Anxiety

treatment

/ Outrunning my demons / 4 Comments

We were misguided to think Arabella would receive mental health treatment while incarcerated. Everything was happening so slowly with the courts and before we knew it a month slipped away. Last Monday Paul started the process of calling around to see what inpatient programs would accept an inmate. She had to meet the criteria of being suicidal or homicidal to be admitted.

Tuesday Arabella called collect from jail. Paul and I connected our phones together so Arabella could talk to the intake person at the treatment center. She was in this inpatient program three times before and they said they would be willing to take her again.

Wednesday we had a phone conference scheduled with the lawyer. We told him Arabella would be accepted into a mental health inpatient program. He moved up her bond hearing and arraignment for Friday morning.

Thursday we followed up with the treatment center. They said they still had an opening since they were releasing several patients that very day. But they also said they weren’t sure if they would accept Arabella because even though she met the criteria several days ago she might not meet it when she came in. We really weren’t sure what was going to happen. What if they didn’t accept her? Would she come back home? Being delusional and self-harm didn’t meet criteria for admittance. They were worried she might be seeking treatment just to get out of jail.

Late Friday morning, Paul and I headed to court. I was so anxious I literally felt sick. My stomach burned. I felt like I was going to throw up and/or pass out. I saw my daughter for the first time in over a month in handcuffs and an orange jumpsuit. She was making small talk with the bailiff. He was asking her what she learned from her experience. After the lawyer came in, the judge was called in. My daughter pled not guilty to her criminal counts. Then the judge said he would release her to an inpatient treatment program. We were to be agents of the court and provide transportation to the clinic. If she was not accepted, she needed to go back to jail. Upon completion, she is also supposed to report to jail. I felt more secure in the fact she was not going to be coming home.

Paul and I decided to go to a buffet for a quick lunch and then head to the jail to pick Arabella up. We thought we could just walk in and she would be ready to go shortly. Again, we were misguided. The receptionist said she did not receive paperwork from the court to release our daughter to us for treatment. She told us to take a seat and we ended up sitting there for 4 hours. Thankfully I brought a book with me because it was not my first rodeo at the mental hospital. At least I knew that would take a lot of time and was prepared to hurry up and wait.

Because of COVID, they no longer have in person visitation at the jail. Instead in the lobby they have kiosks set up where you can do visits on a computer screen. We sat in a row of chairs with our backs to the kiosks. People came and went. It was hard to focus on my book.

There was a mom with two toddlers running around the lobby. She kept screaming at them. Before she left she told the kids to say good-bye to daddy. It was a little quieter for awhile. Then there was a woman who came in that screamed and hysterically cried the whole time. She kept asking what the inmate wanted her to do with their shit. There was a lot of swearing and yelling so it was hard to sit with my back to her and read my book. At the end of the visit the woman was crying and telling the other person not to leave her. It was intensely personal and uncomfortable.

Then a mom and grandma came in to talk to a guy. Grandma said her cancer screen came back with good results. Their conversation was just an every day conversation about life. Another guy told someone to hang in there and that he was always there for her. There were multiple heartrending conversations going on at the same time. I never heard the inmates response because the conversations were over the phone.

Then people started coming in. One lady came in to get an electronic monitoring system. The receptionist said the person who does that was not in today and she would have to go back to jail. The woman said she could not be incarcerated because her lungs were too bad. She sat with us for awhile too along with another woman who was with her while waiting for the courts. Several guys came in for DNA samples. They received notification they had to come in Monday through Friday but when they got there they were told samples were collected on the weekends only.

There were signs on the wall telling people to report suicidal inmates which I thought was a joke. It is virtually next to impossible to get your suicidal inmate treatment. At 4 PM, the receptionist said the lobby was closing and we would have to wait in the night lobby which was unmanned. They still did not receive documents from the court and the courthouse was closing in a half an hour. We didn’t know what to do. We left a message for the lawyer and tried calling the courthouse with no luck. We thought about leaving. What if no one gets back to us because it is Friday night? And not just any Friday night, but the Cinco de Mayo night of a full moon.

People started being released. A young woman desperate and not sure what to do. Did we have a couple bucks for a bus pass? From everything I learned over the course of the last couple hours and months was that inmates are people too needing kindness and compassion. Then two men were released. They were a lot rougher looking. There was a big angry man swearing about not getting his Oxy back and an unkempt guy with a teardrop tattoo. I reminded myself they are people too. I was getting a little nervous but I didn’t want to show fear. I’m glad my husband was there. But they didn’t pay any attention to me at all. Then another man came out who walked close and stared at me. Finally Arabella came through the doors and we were on our way to the mental health center.

Arabella said she was in medium security at jail. Her cellmate was in and out of jail for manufacturing and delivering heroin, neglecting a child, prostitution, and stealing someone’s identity. She will be heading to prison for several years. It makes me nervous to think about the things she is learning in jail and the friends she is making there. And to think I thought the friendships she made in the mental hospitals were bad.

We arrived at the mental hospital and they were ready for Arabella with minimal wait. I again was misguided to think it wouldn’t take long since it took another 4 hours. Arabella arrived disheveled looking with a stained sweatshirt and granny undies that hung out of her short shorts exposing her cutting wounds. They took her back for the assessment which they said would take 45 minutes to an hour. Once again, I pulled out my book. Another couple came in with a teenage daughter. I guessed they were newbies since they didn’t bring anything to keep them occupied and spoke to each other in hushed worried tones. They wore the expressions of parents of the newly mentally ill. It’s so incredibly stressful. After awhile it wears on you and becomes just another part of who you are. You get used to it.

