#30 Hope?

Some good news for a change - David got his SSI - and the same week he got a chance to fly to Florida with his uncle. The day of their flight I was paralyzed with fear - not of tragedy, but of hope. Isn't it funny how in life we can become acclimated to almost anything - I was accustomed to bad news, to trouble, to struggle - my mind could not wrap itself around the fact that something good was happening - and so my mind made up its own bad news - I was certain that this was some cruel twist in fate - tempting us into some ultimate disaster - the jet would crash - the jet would be hijacked - David would lose control from paranoia and be shot dead by the marshals like that man with bipolar disorder in the news a couple of months back. I tried, but I just could not make myself just be grateful for my son's good fortune - it was pouring that night and as I sat at my desk grading listening to the pounding rain - I thought back to how this had started after David's first attempt and how it rained for days - I couldn't help but think that if this was literature it would end the same - the rain - the floods - the phone call that the plane had went down. I had to shake myself and find something to distract me - I called my cousin to tell her the good news - but I just couldn't help but mention that it felt scary to have things go right. Then my husband called out from the mudroom in the back of the house - we have been patching our old roof for a couple of years and it wasn't unusual for a new leak to spring up, but this one was massive - a steady stream ran from the ceiling and the sheetrock had begun to bow - just as my husband turned to grab a bucket, a four foot wide section of the ceiling came crashing down - I laughed - perhaps an inappropriate reaction - but now I felt sure that the plane would land smoothly (which it did) - things had been going too well - but the hole in the ceiling begged normalcy - at least in our lives - the rain pouring into my house yelled hope!

#29 The Regrets

I am being hounded by entities from Hell. Not the terrible trio called the Furies, but rather a group I have named, the Regrets. They come upon me at times such as these when I am contemplating mistakes I have made in the week – in this case forgetting my mother’s birthday until she mentioned it, realizing that my composition class hasn’t understood half of my forty minute lecture, evidenced by their uncomprehending, blank stares, and noting that David has become somewhat manic and has been awake for thirty six hours straight. It is now that the Regrets arrive, well dressed, with perfect hair and nails, as always beaming happiness – the perfect daughter, who never forgets her mother’s birthday and always has enough money to buy her a memorable gift; the perfect instructor, always organized, witty, and easily understood; the perfect mother, watching as her son stands to the podium as valedictorian at his high school graduation. All the women I thought I might be, that I thought I could be. They torture me with their excellence in stark contrast to my reality. But wait, slightly behind and to the side stands one that one that cannot be one of the regrets. She is unkempt; her hair needs a cut and has been pushed back awkwardly – her clothes don’t quite match, are rumpled, and has cat hair and chalk dust on them. In her eyes there is not happiness, but neither is there despair. Instead there is a passion, a determination that vibrates through her being – she is far from perfect, but she has a weapon, a glittering pen that she uses to disperse the smiling regrets – as the being gets closer I realize – She is Me!

#28 Murky Depths

Sorry to everyone that it has been so long since I posted - I have had a mental block of sorts and have been fighting my own battle with a bit of depression (my doc has given me 40mg of prozac a day) it is helping - I guess I needed a while to focus on my own needs - I have been very low - just swimming around the depths - no energy to struggle to the storm tossed surface - but enough is enough - I know if I am to survive - if David is to survive I must pull myself up - so I think for a while I'm going to try to use this blog as a type of therapy - I'll try to journal as much as possible and continue to share our story - I might just whine a bit more - I have not shared with my readers another problem that I have - perhaps it is time - I have been struggling with my own illness for the last few years - the doctors have diagnosed me with possible MS - and surprise - surprise, stress is really bad for my symptoms - so this last month or so has been tough, not only mentally, but also physically - but I like to remember that God will not give you anything you are not strong enough to handle - he must feel I'm pretty strong - so I plan to live up to his expectations - out of the murky depth into the wind tossed storm

#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.

Lost at Sea

A Note about how to use site

Most of my posts, the ones that are numbered, are a continuation of the story of our struggle to come to terms with my son's attempted suicide and diagnosis of mental illness. I would suggest starting at #1 to get the whole picture and to understand the frequent allusions to the metaphor of being lost at sea. I have also added a new page that can be accessed from the link on the right. It deals with resources that may be of interest and relevant to mental illness.

