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.