Two hours later, we ask if Arabella was still getting her assessment. We reminded the receptionist that although our daughter is an adult we need to be notified if they were going to take her because if not we needed to transport her back to jail. The receptionist assured us they would notify us. A psychologist on her way out stopped to talk with us. She told us they would know if our daughter was having delusions and be able to get her the proper treatment. She thought the system failed us and offered suggestions for support and resources we weren’t aware of yet.

Awhile later we were notified Arabella was going to be admitted. They said we could sit with her since it would be awhile before she could be admitted. She was in the back room singing. That is another odd behavior lately, randomly singing in public. The intake person let us visit for awhile locking us in with Arabella.

By the time we got home that night and ate supper it was close to 10 PM. We accomplished what we set out to do which was getting our daughter treatment. It took a lot out of us, though, and we feel totally exhausted. But sometimes being a parent is doing everything you can do to help your child.

ghosted

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I think my mom is mad at me. I haven’t heard from her in days. She is like that sometimes. There have been periods in my life where she has given me the silent treatment for days and then later acts like nothing is wrong. Or sometimes she smothers me.

I think I know why she is angry. Last week my mom was on vacation with her sister visiting their other sister at her condo in Florida. She called me almost every day she was gone. The first time she called on speaker phone wanting an update about Arabella. I was really annoyed by that because, although I don’t mind my aunts and uncles know my daughter is in jail, I didn’t want to talk to them about it. It was during that conversation my mom told me something was wrong with my dad but she didn’t know what because he didn’t tell her while she was on speaker phone.

One day she called wanting me to go check on my dad because he didn’t pick up his phone when she called him. My dad doesn’t live next to his phone. I told her he probably forgot to charge it. It turned out not to be a big deal. My mom calls wolf a lot so it’s hard to believe anything she says. A couple months back my brother Luke wasn’t feeling well. My mom thought his kidneys were failing because he has kidney disease and practically asked me if I thought my husband would be willing to give my brother a kidney. It turned out being a virus or something and he wasn’t dying. I take everything my mom says with a grain of salt.

The next evening my mom called while I was driving for a night out to go to the film festival with Paul, Alex, and Lexi. I didn’t want to deal with it so I didn’t answer my phone. My mom is known for catching me when I’m off to do something fun and guilting me about it bringing me down. When I didn’t answer, she called Alex. She never calls my son so I knew she was tracking our location and knew he was with me. Alex called her back and she dumped all her problems on him.

The next day she called me again wanting me to go check on my dad. I asked her what was wrong and she said my dad didn’t get off the couch for a couple of days. I’m not sure why that was a problem because my dad hasn’t gotten off the couch for about 20 years. I asked her if he called stating he needed help and she said she didn’t talk to him for a couple of days. I told her to verify if he needed help before I drove out there. She never called me back.

I don’t talk to my dad, but I don’t not talk to him either. If we actually had a relationship and my mom wasn’t calling wolf all the time, I would’ve dropped everything to check up on him. I decided I don’t want to be a caregiver for my dad if he is in poor health. I don’t have that kind of relationship with him where I would be willing to do that. I have my hands full just dealing with my own problems right now. Besides my dad is a very tall and obese man and I don’t think I could lift him if I wanted to.

The next day my mom was back home. Later in the day she called 911 and she called late Monday night to say my dad was in kidney failure. It turns out he probably ended up getting a kidney infection while she was gone. She said he was probably going to die that evening then called Tuesday to say he was going to be okay. Wednesday Arabella was in court. I texted her with an update and she never responded. Then I gave her a call Thursday and she hasn’t called back yet. Today is Sunday and I haven’t talked to her since Tuesday. Maybe she is angry because I didn’t go into an anxiety frenzy or drop everything to check on my dad for her. I’m sick of guessing and stressing about it. I have no idea where my dad is right now.

I recently read a book about stopping being a caregiver for the borderline or narcissist. It really opened my eyes to a lot of things. I always thought as a child I was my brother Matt’s caregiver. But through reading the book, I realized I was my mother’s caregiver. I was the second mom. I was being the parent when I was a kid. It’s a little late, but I decided it’s finally time to take care of me. My parents are capable of taking care of themselves. Sometimes I have to set boundaries to protect myself. That’s not to say I won’t help if it’s truly needed.

I’m sure my mom will call in a couple days like nothing ever happened. Then she will be upset I am going on a road trip with my friends. I hope I’m wrong.

Getting through the hard times now

/ Outrunning my demons / 2 Comments

My dad is still with us. However, yesterday we found out Paul’s uncle passed away from lung cancer just like Paul’s mom and some of her other siblings did.

Arabella had her court date yesterday. Her suffocation and strangulation felony was dropped. One of her other felonies is now a misdemeanor. She currently is being charged with one felony, substantial battery. So, one felony and three misdemeanors. To get into mental health treatment court she can’t be convicted of violent crimes. I’m not really sure how it is all going to pan out. She is still in jail. We are not sure when she is getting out.