Renewal

As you have no doubt noticed I have not been very diligent in posting lately - I pledge I will do better - but I have decided to try a new format - from this post on I am going to discuss current issues that my family and I are facing - going back to problems that happened month's ago seems to be cycling through feelings that are counterproductive to healing - so from here we look forward, not back - I do however want to bring everyone up to date - so here is a quick summary - David is much better - at the moment - he had a really bad spell in the summer when I feared I was going to lose him to bad influences, but he has - for the most part come around - though we go day by day and he certainly isn't back to any real "normalcy" - he still is taking lithium, seroquel, zoloft, inderal for tremor's and lately has been given a low dose of xanax to take only when he is going into stressful social situations - he is finishing up his senior year online and thus is home most of the time - more on that later -

#25 Adapting

The only way to survive in this crazy world of ours in by adapting - I'm reminded of this - strangely by a pumpkin lying in our mud room. You see I bought three pumpkins for the kids to carve a week before Halloween. It had been a couple of years since the kids were really interested in carving Jack-O-Lanterns, but I thought we needed some reminders of tradition this year, so I bought David, Elizabeth, and Joseph each one. Elizabeth and her boyfriend jumped right in; he had only carved one once in his life so he was thrilled. Joseph was a bit more relunctant, but finished his in time. But David, as with so many things, said he would get to it later, and now its too late. The pumpkin lies neglected, its potential unused. I feel that way about David in a manner; he is full of unused potential. I think of other parents whose children have become unrealized harvest. Because of drug use or illness their children have never lived up to their purpose. We, as parents plant carefully, water, and tend, expecting a bounteous harvest in the end; how sad to see a harvest left out in the field unused. But perhaps I'm looking at this wrong. At least I still have my harvest, and God's plan for a bounteous harvest may not be the same as mine. I may not stand next May to applaud my valedictorian, but I have a breathing, living son, who just came in the house carrying the cat, because he said he looked cold - I tell myself to not let bitterness wither the vine: adapt to God's plan, let go of mine - I look back to the pumpkin - pumpkin pie anyone?

#24 All The King's Horses

Have you ever noticed that the dreams we hold on to the hardest and longest are the ones we hold for others - but they often are not solid dreams, but rather ethereal clouds of illusion, built on our own vanities - so it is with illusions that I have held about my daughter Elizabeth, only two years younger than David, she has suffered, perhaps the most of all his siblings.  It was on her birthday that he chose to try to end his existence - and in doing so greatly altered hers -A year ago Elizabeth was the typical Freshman - bubbly, enthusiastic - she was chosen Freshman attendant for Football and enjoyed her moment in the spotlight - she had many friends, was on the swim team and the yearbook staff.  - Then Jan 4th arrived and on her 15th birthday I made a cake - we sang Happy Birthday -  David sang it in Spanish - then (as we found out later) he went down to his room to write a suicide note, telling all his family how much he loved us.  --- Who, at 15, so close to her brother, could have come out unscathed - I had Elizabeth to a councilor for awhile but she seemed so much better - she stopped going - over the summer she appeared fine - but older - not the bubbly, carefree girl we had known - her sophomore year has brought her change to the forefront - she can't relate to her peers any more- their happy teenage chatter is making her anxious - she feels so different from then to now - she has started having nightmares and migraines - she has begged me to let her either take high school online like her brother does or take all post secondary at the local college - For the longest time I refused stubbornly until day by day I saw her misery at being somewhere she no longer felt she belonged - I realized it wasn't for her dreams that I wanted her to stay in the normal high school pattern but for my own illusions - and so I have relented and agreed to check on alternatives - like so much in my life I will have to learn to live with change - All the king's horses and all the king's men couldn't put Humpty together again and neither can I glue back the pieces of our family back the way they were -    

#23 Broken

I did not answer - I didn't know how - I felt as if I broke inside. The sea was dark - the depth bottomless and I was going down. Why fight? Why tread in a world where a merciless God would do this? - take a wonderful, smart, handsome boy, full of potential and toss him into a world of madness - and worse - if God wasn't merciless then there was no God - and if...and if...what was the purpose? I sat there in my kitchen beside my son and sobbed - he had looked to me for answers - for hope - I had none to give. But then a miracle occured - perhaps there was a loving God after all - an angel walked in the door - of course it was a very familiar face - but an angel to us at that moment all the same. What I couldn't give to David my mom gave to us both - assurance and comfort - a plan. I called the psychiatrist - he talked to David and he agreed to try another antipsychotic, Seroquel and begin lithium. My mom talked calmly and soothingly to David and after awhile the madness receded - it was still in the edges of his gaze - but my son was trying to fight his way back to the surface - I couldn't do any less than follow...To be cont.

