I just looked back at my past posts and realized they ramble. That’s ok. These aren’t planned. They’re not proof-read. They’re just me spewing feelings out. Like right now, my feelings are jumbled, and I’m just rambling. Maybe I’m avoiding saying things that need to be said. Maybe I don’t know what I’m feeling. Maybe, just maybe, saying what I’m thinking isn’t possible yet.
Today seemed like any other. I got up, I had coffee, I ran the vacuum cleaner over the carpet. Then I realized I have not heard one word of update on my kid’s progress since the day after he was admitted to the “crisis facility”. One thing everything I’ve read stresses is this is HIS recovery. HE has to guide it. But, I am mom. I have loved this kid for over 29 years. I have cared for him for most of that time, either completely, or as I pushed him into independence. I WANT him to be independent, but I also will do everything I can to assure he’s safe. I’ve been relying on his own progress reports, but I also know he’s lying to me about some things; namely how he’s feeling. I see people leaving that were admitted after he was. I don’t know their story, it’s THEIR story, but I know beyond a shadow of doubt that my kid is not ready to go, despite what he’s trying to convince others. So this morning I called and left a message for his therapist to call me back. Of course, he called during visiting hours. Honestly that ticked me off. I have been there every day for early visiting. EVERY SINGLE DAY. Did he call then so he could avoid talking to me? Or are they seriously that clueless? Anyway, the message left was that kid was progressing slowly, and they were hoping for a Friday discharge. WAIT. Friday? Home? Alone?
NO. NO> NO> NO>.
One thing that they say is to give your child space. I gave my child space, he almost died. Am I supposed to just let him go back to his life like nothing happened? No real therapy. Just some meds which he’s already complaining make it hard for him to concentrate. For an above average intelligence kid (he tested over 140 as a child) not being able to think is the worst kind of torture.
Do I become “that mom” and call and talk to his psychologist? How much can she know talking to him TEN minutes a day? She’s seen him six days at 10ish minutes, that’s one hour. One hour out of the roughly 260,000 hours he’s been alive.
I hate this. I hate second guessing everything. I hate the idea that my child attempted suicide. I hate the idea that to them he’s just another patient, one of roughly 40 on any given day, with a waiting list to keep the beds full.
I hate the knowledge that my child went out of his way to research signs to look for just to make sure I didn’t see any signs. If he went that far with me, do they not realize he will say or do whatever he has to in order to get out? I hate that in their eyes parents are almost always the cause of strife, and so should not be trusted…