delusions

Safe for now

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I feel like I got my daughter back. The daughter I had before everything started. Before the suicide attempts, the cutting, sneaking out late at night to meet up with strangers, the delusions, the depression, the mania, hospitalizations, jail, and all the other struggles I’ve been writing about the past 4+ years. We are getting along better than we have before.

Everything changed once she was on the right medication. At her last hospitalization, they put her on a mega dose of the powerful anti-psychotic Haldol. The doctor has been slowly trying to taper her off the medication. In the beginning her doctor also put her on Lithium as a mood stabilizer. She has been diagnosed with Schizoaffective Disorder which is a mix of schizophrenia and bipolar. After several months, her doctor tried to take her off of Lithium thinking an anti-psychotic would be enough to manage her symptoms. After a week off of Lithium, she started to hear voices telling her to kill herself. Thankfully she communicated what was happening to her with me. I called the doctor’s office and they put her back on Lithium. Once again she was stable.

At the last appointment, the doctor tried to reduce her Haldol. He wants her off of the medication altogether. I asked the doctor if the hospital made a mistake by putting her on Haldol in the first place. He said when Arabella was admitted to the hospital she was very, very psychotic. If a psychiatrist says that it must mean a lot more than usual. They had her on ten times the average dose. That’s why when we visited her in the hospital, we were traumatized to see her because she was shaking and couldn’t talk right. Her jaw was tremoring and her words were slurred. They put her on another medication for side effects of Haldol and that caused her to have vision changes.

At the last appointment, the doctor tried to taper Arabella down to a high dose within the normal range. She didn’t respond well. She started to have intrusive violent thoughts. He decided to put her back on her dose previous to her last appointment. And once again, she is stable and enjoyable to be around. If it was up to me right now, I would like to keep her on the medication she is on now for the rest of her life. But the doctor said that after being on Haldol long term she will very likely have irreversible side effects similar to the ones she had before on the mega high dose. By age 30, the medication that is saving her now will cause her to be physically disabled by her condition.

Is it worth it? We might not have another choice. The doctor said it’s going to be a very long process to get her where she needs to be. But as for right now, it’s wonderful to have my daughter back.

Green light, red light 7

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It has been a whole month now since the mania and delusions started. Arabella is gradually getting better, but these kinds of medications take time to kick in fully.

The endless pacing back and forth has gotten slower but she can’t sit down. When she talks her voice isn’t as loud as if she is yelling. She no longer talks non-stop but she is still constantly interrupting conversations. Having a conversation in the room she is in is next to impossible. If we go in a different room, she might knock on the door.

She has become like that of a young girl, around 6 or 7. She has given up smoking. I’m not sure if it is because she now thinks she is too young or even if it will stick after all this is over. If it ever ends.

The voices in her head are quieting. I didn’t know she heard voices. She told us she thought everyone heard voices. Sometimes the voices told her to do awful things like cut or kill herself. Sometimes the voices she hears are like my voice. It can almost make sense to me why she thought I was tormenting her.

It’s exhausting. At times the suffering and grief is unbearable. Sometimes I think this is going to kill me. Sometimes I don’t even care if it does.

I am envious of people who in times like these can lean on their faith to bring them peace, comfort, and hope. As a seeker, I never can seem to find what I’m chasing after.

Why has this been what is chosen for me, my daughter, my family.

Green light, red light 6

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Several times during her hospital stay, Arabella put in requests to come back home. On day 10, we picked her up and brought her back home. She was doing better, a lot better than when we took her in. But she was still manic and delusional. Maybe our expectations were too high. Or maybe we picked her up too early.

She didn’t sleep the first night we brought her home. The hospital changed all her medications. Then when she got home, she took her old nightly medications. It was a jumbled up mess so we decided to call her psychiatrist’s office in the morning to figure it all out. The process of figuring everything out took the whole day. By that afternoon, things got progressively worse. Arabella was very manic and kept interrupting us every few minutes to tell us a bunch of nonsense. By late afternoon, Arabella told us she took a couple of gummies and smoked weed. She was stoned out of her mind, and totally freaking out.

