Monday, November 23, 2015
A Horrible Day
During our time dealing with the mental illness that ravages my daughter, I have talked a little about my own depression, but I haven't talked about the issues of parenting. Even with a body that hurts almost constantly, I would rather go back to BASIC training and be yelled at by drill sergeants then have the job I have right now. I have been yelled at, called a bitch and told what a terrible mother I am. I have had to compromise my morals, my belief in discipline, and eat a lot of pride. Today, I am losing the battle.
The last two months have been trying to say the least. I probably mentioned that the doctor switched Madelle's meds, spiraling her down into the dark pit of anxiety. We are now upping her meds to bring her back up to before the switch. It is a very slow process. And today is a very bad day that started last night.
Madelle came out of her room and asked not to go to school this week. It is a short week of only two days due to Thanksgiving vacation. Well, she is getting a five day weekend and I didn't think it was appropriate. The mom and former educated does not approve of skipping school. I said no and her dad backed me. She went to her room. When he went in to ask what pasta she wanted with the spaghetti sauce, she grunted. Later I went in to have her take her medicine, she refused. I prayed and listened to music with her. I talked.
What I got out of her is that she doesn't know how to make us hear her. She can't face school. The days will be filled with busy work and talking. She panics on those days. I don't want her home doing nothing, so I told her that she would have to do work. She has reneged on her part of the bargain of only missing one day a week. Her schedule was to say a prayer for strength, write an essay, do some fractions, read some literature, work on cell research, play her instrument, and walk the dog.
The reality … I am ready to run away to the coast and live there under an assumed name. I am a prisoner in my own home. Madelle woke up in a good mood. She ate breakfast and said her prayers. She took out her instrument and sounded off. The next thing I know she is whining. I ask her questions and she started yelling. She went to her room and I asked for her kindle. I had told her no electricity for the day. She came back and threw it on the floor and stomped back into her room again.
A short time later she comes into my writing room asking if she is a bad kid. Part of me wants to scream that yes, yes she is a horrid kid. Instead I cry and say she isn't. She said she didn't think doing school work at home is the answer. I don't have to fear homeschooling. But I still don't know how to get her to school. She asked for her kindle back. Nope. For some reason I will stay strong on this point. I am also not giving her my computer. She is in the living room watching cartoons and putting together a puzzle. Another loss. I sit here at the computer with tears in my eyes. Oh, and I haven't the courage to see if I pushed her to start scratching herself again.
I know people judge the situation. Hell, I judge the situation. "She is spoilt. I am not tough enough on her. I should force her to go to school so she will toughen up. Live through those panic attacks. Ignore the voices in her head that tell her she is a freak." Well, people, be my guest. You can take over the parenting because we are doing the best we can. All I want is for her to be a well adjust happy kid with lots of friends and activities, tons of self confidence.
I read books to try to help me through. The common theme is to take care of you. Right, how? Sure, I am fortunate. I am able to tell myself most days that life is good. I smile and push forward with my writing. I spend time with my prayer group. I go to church. But on days like today, I feel horrible.