#22 Two Steps Back

The same day that David had popped into the bedroom at four a.m., we had to go to our family doctor for a check up on the liver levels - it was there that I began to understand that something was going terribly wrong - first in the waiting room David kept knocking th book I was perusing off my lap - the first time I tried to pass it off as a joke and laughed weakly - but by the third and fourth time I was concened - he was acting like a two year old, but he was a six foot teenager who had an alarming look in his eyes - his mouth was curling up in the corner and although I couldn't say my son was actually scaring me - panic was rising - what was I going to do if he completely lost control in this crowded doctor's office? We did mange to get through the visit without any crisis however - but on the way home I could hardly recognize the boy sitting next to me - I could hardly believe was my son - he rambled on about how he had decided to quit school altogether - that this was who he was meant to be - he wasn't going to take any more medicine and if he ended up on the streets so be it - I don't need to add that by now I was beside myself - despite my best effort I began to cry - but this didn't stop his tirade - David was becoming more and more agitated and wild by the minute - a deluge of flooded water pouring through a crack in the dam - I had no idea how to staunch it - then at home his demeaner changed again - he began to weep in this most hopeless manner like someone with a broken heart - I tried to comfort him " You'll feel better once you get on a new mood stabilizer" - I'll never forget the look he gave me then - "But I need the antipsychotic" - he wouldn't tell me why but his look went through me like a jagged knife - his eyes held madness and a haunted despair - he put his head down again and began to sob "what am I supposed to do? Help me." To be cont.

#21 One Step Forward ...

The first few days of cutting back the medicine went fine. In fact David seemed to be doing great. Full of energy he started getting back some of that curiosity and interest in things that he had been so long without. But slowly the energy turned to mania and then to severe mania - he stayed up for three days straight - one morning he burst in at four o'clock in the morning asking me if I could come up with some new lessons for him to do the next day. He had been up all night reading - something he had seemed to have no desire to do since his suicide attempt. The next day he feverishly, with words spilling out in a rush that he had stopped taking the risperdal - he had only pretended to take it the last few times - I, of course, was concerned, but I guess I was so wishful that all this had been a dream - that I foolishly let him convince me that he didn't need the Risperdal at all - he felt like himself again and was so happy to enjoy reading again - and this I understood more than anything - an avid reader I couldn't imagine what it would be like to have that taken away from me. I realized of course that my son was manic - but I thought that once he had been tapered off the Depakote and put on something else that perhaps his mania would recede and that he didn't need an antipsychotic after all. But like a mirage of a nearby island on that storm tossed sea - I was just setting myself up for great disappointment - for the island was actually a circling shark waiting for the right moment to strike ....

20# Setback

It was a couple of weeks after the trip to the high school - the Depakote had begun to help David's mood swings and he was struggling to catch up on his school work - it just didn't seem to be coming as easy as it always had in the past and his anxiety was still apparent - he would rather work on his own rather than have to walk into the school to be tutored by his teacher's, even in after school hours. The principal suggested that the teachers would be happy to come to the house once a week, but David was nervous about this as well - I believe he was embarrassed that he had not been able to keep up with the class. But since the mood swings had begun to diminish I had hope that with time he would begin to become less anxious. However, stability was not yet meant to be - when we went back to the psychiatrist he went over the blood work that he had ordered the week before - he was very concerned - Depakote can on rare occasions harm the liver and David's liver levels, instead of being in the double digits were in the hundreds. The psychiatrist ordered him to immediately begin to taper off the Depakote and to cut back on the Risperdal and the Zoloft - he ordered another test for a few days after the last dose of Depakote and a return appointment - I drove home sick at my stomach - David tried to act like he wasn't worried, but glancing over to find that he was gnawing on his fingernails, I knew he was - I felt like crying just looking at him - he must be wandering "what next" and I worried not only for the health of his liver - but also the health of his mind - how far would this set him back - would the mood swings return - the depression - the voices? It seemed that he had finally begun the long climb back and now we were crashing back down the mountain. As I was to find out soon I had good reason to worry. To be Cont.