My mom stopped by for a random visit right around that time. She wanted to go for a walk, but I was in the middle of a million things. It’s nearly impossible to get all the things done I wanted to get done when I’m constantly interrupted and in crisis mode. That is when we received a call back from the doctor’s office. Paul and I took the call in Paul’s office on speaker phone while both my mom and Arabella came in and talked to us while we were having a serious discussion with the nurse. We were beyond annoyed, frustrated, and stressed.

The nurse said the doctor wanted to discontinue some of the new meds from the hospital while adding back some of the old meds and discontinuing some others. They were going to call the prescriptions into the pharmacy and would be available two hours before the pharmacy closed. She was going to need to start the new medications that evening. I was going to need to figure it all out before she went to bed. I took a bag full of her medications on hand and went through everything while waiting for the pharmacy.

I needed to go through the meds, fold laundry, and make supper before picking up the meds. My mom tried calling several times while I was getting everything together to make supper. I figured she wanted to talk about Arabella since she left while we were on the phone with the doctor’s office. I ignored her call because I was in a real hurry and didn’t want to take the time to explain everything yet again.

Then Paul came into the room while talking on the phone. He asked whoever it was if they were going to be arrested. I knew he wasn’t talking to Arabella since she was in her room. It was my mom. He said that while she was on the way home she hit a guy on a motorcycle with her car. He said that I needed to go pick her up from the scene of the accident. He said my mom was okay. The guy on the motorcycle was alive but injured.

While in a crisis, we got hit with yet another crisis. I abandoned supper to get ready to pick up my mom. Paul said he would pick up the medication before the pharmacy closed. He wanted me to do it originally because it was my strong suit. On the way out the door, I called my best friend Cindy on the phone. She lived a couple blocks from the accident. She told me I should come over to her house and she would drive me because I was way too shook up myself.

Cindy and I picked up my mom from the place where they towed her car and the motorcycle. Good thing Paul picked up the medication because the pharmacy closed before I got home. The pharmacy screwed up the medication. But at least they gave her a prescription for something she was no longer using. The hospital also gave her an injectable medicine the day she left and I got a prescription bottle with a vial of the injection in it.

While all of that was happening, I received a call from Alex’s friend. It was his 21st birthday that evening and they wanted me to come out celebrating with them. It was a sweet gesture that my kid’s friends also think of me as their friend as well. Paul was just meeting with this young man and helping him set goals to get his GED which he just finished. I will always think of my kid’s friends as children even when they are in their 20’s and able to go out to the bars. If anything, I was worried that they would all make it home safely. Especially after the kind of day I was having.

They weren’t the only ones on the road. Dan and Angel were just getting home from a vacation in Japan. The flight back home was a rough one, then they had to drive another 4 hours to get back home. I was anxious all around. My nerves were shot and I didn’t know how much longer I could handle the stress. Bad news doesn’t seem to shock me anymore.

Now I find it shocking when good things happen.

Green light, red light 5

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Another crisis was averted when Arabella rescinded the release order she signed the day after her voluntary commitment. Paul and I decided it was time for us to visit Arabella.

We arrived during adult visiting hours in the evening. Once again we had to lock up all of our belongings including our cell phones and sat in the waiting room with a sad lot of people. Like in an elevator, no one looked long at each other. We all got swept by the metal detector screening us for weapons. Then with a buzz the outside door unlocked and we silently walked down the long hallway into the cafeteria where we waited for our loved ones to arrive.

It seemed like we waited a long time for Arabella to arrive. Everyone else arrived before her. We watched while the others embraced with a smile and sat down as if in a regular restaurant to have normal conversations. Arabella arrived in disarray clutching a notebook with the word password written on it. She said password was the password and if we could read it, we could look inside. She cautioned us that the hospital was bugged. First we had to bug the system to debug the system. It was strange because they were having issues with their phone system which Arabella slid comfortably into a delusion that everything was bugged so we had to go to a different algorithm.

Arabella said she was a genetic freak. She was born of one woman and two men. She had an extra chromosome. She said she was colorblind, men can only see primary colors and women can only see secondary colors. She said she liked apple juice because she ate from the tree of knowledge of good and evil. When she ate she knew all the answers to all the problems of the world.

