

Me: "Did you get paid for this?" (Wait for iiiit....)

"No. But I helped the police out, baby! If you can't handle my working with them, you need to get over it now. Because I do important stuff for them sometimes. They just can't pay me for it." (Oh, well, of course not.)

(sarcasm) Thirteen years later, I'm still trying to figure out what political scandal Bob Dole was supposedly being investigated for in Floyd County, Georgia. Maybe he was lying. Maybe he was out spending money we didn't have on comic books. Ya think? (/sarcasm)  I'm telling you, I couldn't make this shit up.

Sunday Scribblings--Passion

From dictionary (dot) com:

"Passion...
...
8. an outburst of strong emotion or feeling: He suddenly broke into a passion of bitter words.
9. violent anger
...
12. Archaic. the sufferings of a martyr
..."

All of these definitions apply when it comes to living with mental illness in one's family. Don't ask me why poetry happens when I think about my son's disease, because I just don't know. This week, it's an acrostic poem:

Prayers beseeching
An unheeding god for a
Sign that this hateful
Sickness has an end.
I search for answers
Over and over, but
Nothing appears.

Sunday Scribblings--Fellow Travelers

It's early evening; the train is leaving the station once more. This train is designated for frequent travelers, those who must make this journey at least daily, and not because they want to, but because they must. This trip is a requisite, for their lives are interminably entwined with their fellow travelers, who are also aboard out of duty and necessity.

On this day (and most), my companions are my family. Three teenaged children and a husband.  We are, all of us, at the mercy of our conductor: my youngest child's inoperable frontal lobe. This train's destination is set, and the ride will not be smooth or pleasant. Although it is a trip we take often, it is not one we have chosen.

As the train leaves the station, there is a cacophony of screeching as we are catapulted forward. The noise becomes unbearable, the train pushing forward at dangerous velocity. It's time to put on my seatbelt, because the ride will be jarring; nausea is unavoidable. The speed with which we catapult forward never subsides as we approach the first of an unknown number of breakneck twists and turns in the track. Reason and logic are futile: we shouldn't be traveling this fast, we shouldn't be on this track, we shouldn't be here at all, but our conductor is indifferent.

For what seems an eternity, we hang on with white knuckles and empty souls, until the train inevitably begins to slow. Pulling into the very station from which we departed, we realize that, although we are taken a different route each time,  the scenery is nearly always identical.

Queasy, confused, and spent, we disembark. We recognize that we may have only a short layover before our next trip on the (Bi)Polar Express, and it angers us, saddens us. Though we hold tickets with no expiration dates, we are warriors; we are a band of weary travelers with enough determination to weather these trips with courage and love.

Sunday Scribblings--Dance

My first poetic endeavor... possibly ever, unless you count grade school. It actually came quite easily once I sat down and quietly contemplated what's going on in our life right now.

We dance around it
The elephant in the room--
Invisibly ill.

Living Green in the Chaos

What I have to say today is going to sound controversial to some, like an excuse to others, and still more are going to 'fess up and say, "Hey, she's right."

Living green is easier to do in a life that is not filled with chaos. Lives that stick pretty much to a day-to-day scripted routine. I can say this with every confidence, because I know from firsthand experience. When Youngest was relatively stable (for those just tuning in, he suffers from Childhood Bipolar Disorder, ADHD, and Overanxious Disorder), it was much easier to cook at home, shop for local and/or organic foods, avoid restaurants, think about how every object you come in contact with has already and will further impact the environment.

When my days are filled with doctors, therapists, appointments for the other kids, SATs, marching competitions, and on and on, things get trickier. The smaller eco-friendly habits are easier to keep up at home: canvas shopping bags, natural and plant-based cleaners and shampoos, letting the yellow mellow at home, etc. But the sad truth is that when I'm giving every ounce of my time and energy trying to just make sure our little world at home isn't going to fall apart at its unreinforced seams, I really find it impossible to think about every aspect of keeping the larger world in tip-top condition.

Yesterday, for example, we had a day in which we were going from 8a-8p. Youngest had to have blood drawn to check his medication levels, then a drive into The Big D to his psychiatrist for a double session. Middle had an after-school basketball game nearby, so it didn't make any sense to drive all the way home and back again, so we hung out for a couple of hours. Then Youngest had a session alone with the family therapist, then we headed home, where I had to proofread a paper for Eldest. In the middle of all that running and worrying, we ate two meals out. Had we been hungry for dinner, we would have had three. Even driving a Prius, that's a lot of driving (I average 200 miles per day).