One of the things bothering me lately is that anything can really be used as a weapon if you want to use it that way. For example, Arabella cracked Will’s head open with her cell phone so much so that he needed staples. I’m not feeling very hopeful right now about her future. She crossed a new line when she hurt someone else and I can’t trust she won’t do it again.

She is still delusional, but not to the extent she was before. A couple weeks back she had decoded the Bible and God revealed the meaning of the seven seals to her. She said she needed to get out of jail to share the revelation with all the local pastors and preach in churches.

Her first court date she was rocking her body clutching a Bible. She looked stark raving mad. It’s hard to see your child like that. I find the religious delusions difficult to handle. It just seems so unfair to me. Whereas, my husband took comfort in these delusions. She believes in God and whatever happens we’ll see her again some day. Now her delusions focus on traumas she never experienced and everyone in the family having rare mental illnesses.

It’s been a rough week and we kept ourselves busy volunteering and spending time with family yesterday. Volunteering at times can be hard because we really see the full extent of human suffering. There was a woman whose husband just walked out and left her with 6 little kids. It’s hard not to feel emotional when I see so much suffering all around me. Most of the time it’s rewarding to be able to offer some kind of help to the suffering.

I feel like I am close to my breaking point. I don’t think I could handle anything else right now. I’m so afraid something else horrible will happen and I won’t be able to go on. Just one more thing could push me over the edge right now and it’s scary.

It’s been a hard week weather wise. We had a 50 degree drop in temperature and both my arthritis and colitis are acting up. Two of my brothers got blizzard conditions where they live. Thankfully we just got a dusting of snow. My stomach has been aching every day. Maybe it’s from all the stress. How do I know if I have an ulcer? I have acid re-flux and colitis already. But how do I know if I have an ulcer? Is the pain different? I don’t want to go in, do all these tests just to tell me I have what I already have. Then they will send me home and tell me to get plenty of sleep (insomniac), exercise (can’t run anymore because of arthritis), and manage my stress. Nobody can help me take away this stress.

I’m grateful for the supportive people I have in my life. Last night I just sat in my room alone and cried. My best friend called and offered me support. It helped me get through another day. I know I can talk to my best friend, my daughter Angel, my son Alex, and my husband. Yesterday I had conversations with all of them. I honestly don’t know what I would do without them. I still have my writing to do, a purpose. My son says he wants to have 8 kids, and my daughter Angel wants 6. Not sure if that’s going to happen, but maybe I’ll be a grandma soon. Next week my husband, friends, and I have a road trip planned to Traverse City. Good things will be coming in the future, I know it. I just have to get through the hard times now.

Solving communication issues

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Last week Paul and I had our couples therapy appointment. I think we had a breakthrough regarding some of the communication issues we have been having.

What I need from Paul is to be relational. I want to know he feels the same way or has some of the same worries so I don’t feel alone in my suffering. Paul wants me to give him hope by telling him everything is going to be okay and offer encouragement. For the longest time, we have been giving each other what we would want for ourselves. That has proved to be a frustrating experience all around.

The second time Arabella went to jail I felt very fearful for her future. There is a myriad of feelings involved when your child is incarcerated. I have been feeling despair, hopelessness, anger, guilt, anxiety, uncertainty, shame, and fear. Nothing really associated with ‘positive’ feelings about any of this. Now I usually keep these feelings to myself and go into a nice dark corner to lick my wounds. But my husband has been rather distraught by my isolation so through therapy I resolved to tell him how I feel instead. He found he didn’t really like what I was feeling.

When I am feeling despair, his response is to trust in God and everything will be okay which usually makes me quite angry. What is wrong with me? Why does he seem to have this faith that I don’t? How am I supposed to get out of survival mode if all I am doing is trying to survive? Who is the person I was supposed to be if I didn’t have childhood trauma? Trusting? Trusting in God? How do I have faith when I feel if God exists he doesn’t really care about me? Maybe he doesn’t exist at all. Why does he allow so much suffering? Why do my prayers go unanswered? If I have already given control over to God, why is he choosing this for my life?

In therapy, I told Paul I really wanted him to try to be relational, like talking to a best friend. I don’t want him to fix, solve, or tell me everything is going to be okay. I want him to commiserate with me that sometimes life really fucking sucks. He has been making the effort. He said he also has doubts about God, feels despair about our daughter’s future, and questions why there is so much unnecessary suffering in this world. It made me feel like I wasn’t alone.

Paul wants me to give him hope and tell him everything will be okay. This has been a struggle for me because it doesn’t feel authentic. I don’t know if everything is going to be okay. Arabella might end up killing herself, hurting someone else, and being in and out of jail or mental health treatment centers the rest of her life. It’s very likely the life she will end up living. I think I will outlive my daughter. Where is the hope in that? I have been trying to offer up hope and encouragement even if I don’t believe it because that is what my husband needs.

So I guess in some ways it has been beneficial to have our lives fall apart so we are able to rebuild it into something better. There really hasn’t been much Paul and I haven’t been through in life and if we survive it, maybe we can help others.

When we got home

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The last person I was expecting to see was the first person I saw when I got home. Will came over early in the morning to throw in some laundry for Arabella. He was too late as I already had a load going from our trip after leaving the luggage outside the night before to freeze any bug that may have come back with us on our trip.