She said she needed Bryan to come to the hospital because he was her soulmate, her other half. Her bloodwork wouldn’t be complete without him coming in the have his blood drawn. They were storm chasers and she could leave now because it wasn’t storming. She spoke of science, DNA, physics, time travel, and biology. The things she was saying had an iota of truth but was jumbled and didn’t make a lot of sense. She was unable to hold a conversation with us.

But the most troubling thing was that she was slurring her words off and on. We noticed that when we were talking on the phone several times but thought maybe it was from being sedated. She held her mouth funny at random times and words almost seemed to whistle through her teeth. She said she couldn’t talk because no one ever showed her how to talk right. She also said no one ever showed her how to brush her teeth and she had gingivitis.

We were very concerned about her new symptoms. Then she started singing. They said sometimes she would sing loudly in her room. When visiting time was over, the patients had to line up on one side and the visitors on the other. Arabella went her own way and started to take one of the signs off the wall. We told her she couldn’t take the signs off the wall.

We left in shock. Our daughter was still gone. Would she ever be the same again?

Green light, red light 4

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The aftermath after our daughter was committed was like that of a bomb going off. We were left with shattered lives and broken pieces of rubble. Shards impossible to put back together even as it was a few weeks before everything crumbled.

I can’t find the way back.

We both walked around like zombies afterwards. It’s even hard to focus enough to tell this story adequately. But that’s all a part of being in crisis mode. In utter despair our tears fell to the ground. Arabella was doing so well for the first six months after jail living at home. She found a job. We gave her a stable environment and that gave us a false sense of hope and control. The stress of her tonsillectomy was enough to send her into a relapse worse than we ever saw her in before. She was seeing things and talking to people who weren’t there.

I can’t find the road she is on.

The prognosis bleak, the illness severe. But it’s not the kind of illness where anyone brought her flowers and sent her cards to get well soon. There will be no speedy recovery. Schizophrenia, people shudder in fear and stay away as if it’s contagious. It’s not the mental illness offering up cutesy meme’s of awareness and support. It’s scary and shameful without go fund me and caring bridge pages.

I can’t find anyone who really cares.

I don’t want to talk about it over and over again to people who don’t understand. It’s exhausting in every possible way. I feel tired when I wake up. Bipolar mania, she needs support day and night. She needs support when I need to sleep. No, you can’t buy a snake. You talk too long and too loud. I need a break just to get the things done I need to get done.

I don’t have the strength to do this anymore.

Borderline personality disorder, sometimes you love me and other times you hate me. Which will it be today? It’s too much trapped inside of one body. Finally the doctors were seeing in the hospital what we were seeing at home. Right away, she signed an AMA (against medical advice) to come back home. They had 24 hours to evaluate her before she was going to come back home. Could we even take her back home? She had nowhere else to go.

I don’t know how to help her.

Sunday morning I tried to hide my swollen eyes as I went to church. I felt bitterness enter my heart. I didn’t want to see the happy healthy families. I don’t want to hear about kids going into the ministry. My daughter thinks she is God, does that count? It’s painful to see the normalcy all around me, like being impoverished while everyone is feasting on their riches. I don’t feel the joy or God’s blessings. I think I’ve been cursed since the day I was born. I don’t want to see suffering anymore. Sometimes I even get bored with my feelings of anger towards a God who is supposed to be loving.

Yet I can’t find the way.

What were we going to do? Where are the answers? What if she comes home too early in an agitated psychotic state? Do I call the police? Do I send her back to jail? Do I have her face her felonies or go to prison for an illness she didn’t choose and doesn’t have control over? How was I going to make hard decisions when I couldn’t even think? Decisions that could affect the rest of her life.

Yet I can’t find the way.

We had to find a way to get her to stay as if our very lives depended on it.

Where is the way?

Green light, red light 3

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Arabella said she would go to the hospital if her dog Bryan could go with her. We waited for what seemed like an hour for the crisis center employee to find an open bed. Afterwards, she told us she found a place for Arabella. However, they would not accept dogs real or imagined. Arabella said that was okay because she was on the same wavelength as Bryan so she could take him in her mind. As soon as we could, we left for the hospital. The officers reminded Arabella to follow the rules and they left as well.

