#27 Shipwrecked Again

On Christmas Eve morning David once again tried to take his own life - swallowing a weeks worth of medicine and ending up in ICU because to the lithium toxicity - my thoughts are hard to express - so I'll just share this poem I wrote yesterday -
Son, son, slipping
Water dark and chilled
Penetrating my skin and soul
Hold on - Hold on

Drowning we both in a sea of doubt
Life, so hard - the ocean so wide
Tread with me me son
Catch the last remnant of the ship we call life

Far the darkness reaches
Over vast distances and
Unknown lands
Hold onto my hand -

Son - we are afloat still
Now in blazing hot sun
Sharks circling round
Clasp upon me

#26 Season of Despair

The holiday season is upon us, supposedly filled with merriness and warmth, twinkling lights, good food, children's laughter. But I have seen my son, as the season of mirth approaches, instead slipping into an inner despair. His sleeping pattern is complete chaos - he will sleep for 18 out of 24 hours, then stay up for 36 - he has worn the same jeans since Thanksgiving, and the same shirt for the last four days. He has taken showers, but puts back on the same clothes. His attitude has also become increasingly negative - for example, when he saw the freshly trimmed tree, he said, "I hate Christmas - I mean Christmas trees." His only soft spot right now is for our two cats that we recently adopted from the shelter, a kitten named Jewel and an older cat the kids named Frank after Frank Sinatra. I've been trying to make sure he is taking all his medicine, but with his erratic schedule, it is difficult. What worries me the most is that all this seems so familiar. I think back to Christmas last year and in retrospect recognize signs that I didn't then and now see repeated. I know I must be vigilant for the coming month - statistics show that bipolar disease is many times seasonal and it appears that the holidays are David's season of despair. Even more frightening and always at the back of my mind is the statistic that one out of five who suffer from manic-depressive decease end up committing suicide. For now, though, all I can do is pray and try to wash his pants and shirt if and when he sleeps.