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Her first admission this season lasted 4 days.  The discharge meds took away suicideality but left her pacing , anxious, and laying in bed like a corpse "waiting for the meds to kick in."

After a week , which included sessions with her T and P, she agrees to admit to the mental hospital again because of the anxiety.  This time I take her, and she starts to renege at the admisssions desk, the intake room, and while she is in her unit.

She has been on 25 (count 'em, I did, looking at our pharmacy records) meds to date with no "success." 

The plan to which she agreed was ECT.  It was today, and I called in the afternoon to see how she was (after several calls last night of her complaining the nurses didn't do this, they didn't do that---you all know the drill).

She decided she does not want to do it anymore and she wants to come home.  I say no; she does not need to expose the kids to this anymore, she needs to complete the treatment and then transition to a residential facility.  She rages/cycles, etc.

I go to Home Depot and buy the kids (and me) some more plants and flowers for our beautifully reclaimed vegetable garden that we have been working on in her absence.  Gardening really gives me a break from the madness.  And having the kids see their food grow, is a hoot.

About an hour later, her attending P agrees to a conference she insists on having with me, the attending P.  I take the call, with her Dad listening, too (they are here to help me with the kids).  She starts to cycle, she gets me engaged and I tell her she is not to come home until she finishes the plan.  "I hate you forever, and I always will for making me do this."

the P wisely ends the conversation.  Two hours later she calls me to apologize, and wants to know when I will be there for visiting hours tomorrow.

I tell her I'll think about it.  I don't know I can handle anymore.

I am so beat up, scrambling to get after school care lined up ("I'll never drive again," she says), and trying to put on a strong face for my kids. 

My oldest, the most sensitive, is in tears every day.  Next week I will take him to his T. 

It's not fair she inflicts all this pain.  Even from the inside of a locked facility her tentacles reach out and drag me into her disordered swirling  cerebrum.  It's one horror worse than the one before.

But my FIL thinks the family should stay together "no matter what."

I hope he got a good dose of how toxic she is to her own children let alone me.

Its so difficult, gary seven, and I think you are doing a great job with your kids, emotional and practical. ( I personally love the part of gardening with them.)


Great you have support from family members.

Did you have a chance to speak with her P or T alone?

Surnia:

Those are my calls for today.

Wearing the Husband hat, I feel obligated to visit; wearing the Non hat I feel like I should run away and let her deal with herself.  I feel the children need the protection.

I agree about the children - they need you and they need a emotional stable situation.

And there is gary - to be there for his children its important that he has some time for himself, to recharge.

Running away with children is difficult, she is the mother - what about starting with let her deal with her problems under professional help? So that you can put the husband hat down for some days and wearing father and gary's hat?

Surnia:

I know where the Dad hat is:  mixed in the garden wagon we call the "chariot," where we keep our gloves, spades and trowels . It's covered in dirt, and sweat, and laughter, and "oo I see a worm."

I have to put on the husband hat today since we have a hospital conference call today for discharge planning.  If she is not accepted, then I am going to tell her folks to plan to get her a local apartment.  She is their Mom, and I don't want to make it messy, but the record speaks for itself.

I have not seen the Gary hat in so long.  It's pretty threadbare, too.  A week in Paris could ease the pain a little, but one can only dream now can't one.  Oh to be lost in a crowd, where no one knows me, where no one knows how I am suffering, hoping and looking for that one chance that someone out there thinks I'm actually an OK person.

I have to go now, I'm crying.  Thanks for getting me to dream, albeit for a minute.

A big hug for you. 

So much pain in your words about your dream.

My prayers are going to you and your situation.