I was worried about Will while on our trip. He with a broken hand and her with a bruised up face that didn’t come from his hand. It looked bad for him and I heard talk of some of the guys wanting to beat him up for what they thought he did. I blame my daughter for a lot of what happened, although Will was not completely innocent either. She treated him like garbage but was treated like the victim and him the aggressor. Almost everyone I talked to called him an asshole, piece of shit, and/or wanted to beat him up. But more violence wasn’t going to solve anything. I feel a lot of grief things worked out as poorly as they did. Now my daughter wants to move back home after their lease is up and I don’t know if I can go through that again but feel like I don’t have a choice.

Wednesday was a rough day having a lot to do when we got home and feeling an unexpected amount of jet lag. My brother and his family were coming over for the weekend for his daughter’s swim meet nearby. My brother called me that night. He already knew Arabella and Will went to jail. My mom called him to talk about it right away but she never called me. What a fool I am to think and hope my mom, my parents, would offer me support.

We had a nice Saturday at my niece’s swim meet. It was my dad’s birthday that Saturday. I didn’t call him or send him a card. I was planning on talking to him with my brother Luke but it didn’t work out that way. I didn’t know when Luke was talking to him and I fell asleep on the couch. Sunday we had plans to go out to eat with Paul’s step-dad Darryl who turned 70. His fiancé said to invite our kids. I didn’t want to invite Arabella. Was her face still bruised? Did she still have a black eye? Would she bring Will? Would she cause a scene? But everything went fine and her face was healed.

On Sunday afternoon I called my parents, and wished my dad a happy birthday. My mom told me how she made my dad all his favorite foods. His friends stopped by and gave him a funny card and how other family remembered his birthday. I was the only one who acknowledged his birthday from my household and I got the guilt trip. I felt traitorous for getting everyone together for Darryl’s birthday while ignoring my own dad. It was an awful feeling but I have to remember he caused his family to be estranged from him by his own actions. I am not responsible for the messes everyone gets into but yet sometimes I feel like I am.

Later that afternoon, Paul and I were trying to relax after the long weekend by having a few drinks and playing cards when the doorbell rang. Hardly anyone rings the doorbell and we weren’t expecting anyone. The police were at the door. I almost had a heart attack, or a panic attack, or whatever. Seeing a cop at your door is never a good thing when you have a suicidal daughter. For a brief moment fear coursed through my veins and I thought I was going to pass out.

The officer was looking for my son’s roommate. Someone called the police on him because they said he was driving erratically, not stopping fully at stop signs, and was possibly drunk. They followed him home and sent the police to our house. The officer asked if I noticed anything unusual. I said I noticed he went for a walk which seemed kind of strange. Paul went looking for our son’s roommate next door and couldn’t find him which lead the officer to think he was avoiding him because he was drunk. I said I would find him and he was in the apartment kitchen putting something in the microwave. He was totally sober and said there was a lady riding his ass all the way home. The officer talked to him a few minutes and was on his way.

I was pretty upset for the rest of the evening. We live in a hoity-toity neighborhood. There is a Facebook page dedicated to moms who have nothing better to do besides posting pictures of young guys driving through with loud mufflers. We are the Beverly Hillbillies. My husband drives a 10 year old truck and I drive a Kia, not a Lexus or BMW. My son’s roommate drives a junker that is probably older than he is. Some Karen probably got her panties in a bunch and called the police. It’s ridiculous. And here I thought somebody died. I am afraid of that though. I don’t know if my husband and I are going to be able to handle our daughter moving back home again. Just the thought of it is overwhelmingly stressful.

Just getting there

/ Outrunning my demons / 2 Comments

Just getting there was a huge undertaking. We even considered cancelling our trip. Over the weekend, our daughter Arabella got arrested. I was working a trade show the whole weekend. I found out my daughter called 911 ten minutes before the trade show began. I didn’t really know what was happening and she wouldn’t answer her phone. I had to do a whole lot of acting, put on a happy face. I didn’t have time to process my feelings.

Meanwhile, my husband was on an ice fishing trip up north. He took my mom with him to visit my brother Mark who lives up there. Even my best friend was heading up north to spend the weekend with her grandchildren. I didn’t really want to bother anyone until they were on the way home. Paul told my mom on the way home and my best friend’s husband told her. My husband returned home Sunday evening just after I returned home from the trade show. Our daughter was still in jail and we really didn’t know what to do. Should we bail her out? Our flight was scheduled for Thursday morning and we were heading out Wednesday afternoon to drive down to Chicago.

Monday morning Paul and I had an appointment with our couples counselor. We spent most of the appointment trying to figure out where to go and what to do next as far as our daughter is concerned. Afterwards, we had plans to go to Angel’s house for lunch. By the time we got there, Arabella called to say they released her from jail and she needed a ride home. Angel came with to pick her up. At that time, Angel’s husband was out of state for a couple weeks for work. She said she would take Arabella in and also her cat. Angel was going to be the go to person when we were gone. But she changed her mind about having her sister over shortly after we picked up Arabella because Arabella snapped at her and was treating her poorly.

Paul took Arabella into her apartment while I stayed in the car with Angel who was having a panic attack. We dropped Angel off at her house because she needed to get back to work and came back to talk to Arabella and Will. We talked to them both separately and together and figured out what all happened. Will was crying and felt great shame for his actions. Arabella was playing the victim. She wasn’t upset with Will as much as she was upset with the police. They bruised her arms while they restrained her. She says she has PTSD from the way they treated her. She is hellbent on suing the police and county jail. They did not give her her medication and she needed to contact her doctor before taking everything again. We talked about a safety plan going forward.