The ride to the hospital was long, not in distance but in endurance. Although it was late morning, I was exhausted. Arabella kept talking about algorithms, time travel, and said strange things like her dad wasn’t her dad. She didn’t have a dad, but then all dads were collectively her dad. She wasn’t making a lot of sense and I just tried to listen and placate her until we got there.

We went along with Arabella into the assessment room. We had to lock up all our belongings in a locker before we could enter. They took a wand to sweep over our bodies for weapons. Finding none, they opened the door with a badge and took us into the assessment room without windows. Once we entered, the door locked behind us closing us in the small room with the assessor.

There was paperwork to fill out and questions to answer. We didn’t have all the answers, but most of the time Arabella answered with green light, red light so we gave him our best guess. When was the last time that Arabella felt suicidal? We didn’t know. She was having a hard time being present. At times, she would laugh at nothing. When I asked her why she was laughing, she responded she could see lights and diamonds all over the walls.

On some forms, she wrote down that her name was God. She didn’t know how old she was because she was in an alternate world with alternate time. The questions she answered either yes or no almost angrily without expression. She told the assessor that she was married to Bryan and she lived with him. She said she was the president of the United States. About ten minutes later, the assessor asked Arabella if she was the president in which she emphatically answered, “What, NO.” She said she was several cartoon characters.

Arabella tapped on the assessors computer and said the computer was bugged. Then she stopped answering most questions and asked us repeatedly as her parents whether we chose red light or green light. If we answered green light, she said it was time to go home. If we answered red light, she said it was time to stop and go home. She wanted to get back to Bryan who was waiting for her at home.

After awhile, I asked the assessor what time it was. I made lunch plans with my friend Jen several weeks ago. Earlier in the morning, I pushed the time back to 12:30. It was already past 12:30. I asked the assessor if I could be let out to check my phone. Jen texted me 10 minutes earlier to tell me she was waiting for me at a table. What was I going to do? I asked the assessor if he thought it would be a while yet. He said the assessment was a lot more complex then he thought and would probably be a while. I decided to meet up with my friend and left Paul behind with Arabella.

I ordered a large pizza to bring some food back for him. We left in such a hurry we didn’t bring anything with us to even drink. In the hours we were there, we were each offered a small bottle of water. That was it. I quickly stopped back home to check on the dogs and grab my glasses. Everything was just as we left it. The lights were on and the coffee mugs were left on the table. As I was heading back I received a text from Paul saying he was ready to go home.

It was a miracle he was able to talk Arabella into admitting herself into the hospital to receive help. We were in a crisis mode, but the good news was that the doctors were finally able to see Arabella in the psychotic state we were telling them about. The last time it happened, she got arrested.

Green light, red light 1

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Arabella’s tonsillectomy on Valentine’s Day went smoothly. Four days after the surgery, we did end up taking her to the ER late one evening because she was bleeding from one side. I felt rather iffy about taking her in. I wanted to try ice chips and some other things first but she was having nothing to do with it. She was freaking out and said if I didn’t take her in, she would drive herself. I ended up taking her in more because of her mental state than her physical state. She was starting to spiral. It didn’t turn out to be anything serious.

Other than that, everything was relatively uneventful. For a week, she had a really sore throat and could barely talk. Once she started feeling better, she did nothing but talk. At first I thought she was just making up for lost time. She was awake a lot more than normal. She started asking if she could have a pet snake. I told her no. She went to the pet store to look at snakes, did a little begging but the answer remained the same.

The next several days she didn’t seem to sleep at all. She spent much of her time playing video games, watching TV, and texting friends. She seemed rather agitated if anyone tried to get a word in edgewise and dominated conversations. She started to talk about strange ideas. She said she had Dissociative Identity Disorder and that cartoon characters were her different personalities. Then she said she had autism. She said she was just trying to understand herself and while she wasn’t sleeping her brain was processing a lot of information quickly.