19# The Wheel of Fortune

First sorry it has been so long - I have been very busy with the kids all being home for summer - and now on with the story - Probably most of you have learned at some time about the definition of a tragic hero - yes, the kind that populate Shakespeare's tragedies - well one of the most basic characteristics of a tragic hero is a fall from high - in other words a tragic hero must have at some time been on top - whether in social standing, finances, or luck and then tragically the wheel of fate must turn and bring them to the bottom - unfortunately for those of us that have lived through real life tragedies the idea of having it all and then losing it all is not just fictional. In our case the reality of this hit me one day as I sat in the high school guidance councilor's office filling out an IEP for my son so he could continue on home instruction - it had been a couple of weeks since I had decided that David needed some time away from the pressure of high school - since then he had been having some wild mood swings and his psychiatrist had prescribed Depakote to be added to the Zoloft and Risperdal - as I sat there with the principal and the school councilor looking over the papers I had to fill out - I found that I couldn't read the words - despite my best attempt tears were welling up and blurring my sight - somehow this put an official seal on my son's fall - not that I'm saying there's anything shameful with filling out an IEP - but it seemed unimaginable that the boy who had always been the star pupil, who had never gotten in trouble till this year, who had been in the gifted program was now being labeled as handicapped by mental illness - once the tears began - they wouldn't stop - soon I was sobbing - the well meaning principal brought in a box of tissues and I fought to get myself together - all I wanted was to get through this and get home - rising to leave I thanked them and grabbed one more tissue - but fate was not through with me yet - the principal held out an envelope - "Um - I don't know if you will want to share this with David - but - it was my duty to give it to you" - there in that envelope was the dream that David had talked about for so long - an invitation to the National Honor Society - I never have given him that letter - it seemed too cruel - one more reminder of what might have been - of what should have been. To be Cont.

Cognitive Therapy and Bipolar Disorder - News #1

I have decided to begin noting news items that I find helpful or interesting – so this is the first. Researchers in Britain, from the institute of Psychiatry in London have completed a study, which shows that patients with bipolar disorder who are given cognitive therapy added to mood stabilizing drugs, are less likely to have relapses. The study also looked at how the combination therapy was more cost effective, by cutting down on the expense that relapses incurred. The full study was published in the British Journal of Psychiatry
http://bjp.rcpsych.org/cgi/content/abstract/186/6/500

18# Pulling Away From the World

That night I asked David how his day at school had went and he told me it was OK. But as the evening preceded he began to share some concerns - he worried that he wouldn't be able to catch up and he didn't understand some of the things that were being discussed since he had missed so many days - I assured him that it would be easy for him to get caught up - but a nagging doubt begin to gnaw at me - David was a genius - he had never had any trouble understanding anything at school and had been able to pick up on complex concepts by just perusing the text - what could be wrong? What if the overdose had caused some brain damage? Maybe it was the medicine that was affecting his concentration? What I didn't know then that I have since learned is that some forms of mental illness can affect the way ideas are organized in the brain and thus can make learning difficult - then I only knew that my son was very worried and considering his past suicide attempt this was unsettling - the next day we went to the councilor for the first time - I was very pleased with him and David appeared to like him - in session David opened up a bit more about school and admitted that it wasn't just the work that had him concerned - he was extremely anxious while there and again felt like everyone was staring at him - he said he didn't want to go back - I thought that this would be a mistake - you know the old saying about getting back up on the horse - but to my surprise the councilor agreed with him - he thought that it would be a mistake to force him to be in a stressful, anxious situation so soon after his attempt - alone he told me that sometimes it took six months to a year to get back to normal life - another reminder of how our life had changed! I agreed to call the school and see if they could set up home instruction for David, at least for a couple of months. To Be Cont.