Tuesday morning it was on to the next problem. A major winter storm was heading our way. The airlines emailed me saying I could change our flight for no extra fee. I wanted to get out of here as soon as I could to avoid the storm which was starting Tuesday evening. It took several hours to change our plans. I had to call the resort to change our flights. It took a long time. Then I had to contact the hotel we were staying at in Chicago to see if we could move up our non-refundable room. The new plan was to fly out Wednesday evening and spend the night in Miami. After I made the new arrangements, I scrambled to pack and get everything done to leave a day early. It was very rushed and stressful.

It was iffy if we were even going to be able to get out on Wednesday. The whole state of Wisconsin was going to be a mess. We were expecting the biggest snowstorm in 4 years while Milwaukee was expecting the biggest ice storm in 50 years. Chicago was expecting a lot of rain and was very close to the border of an ice storm with temps slightly above freezing.

Our hotel room in Chicago was very nice. I was glad they did not give me a hard time for switching nights last minute. We headed to the airport and checked into our flight 3 hours early. We weren’t sure if we had to check in for our international flight because we were going to spend the night in Miami. At first the customer service rep said we couldn’t get our luggage in Miami and it would have to go to our final destination. So we opened up our luggage right there and pulled out whatever we would need for our night in Miami mindful of the ounces of toiletries. Then she said it was okay and we put it all back in again. Then the lady said we couldn’t check in until we filled out some extra forms to go to Curacao. The website wasn’t working and we didn’t know what to do. By that time our CSR was working with someone else so we asked another rep who was rude and told us to keep trying. Our CSR was able to give us another website that was working. We requested to sit by each other and the lady said the airlines always tries to have travel partners sit together.

We flew out on Ash Wednesday. It felt strange to see people at the airport with ashes on their foreheads. Everything seemed surreal. People were coming in from Milwaukee saying their flight was cancelled. It seemed like all flights out of Wisconsin, Minneapolis, and Detroit were cancelled due to the storm. There was a lady with a baby crying to the rude CSR saying she had to fly out right away because her mother was on her death bed. They turned her away. The line for security was incredibly long. It probably took us an hour and a half just to check in and go through security.

Paul and I were not seated next to each other on any flight despite what the CSR said. I was panicking from everything that happened leading up to the flight. I was anxiously watching the weather. There were strong severe storms almost all the way down to where we were going. I am terrified to fly as it is, but am utterly terrified of travelling through storms. Our flight ended up being delayed because crew was late coming to our flight from other flights.

I was hoping to find someone who was willing to change seats with Paul so we could sit by each other. I felt hopeful when I saw a crew member sitting in an aisle seat next to me. If anyone would be compassionate of a fear of flying, it would be a crew member. I already took a Xanax but I was still quite nervous. The crew member refused to trade seats with Paul because he didn’t want to be uncomfortable in a middle seat. He said since he knows everything about flying he could answer any questions I might have. At this point, I was really freaking out. I was so afraid my whole body started to shake. As the flight started, I was also in flight or fight mode. Then I had a panic attack. It seemed like in that moment I had started to process everything that happened over the past couple days. Then I started crying. It was awful and humiliating. I reached for my bottle of Xanax and popped another pill. In the process the cap of my water bottle went flying off somewhere and I just said screw it.

The lady next to me on the flight was really nice. She was stressed out as well because she had 20 minutes to make it to her next flight. She asked the crew member next to me if he would let her out to get her carry on. But he was being a real dick about it and would not move out of the way for her.

By the time we got to the hotel in Miami, it was close to midnight. We had to take the 7 AM shuttle back to the airport. This time we stayed at a run down roach hotel. But it had a free breakfast and shuttle to the airport. The flight to Curacao was uneventful. Paul was able to trade seats with someone. The only thing that was annoying were some kids who were running around whipping a water bottle and hitting people in the head while the parent did nothing. I thought of the parent the night before who was singing math songs with her kids who were the same age. It’s hard to be upset by the kids for the negligence of the parent. But what do I know, my own daughter just got out of jail.

It took a lot but we arrived in paradise. I was dismayed to find out I still received calls and texts with just wifi without a sim card. I did text Angel but no one else. Arabella texted that she wanted to move back home. My mom texted worried about who was going to plow out our driveway. Hello, my son and some of his friends do snow removal. It was the one thing I really wasn’t all that worried about. I was upset because my mom never bothered to talk to me about what was happening with Arabella. I knew everything was in good hands at home with Alex and Lexi taking care of snow removal and the cat. My daughter Angel can be relied on for anything even though it would be hard with her husband out of town. My best friend Cindy offered to help in any way she was needed and I appreciated the few supportive people I have in my life. My hope was that no one died. I was sure my problems would be waiting for me at home.

But as for now, I was in paradise and I was going to try to enjoy it.

Doing time

/ Outrunning my demons / 5 Comments

It’s been a very long and stressful weekend. My daughter ended up getting arrested. It was bad timing because I had to work a trade show all weekend. But when is it ever a good time to have a child arrested??

My husband was supposed to work the trade show with me but had a conflict. He had an ice fishing trip planned before we knew the dates of the trade show. My husband has been going with the same group of guys for the past 10 to 15 years. I told him to go ahead, that I could handle the trade show with the help of James our previous employee who still works for the business we sold. He does some very part-time work for us with our new business.