She was awake when I woke up in the morning, awake all day, and pacing the floor in the evening. She was awake when I checked on her in the middle of the night. She told me her best friend Bryan was the reincarnation of Jesus Christ and she was the reincarnation of Mary Magdalene. The Bible, YouTubers, and TV shows were talking to her in subliminal messages. She was able to go to a different algorithm in an alternate world.

She set up an appointment with a new therapist. She left on time wearing inappropriate clothing with unwashed stringy hair. I was feeling hopeful about it but later she said she didn’t go. She couldn’t tell me why she didn’t go. I was concerned it might be a probation violation. By that time it was almost a full week of mania and delusions which were progressively getting worse. One of her friends reached out to me saying she was worried that my daughter needed help. She was texting some people nonstop about her delusional thoughts.

Any hopes I had of her living a relatively normal life were completely dashed. The first six months after getting out of jail, she was doing really well. Everyone was getting along. She was taking showers and wearing makeup. She got a job and was scheduled to go back to work after her surgery. Then after surgery everything started falling apart. I don’t even know why.

She said she was cutting herself to try to get out of her body. But now her skin was see through. She had x-ray vision and was able to see into people’s souls. She had super powers. It’s all very hard to explain because it makes so little sense to me.

By Friday morning, she was a lot worse. We knew we had to do something. When I went to check in on Arabella in the morning, she screamed and swore at me wanting me to go away. She was very agitated and didn’t want to talk. I could hear her in her room angrily yelling and swearing on a one sided conversation.

The first call we were going to make was to the psychiatrist’s office which wasn’t open yet. In the meantime, we got ready to leave in a moment’s notice.

Hanging on

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I reached the end of my rope yet somehow still kept hanging on. An ambulance ride to the ER, two MRI’s, an EEG, and 25 vials of blood later nothing can be found wrong with me. I’ve heard that stress can kill you and boy did it do a number on me. I am feeling better, back to myself again. Or back to some sad version of me anyway.

My dad had his surgery, spent the night in the hospital, and was back in the ER the following day. But things have settled down. My brother Luke was in town and stopped by for a visit. It’s good to know we are on the same page. Our mom is starting to slip mentally. We are not sure what to do about it. She is not taking good care of our dad. But our dad made his own bed through a lot of bad decisions and has to live with that. We are going to play things by ear. Kind of like a watchful waiting.

Meanwhile, we are starting to prepare for Arabella to get out of jail. Yesterday we invited our old friend over whom we haven’t seen in over 10 years and told him our daughter was accusing him of raping her as an infant. It was a difficult but necessary conversation since Arabella spoke recently of contacting him when she gets out of jail. We know he didn’t do it. Come to find out he now lives a block away from us. I did a Google search on him and it pulled up his full address and phone number. If I could find him in two seconds, I know she will be able to as well. She could even walk to his house to confront him. We had to warn him. He had no idea why we would reach out after all these years. He thought maybe we were offering him a job or something not telling him he might have to watch his back and possibly file a restraining order.

This is the first summer I’m not really looking forward to. Life just has been way too serious lately and not very much fun. I’m not sure what life is going to look like when our daughter gets home. Plus now we have legal expenses and medical bills when I’d rather use the money for travelling.

On a good note, my husband, Angel, and Alex really stepped up when I was sick. I have a core group of people who are pulling for me. Through all of the stress, Paul and I are working together to keep our marriage strong. Although I’d rather not struggle at all, it helps to have a partner to go through this together. I’m not very hopeful for my daughter’s future, but we are doing everything we can to support her which I can say no matter what happens we did all we could.

We might have to put down our cat in the near future. He is around 17-years-old and is not in the best health. I know, I know…not a lot of good news, but that’s life. I’m just glad right now to be feeling better. What a wake up call. I thought I had MS. I had visions of myself spending a good chunk of the rest of my life in a wheelchair. It was terrifying and I can’t imagine having serious health issues. I think it opened my eyes in a new way to the suffering of others. It’s scary when your body doesn’t do what you want it to do. I couldn’t trust myself. I had to cancel the motorcycle class and I’ve decided to let that dream go.

I’ve been trying to deal with my stress in a healthy way. It got pretty scary when what was once working no longer seemed to work. I think I’m back on track again. We’ll see what happens.