Yesterday we made one of the most emotional decisions of our lives regarding Youngest's care. When my life is crumbling around me one block at a time, sometimes I really find it hard to think about and care about whether child slave labor picked the beans that made my Godiva truffle or my vanilla latte. Does that make me a bad person? Maybe.

But until my life begins to even remotely resemble normal, that's the way it is. Yeah, the truth hurts.

Family Therapy is FUN!

Well, at least it's interesting.

So, one of the recommendations from the Seay Behavioral Health Center (where youngest spent eleven days) was that adolescents in sticky family/mental health situations tend to benefit from family therapy a lot in addition (or, in some cases, in lieu of) regular individual counseling. The reason being that oftentimes family dynamics for these kids are greatly skewed.

After research on the Internet, I trusted my gut and chose, made an appointment, and we saw our new family therapist last Saturday, then again last night. She does a lot of hands-on "play therapy;" and yes, it works for adolescents, too. I was completely fascinated with our activities & the results.

On Saturday, we were instructed to pick ONE color of crayon per person; once we did that, she sent us to a large mural paper & told us to draw a scene or picture on it together. The catch was that we could not talk or communicate in any way. It was quite an interesting picture, let me tell you, but that's not what surprised me. Her assessment of the photo really made me think she's bugged our house.

Looking at the different colors each person chose, within the picture drawn, we could see mostly red (my hubby). Next, as far as amount of color seen, was Youngest and me, about equal, with Youngest with the slight edge. Lastly, with only a few additions to the picture, were Middle and Eldest. She then told us to look at that picture and imagine it as our family. Huh? Well, okay, there it was.

Hubby is the BMOC, the Main Man, Large and In Charge, Head of Household. He has the most presence in the house, and in the picture. A lot of his drawings were either leading the drawing or adding something to someone else's drawing (adding a hat or a tie or something). He tends to be somewhat of a control freak. Good virgo, he is.

My color (brown) was very present, but it was mainly in "helper" or "reactive" roles. I added things I thought the photo needed to be complete, bark on the tree, whiskers on the cat... I tend to react to a situation and help finish it, not always a good thing, when the kids need to learn to navigate these relationships themselves.

Youngest (blue) had easily as much, if not more, presence than I did, and all of his drawing was in the very center of the picture. Taking the metaphor to its accurate conclusion, she guessed that he takes up a lot of emotional room in the family and always seems to be in the center of every situation.

The two who had the least presence in the picture were Middle and Eldest (purple and black). Just as in the picture, Eldest tends to do her thing and then drop back, while Middle just gets lost in the shuffle.

Last night, we got to draw another picture, except this time we were allowed to talk. We were all surprised (but probably shouldn't have been) to discover that this was more difficult for us to do than the one where we couldn't talk. This one mainly gave her an idea of how we communicated as a family.

Our homework this week is interesting. Each one of us has one day in which all of the family's attention will be focused on that one person. It will be interesting to see how difficult it is for: (a) Youngest to relinquish all the attention he normally commands, (b) Middle to actually feel attention on him and accept it, and (c) me to not try to compensate for the other two as the attention is focused on only one child. I'm so excited to try this out (not to mention having a day for just me, too!) and see where it goes.

A Tuesday Ten--Complaint Department Edition

I'm kind of cranky this week. And to prove it, I present you ten things that are on my damn nerves this week (some big, some trivial... I'm balanced that way!):

1. The thing that is bugging me the worst right now is America's glib treatment of mental illness in general. If someone has one little mood fluctuation, people make offhand and ignorant remarks about them being "bipolar." Britney Spears has become a pariah; she is obviously suffering, possibly (I daresay probably) in a depression at the very least, yet all we want is to talk about how "crazy" she is. This story has me all sorts of mad. First, why was this woman, clearly crying out for help (and quite articulately, at that), left alone in a holding cell? If police had been following departmental procedure, she would still be alive today. And second, why aren't more people talking about it, questioning it?

2. Celadon Trucking, who apparently don't realize that common sense marketing strategy would have led them in a different direction. Celadon is GREEN, you numbnuts!