Paul left early Thursday morning. The day started out fine. I ended up getting my nails done and visiting my daughter Angel for supper. After lunch it started snowing and we ended up getting more snow than was predicted. The roads were very slippery. My son ended up getting called in to work. He wasn’t home when I went to bed that night, nor was he back home at 4 in the morning when I got up to go to the bathroom. I checked my phone just in case my son texted since at that time he would’ve been working 12 hours and I thought he would be home. When I checked my phone, I noticed a missed call and multiple texts from Arabella. She said that her and Will got in a fight and she wanted to move back home. It was hard to go back to sleep after that.

I tried calling my daughter in the morning but she was sleeping and didn’t answer. I decided to go outside and start shoveling. We have a huge driveway and my husband took the 4-wheeler we use to plow the driveway. I was pretty annoyed at this point. I didn’t sleep well. I wasn’t expecting to have to worry about the driveway and my daughter. And I didn’t want to go to the trade show. Trade shows aren’t really my thing. I’m not a people person. Talking to people and selling a product to me is a form of torture.

Ten minutes before the trade show started I got a text from my daughter saying that her boyfriend and her were fighting again and she called 911. After an hour, they both were carted off to jail. Meanwhile, I was at the trade show having to smile and pretend everything was okay. Clients asked how my kids were doing. Great, just great! Smile, smile, smile. It was miserable.

The next morning my daughter called from jail. She had about 3 minutes on a recorded line. She basically told me that her and Will got into a fight. She left for awhile. When she came back, he had another girl with him at the apartment. She flipped out and beat him up. She weighs around 100 lbs. more than he does. In the process she got a black eye and bruised face. They both got arrested. She was charged with 3 misdemeanors, one being battery. He was charged with a misdemeanor and a felony. I was really worried because she admitted to what she did wrong on a recorded call. I didn’t have much time to think about it because I was off to a 10 hour day at the trade show.

The night before I talked to Paul and my other kids until 2 AM about what happened. I didn’t sleep well and was really exhausted. Paul was really upset and was going to cancel the rest of his trip. We were debating about bailing our daughter out. I convinced Paul we should continue on with our plans. The main feelings we felt were sadness and anger. Anger at Will and our daughter for getting physical in their fight. Sadness that the relationship they had was now over. Most people were angry with Will. But we didn’t think he deserved a felony. My daughter was at least 50% of the problem. It was very hard to see her mug shot.

Saturday was an exhausting day. Sunday was not much better. I was having insomnia and nightmares. At least it was going to be a shorter day at the trade show and Paul was coming home. Thankfully this morning we had an appointment with our couples counselor. I was worried about a lot of things. I was worried about my daughter’s pets in her apartment. They didn’t give her any of her medications at jail. She was off her meds for 5 days. We are leaving on vacation on Wednesday. Should we still go? The make matters worse, we are expecting a blizzard on Wednesday. My daughter had her hearing today. Would we bail her out or leave her in jail while we are gone? Did we need to get a lawyer? What was going to happen next? Could I get her key to check on her pets? Could I get her meds to her? One medication she wasn’t supposed to stop abruptly.

I felt like I had to put all my feelings on a shelf over the weekend. But maybe that was a good thing. The trade show was very distracting. Every evening James and I went out afterwards for drinks. I ran into some friends of mine which was nice. I didn’t have time to worry as much as I would’ve sitting home alone.

Right after we got out of our appointment with the counselor, we got a call from Arabella that both her and Will were out of jail. If they do certain things, their charges will be dismissed. They went back to their apartment. We sat down and talked to them for an hour to see if they would be safe. We came up with a safety plan. There was relief in knowing we didn’t have to make some hard choices such as if we needed to bail her out or keep her in jail while we were gone.

I was worried my daughter would be suicidal. She was on suicide watch at jail. Apparently they stripped her down and strapped her to a chair. In doing so they bruised up her arms. Her body was a big massive bruise. She was also self-harming in this whole process. Will said Arabella was banging her head against the wall and burning herself. He was trying to stop her. I was worried they might be suicidal or harm each other again. If they do, they will both be in jail for awhile.

I’ve come to the conclusion that this is the way my life is going to be. There will always be problems it will be hard to catch a break from. We are still planning on going on our trip. We might have to leave a day early because of the blizzard to make the drive down to Chicago to catch our flight. There is not much I can do right now. My daughter is an adult and my hands are tied. I don’t have much control over what happens or winter storms. But as of right now I think everything is okay and that is all I can ask for.

Girl’s night(mare)

/ Outrunning my demons / Leave a comment

We got past the first hurdle. We were supposed to get a snowstorm, somewhere between 4 and 6 inches. But beyond a foreboding sky, nothing happened besides a few snowflakes. That’s why living here we never cancel for what might be. Our girls night went on as planned.

I picked up my daughters, Angel and Arabella, and my son’s girlfriend Lexi. We went to a couple thrift stores. I didn’t find much. A couple days before I did some pre-shopping and found more. I was so convinced I was going to have to cancel, I decided to hit up a thrift store a couple days before to stave off total disappointment if I had to cancel.