Breakdown

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I think it started with the Mother’s Day letter I got in the mail Arabella sent me from the mental hospital. It was a well written heartfelt letter telling me what a great mother I am. When she called me later that afternoon from jail I was looking forward to talking to her. But since she wrote the good mom letter her mood had changed to me being a bad mom. The contrast from the letter to the phone call the same day I read it was from day to night. She accused my husband and I of horrible things to the point where my husband walked away from the call and I stayed. She blamed us for being shitty parents and that is why she is in jail.

It was that day I decided to let it go. I had to accept she is never going to change. Everyone had been harping on me to let go and let God. I don’t understand how people can find comfort in God. Although I loosely believe all I seem to find is anger and pain. I made the choice to let go and I stopped caring. I had finally reached the end of my rope. I drank more than I ever drank in my life. I just didn’t care. I didn’t even want to live anymore. I struggled with insomnia and nightmares. I woke up exhausted and my body ached.

Arabella called me about her delusion that an old friend of ours sexually assaulted her. She asked me what I thought of it. I asked her if it was possible she was delusional to think our friend raped her while she was sleeping as a child. She said what I was saying was correct, he didn’t rape her as a child but as an infant. She said she was planning on finding and visiting him when she gets out of jail. My stomach dropped. We have to find him before she does. He is in danger.

Meanwhile, my mom cancelled my dad’s surgery. I don’t think she wanted to take care of him after the surgery because she had plans for an extended weekend away to celebrate her sister’s birthday. She asked if I would take care of him. I told her I was busy. I had to work Friday and Saturday then had plans on Sunday to watch Angel complete her first half-marathon. Afterwards, Paul was going to show me how to do some paperwork for our business and we had some things we needed to do around the house because come Monday he was scheduled to work 9 days straight. It’s the busy season for our business.

My mom left anyway. On Saturday my mom asked if I could take care of my dad. She said he wasn’t able to carry food with his walker. I replied if dad needed me to help him give me a call and I would try to figure something out. I felt a tremendous amount of guilt. That is when the tremors started in my arms. My mom never responded to my text but decided to come home early. She posted a picture of herself at home that evening on her BeReal looking disappointed.

The next morning I started having tremors in my hands, face, and legs. I was having a hard time walking. I hadn’t been feeling well and had a doctor’s appointment scheduled for later that afternoon. My son insisted on taking me after he saw my tremors. At the doctor’s appointment I was tremoring pretty badly. The doctor couldn’t figure out what was wrong. She ordered a MRI and took 15 vials of blood. I didn’t bother trying to hide how stressed and depressed I was. I was always mistrustful of telling the doctor about the severity of my anxiety and depression and that I have PTSD. I was afraid I would be committed and medicated. But I no longer fear that because with my daughter I realized how much of a joke the mental health care system is. I did relent to being put on anti-depressants though.

The tremors turned into seizures where I was fully conscious. I started to think something was seriously wrong with me like MS. I had other symptoms too. My eyes hurt. They were blurry, puffy, and very sensitive to light. At times I had double vision. I stopped eating. Food stopped tasting good. I felt nauseous and my stomach was upset. I only ate a few bites once a day after being forced by my family. I couldn’t even be tempted by my favorite foods. I was still experiencing insomnia. I felt numbness and tingling in my arms similar to the feeling right before a blood pressure cuff is released. My body ached. I couldn’t focus on anything and the exhaustion was overwhelming. I struggled at times to think and speak. I thought my life was over.

My dad was in and out of the ER. One day my mom posted a picture of him on BeReal in the hospital in a gown on a gurney with a nurse taking care of him. I don’t know how I felt about my dad and the possibility of him dying. I can’t even remember the last time I saw him.

Thursday night Arabella called and said grandma was going to bail her out of jail if it was okay with me. We got into an argument. I felt angry with my mom thinking she threw me under the bus. I told Arabella she can’t get out because if she messed up again with the felonies against her it would mean prison. But she didn’t listen. Then I talked to my mom. My anger turned to worry. She was worried about my dad. She was worried because she thought my brother Luke was angry with her. She dumped her problems on me and I felt stressed.