17# Snow Storm

The first day David went back to school snow was threatening – gray clouds hung low and heavy as I drove the kids to school. The weather fit my mood of foreboding – all day I worried about my son – how would he answer all the questions – the principal had sent out the story that he had a bad flu and had spent some time in the hospital. I worried that he wouldn’t be able to handle the stress, the stares, the whispers. But when I went to pick them up after school all my fears seemed to be allied. David was smiling and asked if he could run to his friend’s house for a sec and then his friend would bring him home – glancing at the still gray sky and the first few snowflakes – I reluctantly agreed – I didn’t want to seem overprotective and thus embarrass him – OK – but be careful and hurry it looks like its finally going to snow. By the time the rest of us reached home the flurries had turned into a snow squall and the police scanner (my husband’s nosy hobby) was calling for ambulances, rescue, and cops in every direction. We had just missed several wrecks on our road – I immediately started to panic – why did I let him go? I called his friend’s house – they had already left – after I had paced for a good half an hour my daughters suggested that we drive as far as we could and then try to walk up to the wrecks since they had shut down the road – and so we did - we had to walk a good half mile in the wind and snow to get to the first crash and of course – they had just towed off the car and opened the road – it wasn’t my son’s friend – they had just been stuck in traffic - trudging back to the car my fifteen year old daughter said “you wouldn’t have done this for any of us – you would have trusted that we were all right and would get home as soon as we could” I didn’t answer because I knew she was right – I didn’t know how to explain or for that matter stop the emotions that were simmering inside waiting at any minute to come spilling out – primal motherhood – an overwhelming sense of needing to protect my son and a terrible fear that in the end I would be unable to – To be cont.

16# Sleepless in Ohio

First off sorry about the long time since the last post - I took a well needed break - now back to the story - that first evening home David was ecstatic - he was so happy to be back in his room with his games and his i-pod - and with us. I was proud of the other kids in that they greeted him as if he had just been on any extended trip - I wish I could say the same - it was as if I had just brought him home as an infant - I couldn't sleep - I kept creeping downstairs to check on him hoping that he wouldn't catch me being an extremely over protective mom - but each time I lay down to sleep, the night that I found him kept playing over and over and then up I crept again. I was exhausted the next day but joyous that I had my son home - and with everyone else up I could relax - and so it went on for days - as soon as I would drift off to sleep I would have nightmares all involving David - always I was deperately trying to save him from some unknown enemy. This insomnia has slowly eleviated - almost six months later I sleep much sounder, but if David has had a bad day or we've had some upset (more on these matters later) again I find myself creeping down those stairs -

15# Home Again, Home Again

Jiggidy, Jig - when the kids were little I always repeated that last line of the nursery rhyme when we pulled into the driveway - It was Wednesday when David came home exactly a week since he had been admitted - it seemed much longer. My mom and I drove up that evening to get him and found him happy, but nervous waiting with all his things in a trash bag and a handful of projects that he had completed in Art therapy - He had one braided and beaded necklace that one of the girls had given to him. The girl walked over shyly to say goodbye - beautiful girl rail thin - anerexia I thought to myself. And then we were on our way home - Mom asked if he wanted to stop and go in to to eat - he declined - so nervous - he talked on and on about the medicine and the ward - none of us knew how to act - I could never have imagined that I would ever feel so uncomfortable with my own son. He was very upset that they had not given him any medicine for evening - "I have to have it Mom; they said that even one dose missed could be bad." Hearing the panic rising Mom, as usually was the calming force - "Don't worry we'll find a pharmacy open - and we did find it - when we parked David said he had to get some air for a minute - as he paced around the parking lot - I felt like crying - "Who was this person I was taking home?" How was I supposed to react - what was I supposed to say - what behavior was normal for him now? Nothing in my past had prepared me for this - I looked over and Mom seemed at ease - just as if her grandson, once brilliant and self possessed was now pacing around outside agitated and different, oh so different. Well, I thought if she can remain calm so can I - I tried to focus on the positive - at least he was here - at least he was outside pacing - we hadn't lost him - that did help - by the time he got back in and he took his medicine, rispardal, I was feeling much calmer - when we pulled into the driveway that old line spontaneously came out "home again, home again." David smiled ear to ear. "Oh, I've missed it so much." to be cont.