3. The media's treatment of Al Gore, from cherry-picking quotes until they barely resemble the original (he did NOT say he INVENTED the Internet, jackasses) and dissecting everything from his sighing habits to his clothing during the Presidential campaign, now acting like he's always been their darling. No hard feelings, right, Al?

4. Stupid drivers. This will show up on every single pet peeve list of mine until the day I surrender my license because I'm too old or blind to safely operate a vehicle.

5. Hypocrisy. "God's Warrior" Marguerite Perrin from Trading Spouses renounced her family's final $50,000 in 2005, saying (okay, screeching) it was "tainted" and "dark-sided." When she found out that $20,000 had been earmarked for her gastric bypass surgery, though, she reconsidered and took the money. She even went back on Trading Spouses for a second torturous episode. She also said she didn't want money or fame, she just wanted Her God and Her Family. But somehow, she's found a way to capitalize on America's impression of her with a comedy music CD and interviews on numerous TV shows.

6. Drizzly days. Theoretically, rainy days should be like free showers for your car, in my opinion. Drizzly days make dirty roads into muddy roads, and your car always ends up dirtier than it was before the rain. Not cool.

7. Dumbasses who insist on pronouncing the number one hundred as “a hunnerd” or, even better, “a hunnert.” I have heard at least two different radio advertisements this week in which the spokesman slaughtered this. WTF?

8. Childhood Bipolar Disorder. No one should have to live with this disease, and no one should have to live with a child who has this disease. It is devastating, frustrating, confusing, time consuming, and it absolutely eclipses every other person, problem, and plan inside a family.

9. Doggy agression. Our oldest dog, Poogan, is beautiful. But if she were human, she would be the old bitchy aunt that no one wants to visit because all the kids are afraid of her. And she’s got so many neuroses and fears. She's afraid of a whole host of household items & actions: vacuum cleaner, ceiling fans, broom & mop, vacuum cleaner, shadows, candles, shiny reflections, vacuum cleaner, the doorbell, strangers... the list goes on forever... did I mention we've had to replace 5 vacuum cleaner hoses from where she bites holes in them? In her old age, she's also starting to growl and snap at any other living thing that crosses her path, barking shrilly at anything that startles or upsets her. Gah, it gets old.

10. Dropped signals. Whether it's my cell phone or my wireless internet connection, my electronics have been dropping me like a baby giraffe lately.

See? I told you I was cranky!

Bittersweet

One of the most difficult things I've ever had to experience in life is being overjoyed and excited for one child and being devastated and worried senseless for another. This past week and a half or so, that's exactly what I've had to do.

Youngest, as I mentioned briefly, had to be admitted to the adolescent psychiatric facility at Presbyterian Hospital, an hour away. He remained an Inpatient from Thursday until Tuesday. Visitation and "parent education" began at 7:30 a.m. weekdays, a little later on weekends. We had various family group therapies, psychosocial history, etc. to attend as well. Moving to Outpatient status brought more challenges. Day Treatment begins at 7:15 a.m. which means we leave at 6:00 a.m., and if you have never tried to wake up a child with Bipolar Disorder, you wouldn't know that they often have sleep disturbances and sleep inertia, which means, basically, he is nigh impossible to get going in the morning, much more so than you or I. His day ends at 5:15 p.m., when he comes home with goals and paperwork to discuss. We've made a Home Contract to address safety issues and situational behaviors he needs to work on. He's having to learn verbal and facial cues from scratch, pretty much, and communication and coping skills. It's a lot for the little guy; he is one of the youngest (one other had just turned thirteen, still older) there, and the only one with Bipolar Disorder.

On the other hand, Eldest is having an amazing Senior year with the Colorguard. Yesterday was their UIL Area Marching Competition. Twenty bands competed for four entries into the UIL State Marching Competition in San Antonio at the Alamo Dome. Our band marched away with First Place!!! They were incredible on the field! And, best of all, Eldest has a small solo during the show! So next week, we're off to San Antonio for three days. My sister is flying in that weekend, and she'll stay longer now.

My mom & dad have "relocated" to Jacksonville, Florida, to be nearer the Mayo Clinic while awaiting her new liver. They have to stay within 4 hours of Jacksonville. Her new condition has put her close to the top of the list, and they anticipate between 2 - 6 months to receive her transplant. So we wait. It feels strange, waiting for someone to die in order for my mother to live.

All in all, it's been an exhausting, emotionally wrenching week, but one that has made me stronger and smarter as well.