By Friday morning of Memorial Day weekend my seizures got worse. I could barely walk. My mom texted me my dad was back in the ER. Then as Paul was checking on me from work, I had a huge convulsion where I fell to the floor. I hit my head on the refrigerator. Paul could hear me flopping on the floor. He called our son to come over and check on me. Alex found me convulsing on the floor. It wouldn’t stop and I had no control over it. Alex called 911 and told them to please hurry. He talked calmly to me, patted my arm, and told me I was going to be okay.

I could hear the sirens getting closer. The next thing I know there are a whole bunch of people in my house. They gave me a shot of Benadryl, but the seizures still didn’t stop. They strapped me in a chair and put me into a gurney then got me into the ambulance. They gave me another shot, this one was painful and the seizures stopped. They tried to put an IV into my arms but they both collapsed. They were talking about my veins out loud and I thought I was going to throw up. They finally got an IV in my hand. I felt tired and dizzy as I watched the traffic behind us as the ambulance took me to the hospital without the sirens on. I watched for my son’s car but couldn’t see him.

The next thing I know I was in an ER room. A few minutes later Alex and Lexi showed up with Angel and Dan. I could tell my kids were frightened and crying. Paul left work early and was on the way. My best friend works in the hospital and soon she was on her way too. They set me up to get a MRI right away, but the seizures started up again. This time they put me on a strong anti-anxiety medicine. Paul arrived right before they wheeled me into the MRI. I was in and out of dreams. I heard loud noises. My family went to the cafeteria and waited. They thought it would take a half an hour and it took two hours. They thought maybe I would die. At the end I was awake. I felt a lot of pain in the back of my head. I was becoming restless.

The doctor came in after everything was done. He said he was puzzled by my condition. The MRI turned out fine. I didn’t have a brain tumor and it didn’t show up anything concerning. They told me to contact neurology after the holiday weekend and sent me home. The seizures continued. I imagined my life in a wheelchair. I wanted to die. I didn’t want to be a burden for my family.

My daughter cancelled her plans for the weekend including going out of town for a friend’s wedding. She worked out of my house. She did the cooking and cleaned my house. She wouldn’t let me be alone for one second. She didn’t let me walk alone. My son helped out with appointments and wouldn’t let me leave his side while he was with me either. My kids really stepped up. Even their friends offered to help. Arabella didn’t know anything about it. Even my dad called several times to check on me which was puzzling because of our relationship. In those ways, it brought us all closer.

For the first few days everyone was amazing. They treated me like I was on my deathbed, all hugs and love you’s. Everyone thought I could die. Then they became desperate. My husband was sobbing because he felt helpless and didn’t understand why I was suffering the way I was. He never cries. He became a Google doctor. He thought maybe this was a side effect of my sleeping pills. He wanted me to stop taking them. So did my son. His girlfriend and Angel thought it was dangerous to just stop taking my meds. They were discussing me like I wasn’t even there. No one knew what to do.

Meanwhile, my mom went up north for the holiday weekend and left my dad home alone. My dad ended up falling in the middle of the night and calling the rescue squad. My sister-in-law Carla got into a fight with my mom up north. She screamed at my mom out in the yard, regardless of the neighbors around, for cancelling my dad’s surgery and not taking good care of him. She totally lost her shit and my brother Mark had to leave with her.

Arabella yelled at Paul saying he turned grandma against her. She said someone in jail might pay her bond if she does special favors for them when she gets out. My daughter could be showing up on our doorstep at any time. Without talking to me Paul asked my parents if they would take her in if she shows up. My dad went to the ER again. My mom told us my dad wants to die. Paul said to her well join the club. I thought my husband was going to have a heart attack he was so stressed.

I kept having seizures. Sometimes I felt like I wanted to die. At other times I felt a great amount of fear like I was going to be attacked. Any small thing could set me off.

They told me to get an appointment with the neurologist after the holiday weekend. The earliest they could get me in was the middle of July. They told me to call everyday to see if there were any cancellations. I was able to get in the end of the week. My husband raced me there like I was going to the ER. He was incredibly stressed and almost got into a couple accidents on the way. As I was sitting in the full waiting room I started having convulsions again. I started crying saying I didn’t want to do this anymore. They took me in to do an EEG right away. They also took 8 more vials of blood.