Everything went well, at first. After we went to a couple thrift stores, we decided to go out to eat then call it a night. We were at the end of our meal when the trouble started. Arabella started talking about how the residential treatment facility we sent her to was a cult. She started to talk about this a couple weeks ago to me. She talked about how we should sue them because they stole our money. I told her that the DBT therapy program in essence was to reprogram disordered thinking. She told us the psychiatrist was the cult leader. The food there sucked. They were out to get her and she said the other girls in the program felt the same way. They used psychological torture and now she has PTSD from it.

The conversation was getting uncomfortable and Arabella wouldn’t let it go. Angel tried to change the conversation by thanking me for the meal and saying how she really liked her food. It’s a tactic I often use myself. Hey, how about that snowstorm we didn’t get? Except this time it didn’t work out too well. Arabella got angry and called her sister a bitch. She was sitting next to her sister and was loud and in her face. My heart started beating faster as the anxiety rushed in. Angel tried to diffuse the situation by not fighting back. Where was that waitress with the boxes for our food??? Arabella was still ranting as Angel hunted down the waitress for the boxes. We got out of there as quickly as we could. Things were going downhill fast.

I dropped Angel off at her house first. I was afraid she was going to be upset, and she was afraid I was upset. I talked to her a few brief minutes as I helped her carry her things into her house. I told her she handled her sister very well. She didn’t engage when her sister called her a bitch multiple times. I told her I was sorry it had to be like that with her sister. When Arabella is delusional, nothing can convince her otherwise. I try to validate her, but I don’t agree with her and I think she knows this. On the ride home, Arabella kept repeating how much Angel is a bitch and how she has PTSD from residential and her bad childhood.

After dropping Arabella off, I spoke to Lexi the rest of the ride home about Arabella since she has never seen her like that. I told her Arabella does not have PTSD but she thinks she does. We had a good conversation. The strange thing is that both Lexi and I do have PTSD from our childhoods. We can relate to each other with similar stories of trauma and triggers that no one else seems to understand. I want to help her with my own experiences, but I think she really needs professional help.

I feel upset that Arabella does not appreciate the sacrifice we made financially to get her residential treatment. I still think it helped her and probably saved her life. I will not agree they were out to get her.

But, in all honesty, I do feel some sense of relief in her accusations. She accused me of abusing, torturing, and starving her before. She even made those accusations against me while she was in residential, which being a mandatory reporter, the therapist shared she had to contact child protective services. It was devastating and anxiety provoking.

I know some people believed her by the way they treated me. If I didn’t know her, I would probably believe her too. Good thing she is obese because it gave less credibility to her starvation accusations. Being accused of doing things I never did…I can’t even describe to you the pain that caused me as a parent who tried everything in my power to help her. She caused me a lot more trauma than I ever caused her.

When she started the accusations against the residential treatment facility, she sounded paranoid and delusional. I saw the parallel between that and her accusations against me. No one in their right mind would believe a word she says. But she believes it and is adamant about it.

I think it will be awhile before we have another girl’s night.

Observations of a clean freak

/ Outrunning my demons / 8 Comments

Clean out your cars people at least before you sell them. Last night my daughter Arabella stopped by and basically called me a clean freak. I had to chuckle over her negative(?) comment. Last night we got done with supper really late. My husband made his famous pizza as a thank you to my son’s roommate for doing a welding project in the restoration of my son’s car. It seemed like all of his friends also heard about the project and famous pizza because before you knew it there was a lot more than a couple people. So it got very late indeed…so I said screw it, I’ll clean up in the morning. Then I had the thought…what if my house was on fire…and all these buff firemen came in my house…instead of saving us they would exclaim how dirty my kitchen was. I’d probably go back to clean the house before it burned to the ground.

Now remember for just a second that I grew up in a house that people have commented was gross or disgusting. Not only did my parents have a propensity for mild to moderate hoarding, they kept a dirty house as well. Tables were too cluttered to eat on. Chairs too full of papers to sit on. Dirty dishes, rotten food on the counter, uncleaned toilets, piss on the floor type of thing. They didn’t throw anything out. To them it brought comfort, to me it gave a fear of walking around barefoot. Strange how I still feel like people are going to judge the cleanliness of my house.

I feel a lot of anxiety when strangers come to my house. I even felt a lot of anxiety when the guy came over to take my son’s car to the salvage yard. Although my son cleaned the car out, I secretly cleaned out the car some more. After all, the car was in my name. As if the guy was going to come back and say he changed his mind the car wasn’t clean enough for his junkyard. I do honestly worry about those types of things.

Recently we bought cars from private sellers. I am now realizing that perhaps I am a clean freak for cleaning a car for the junkyard. I’m going to tell you the condition of my kid’s cars when they were purchased.

My son’s car was purchased in November from a guy who was right around my son’s age. I think his medical records said he was 21. Yes, he left his medical records in the car. He was fully vaccinated if that is a concern of yours. He also left pertinent info about the car in the car so I had to read through some stuff because it was important such as where he bought the car from, for how much, how many miles, and the car facts such as it was never in an accident. You know, the good days of the car before someone ran a red light and totaled it.

I tried hard not to look at his medical records. I did notice the guy was being treated for anxiety and suffered from an allergy so bad he needed an Epi-pen. Now I surmised his anxiety was probably not as bad as mine because otherwise why would you leave your medical info in your car when you sell it. He also left all of the information regarding his speeding tickets. I knew what auto insurance company he was going through. I had his full name, address, and date of birth. He also apparently liked cheap cigars and had bad taste in music. I found it utterly horrifying he left so much personal info in the vehicle. I glanced over everything and kept anything pertinent to the car and threw the rest out. I was thinking about driving to his house to return it but I think that would be more mortifying to him. I felt guilty about having to go through all the stuff he left in the car. Like it was my fault he left a gold mine for someone to steal his identity.

My daughter got a car this past weekend. We purchased the car from an elderly man whose wife passed away. The car belonged to his wife and he was no longer in need of it. She rarely drove it. While we were on the test drive I checked out the pockets in the back seat. Apparently that is a spot people forget about. Inside the back pocket were two little shooters of whiskey, one empty one full. On the floor was a cushion that I caught a whiff of piss on. There were other things like a pump you would use to blow up an air mattress. His wife’s sunglasses in the cupholder. Masks under the visor. Receipts and napkins in the center console. Paperwork of repairs done. The jackpot was a handicap parking permit that expires in 2026 which I hope my daughter doesn’t use when she is feeling lazy.

Seriously, if I was thinking of selling my car the first thing I would do is clean it out. But maybe that is just me since I even do a clean out for the junkyard. Since it was a cold day, we went inside the guy’s house to exchange the money and title. The guy said his wife was a collector. He asked if I wanted any teacups, decorative spoons or thimbles, Avon figurines, or stuffed animals. He tried to sell my daughter a stuffed animal that was older than her dressed in Christmas clothes and played an annoying tune for $10. I told him I wasn’t much of a collector. He seemed like a lonely man who didn’t have a lot of people to talk to. His house was warm and clean. He was playing country music and possibly had a cup of straight whiskey on his end table. He had a Bible sitting out nearby. He told us what he did for a living before retirement and talked about a successful son who lived far away.

Buying cars from people sure gives you an interesting look into the lives of other people. Maybe more than I wanted to know. But that’s just my observations as a clean freak.

Yurt not trusting me

/ Outrunning my demons / 6 Comments

This weekend we had plans with friends to stay at a yurt. It seemed like a great idea after a few drinks while talking with Tom and Lisa at our daughter’s wedding. It still seemed like a good idea when Lisa booked the trip in February the next day.

The yurt is located in the middle of nowhere in some state park in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan. It was going to take a couple hours to drive there. Apparently it does not have electricity nor does it have running water. Winter camping at its finest with a vault toilet nearby. The only amenities are a couple bunk beds, a table, and a wood stove with wood to keep a fire going so nobody freezes to death.

Freezing to death…it’s been a cold week here in Wisconsin. I’ve heard of several reports of people freezing to death within this past week. Will, without a car, was still planning on riding his bike to work. Not only is it cold, it is icy because salt doesn’t melt ice well when it’s 20 below. I don’t think I could live with myself if I saw a picture of him dead on the morning news. So I let my daughter borrow my car so he would have a way to work.

I gave my friend Lisa a call this week to plan the trip to the yurt. Lisa said their snowmobile wasn’t working. They ordered parts they thought might fix it which were supposed to show up on Tuesday but didn’t arrive until Wednesday. To get to the yurt, we would need to hike almost 5 miles on a snow covered path or breeze in on a snowmobile.

I reminded myself of the not so fond memory of the last time I ‘ran’ 5 miles over a year ago. It was the last race I ever did. I almost didn’t finish. Not too long before that, I finished my first 50k. Yes, a 50k! It was at that point I knew something was wrong. I ran about half the race then I had this horrible pain in my ankle where I could barely walk. I found out later that under exertion I have a bone spur which hits a nerve. At times I can barely walk and the next minute it’s fine. I also had a terrible backache.

Back in the day, Lisa and I used to run together. That was before her daughter died, before she moved away. Those days were some of the best times in my life. We trained together. She was a better runner than me but she kept me on my toes. Between the two of us, we could place in almost every small town race. I typically placed in the top 10% of my age group in 10k’s and half-marathons. I was finally able to achieve at a sport after always being picked last as a kid for teams in gym class. I even had to do extra credit in middle school to pass gym class. Turns out I was better at writing book reports than doing any kind of sport. But running I guess you could say I ran with it.

Now my daughter Angel is training for her first half-marathon. At times I see her hard on herself if she has a bad run. I too was very hard on myself on bad running days. Recently I told her that even a bad run, she is still able to run. What I wouldn’t give now for a bad run. These are things you can say once it’s gone. But it is truly not gone because I am able to enjoy the process through her.

The part for the snowmobile came in and it didn’t fix the problem. Today Tom bought a new battery and it still didn’t work. Now they are thinking the starter on the snowmobile needs fixing and they will need to take it in somewhere to be fixed.

Today I made the decision to not go to the yurt if the snowmobile wasn’t working. The high for tomorrow is 3 with lows below zero. Maybe I would’ve gone if I didn’t have to walk 5 miles through the snow in subzero temperatures with all our gear and try to get there before dark. A couple years ago nothing would’ve stopped me. But now I can’t even trust myself anymore. With spotty phone coverage, who knows? I might end up on the news and not in a good way. Although I’m a planner, I haven’t given too much thought to my funeral yet.

I feel bad for wimping out. But I also know my limitations. All the self-discipline in the world won’t change a thing when my body doesn’t listen to my mind anymore. Looks like I’ll have some time to take Arabella car shopping after all.