Although I didn’t get all the test results back yet, the nurse said she couldn’t find anything wrong with me. She basically told me in a polite way that it was all in my head. She didn’t think it was ALS or MS, she thought it was from stress. My husband was overjoyed exclaiming it was wonderful news. I was pissed. I felt like something was wrong with me. I felt like I didn’t have any answers. If it’s all in my head why would my body do this to me? I can handle a lot of stress. I felt embarrassment and hatred towards myself. I just wanted to crawl in a corner and die. My husband asked why I wasn’t happy with the news. Did I want to die? I told him spending the rest of my life with a serious illness is not how I wanted to die. I just couldn’t believe my body would betray me like this. How could I trust myself? I had to cancel my motorcycle class. I’m not even allowed to drive right now.

After the appointment, I started to feel better. I’m not going to die. I started to eat again. Every day I’ve been having some small tremors but nothing major. It was a very traumatic experience for my family and I. Through it we learned some important lessons. I really matter to my husband and two oldest kids. They will be there for me if I need them. It was a wake up call to find a way to de-stress. In some ways it was a positive experience.

I really hope nothing like this ever happens to me again. I just wanted to explain what happened and why I was gone.

change the system

/ Outrunning my demons / 4 Comments

My daughter is going back to jail today. Trying to get her treatment was a big waste of time. They did change up her medicine a bit. They gave her something to calm her, help her sleep, and for PTSD. I want to know what gave her the diagnosis of PTSD. What trauma??

I called and called the treatment center. Sometimes no one answered the call. One time the nurse said I needed to talk to the therapist. I left several messages with the therapist. The only time she called me back was to tell me my daughter was being released. Apparently she is the only therapist for the whole ward. I asked to speak to a doctor but was told they were too busy because this was their third job. They barely had 5 minutes to talk to patients. From that 5 minutes, they allegedly gathered more information than the patients family who spent a lifetime with them.

Yesterday I finally found a nurse who was willing to listen. I told her my daughter was having delusions. The nurse said Arabella did not report having delusions. I told the nurse my daughter is not aware she is delusional. I told her my daughter is in jail for felonies relating to having delusions. I told her my daughter is suicidal because she made comments of life not being worth living once she is released. I told her I am afraid Arabella will kill herself or hurt someone else from the delusions she is having. I was feeling very hopeful after our conversation.

Then the case manager called and dashed every hope I had. I had plans yesterday afternoon which I was late to because of having to take her call. She said the likelihood of Arabella getting into a group home is virtually impossible. Even if I sell my soul and offer up my firstborn. She said I should look into a residential treatment facility. We decided we are not going to pay for that again. She gave me other numbers to call but said they probably wouldn’t talk to me because my daughter is an adult. She said my daughter will be released tomorrow. They think she is just trying to stay to get out of jail.

I am absolutely livid. The mental health system in the US is one big fucking joke. No wonder why there is so much violence. If only we had a system focused on suicide/homicide prevention and the treatment of mental illness!! My hands are tied. I’ve done everything I could do and it wasn’t enough. I’ll just watch as my daughter hurts herself or someone else.

I have lost all hope and faith in the system. I don’t have a lot of faith or hope left in anything. It takes a lot of courage to continue when everything I do seems pointless.

I just got home from taking my daughter back to jail. It’s very upsetting that she did not get the treatment she needs. Arabella said the therapist only talked to her for 5 minutes and only to ask her why she was in jail. The facility is very understaffed. Even Arabella felt she did not get the treatment she needed. She wanted help as much as we wanted help for her. On the way back to jail, I stopped at the gas station to get her pizza and soda. She won’t be home for Mother’s Day. They will be putting her back into isolation for the next 10 days. She will be spending her 20th birthday in jail in a cell by herself for 23 hours of the day. Something must be done to fix the broken mental health system. Stop the senseless loss of life. I am so pissed and motivated to fight the system and advocate for mental health reform. I had no idea how bad things are. But now that I know, something must be done.