I thought this article should be re-posted. It still applies today.
https://www.nami.org/blogs/nami-blog/july-2015/dispelling-myths-on-mental-illness
At last some good news! Finally got my younger son on medication. Jury is still out whether it is going to work for him or not. Medication is a tricky thing. Since we are all individuals, and all different, it makes sense that not every medication works the same for every person. I personally feel like it’s a crap shoot.
There are some studies out there that say if one sibling takes medication that works for them, the likelihood of it working for a sibling is good.. We started my younger son off on same medication (different dose) as his older brother is on. Five days in and it seems to be working pretty well. I have already noticed a difference in his mood. He doesn’t seem to be nearly as paranoid. He is much less fidgety and able to actually look me in the eye. This is a huge deal. He has not been able to look anyone in the eye for months. I am so relieved to see that in a matter of days he is much better. He is also able to sleep through the night (which means we all can sleep) There is no more 2 a.m. banging of doors. Read all about that nightmare in my previous post: Here We Go Again.
What I have learned is this road is not for the faint of heart. You must be a warrior to care for the mentally ill. If you are not a warrior, and you have a loved one who suffers, you better start training now!
I think it’s time I start writing again. Most importantly to keep record of what’s happening in my house. The days get blurry and it’s hard to keep track of it all. I’m pretty much living in hell and wondering if it will ever get better. These days it’s easier for me to stay calm. I have been through so much of it before, that I tend to not freak out as much as I used too. I look back at some of the postings I wrote and am surprised to read it’s been going on for so long. One day runs into the next, and before you know it eight or more years has passed.
Today is another day. My older son has been doing well for a awhile. All except that one time pretty recently where he took the car and went missing for 8 hours. An endangered person report was filed and Highway Patrol eventually found him and took him to jail. He hasn’t had a license in about 8 years. Never been so happy to hear my son was in jail. Other then that he is compliant with his medication and doing well. As good as good gets in this house.
His brother who is a year younger, and obviously suffers from mental health issues as well, has been having a terrible time. He is very delusional and behaving erratic. By erratic I mean he is up all night every night He opens and closes doors all night long, about every two minutes. Then he slams the door shut. By doors I mean linen closet, hall closet, bedroom, bathroom, every single door in the house! Every 2 minutes! No one can sleep in the house. I cannot get mad at him because I know this is part of his paranoia or OCD or whatever is going on with him. It is extremely difficult. He did not sleep at all last night (no one did). He came in my room this morning and asked for keys to his car. No way can he drive right now. It is not safe for him or anyone else on the road. He threw a fit and told me that I would ‘Be cut in half’ and ‘murdered’ and ‘sawed in half’. I don’t take this as a threat. I believe its a delusion.
I have a doctors appointment on Monday for him that I have been waiting for three months to get. Its very difficult to get an adult help when they don’t want it. Or worse when their lame father who hasn’t a clue what’s happening, and hasn’t seen him in two years, tells him there is nothing wrong with him. I never used to call out his dad, but at this point I’m left with no choice. Kyle Gaillard your an idiot. My younger son has told me this morning if I don’t give him keys to his car he is going to throw out all his medication. And then he did. The medication he is on is not the correct medication for him. As described by the NP who gave it to him, it’s like putting a Band-Aid on something that needs surgery. That’s what the appointment on Monday was for, to get him the right meds.
Not sure what this Saturday morning is going to bring. It’s a lovely day outside. I so wish I could have some peace and enjoy the day. Most likely the fire department and crisis team, and ambulance will be here. Praying for the strength and courage to get through the day.
My son hasn’t been out of the house in two and a half months. Specifically, the last time he was outside was when he was discharged from the hospital back in May. If I’m going to be honest I can tell you that at first there was some relief in the fact that he didn’t want to leave the house. At least I knew he was safe. At least I didn’t worry about the police stopping him, or somebody messing with him, or him getting confused and lost. All things I worried about when he would simply go for a walk around the block.
At first I figured he just he just needed to rest from being inpatient for awhile. Stay at home, regroup, get back on his feet, be in safe environment. Two weeks went by. Then three. Even though I felt better, I know it wasn’t the best thing for him. Four weeks went by. I started to get concerned. I tried to encourage him to go out of the house without making a big deal about it. “Hey son, wanna ride to the coffee shop with me?” “Hey son, wanna run to Quick Trip real fast?” “Hey son, wanna go for a walk?” All the things I tried without making a big deal about it. He has declined everything.
I talked to his doctors, I talked to his case workers. Truthfully they are in much in the dark as I am. This is a new a thing. He’s never been afraid to leave the house before. Seems like every week is a new thing. This illness sucks.
After so many years of trying to manage his illness, because that’s what it is, managing, not curing. I continue to go to school. I realized a long time ago the docs with their medication, and case workers with their strategies, are as confused as I am. No one actually knows what will work. It’s all a crap shoot. Figure I might as well go be a therapist. At least I’ll get paid.
After months of encouraging, without pushing. Today he got in the car with me just to run to the mini-mart. I told him he didn’t have to get dressed, let him go in his boxers. Told him he didn’t have to get out of car. It’s a slow progress. He went! I tried not to cry all the way there. I tried not to cry all the home. I made a concerted effort to keep my mouth shut, and for those that know me that’s not easy. As tears streamed down my face, I drove to and back. I thanked God for the little miracles. He is not where he supposed to be, but he is not where he was yesterday.
If you or someone you know is suffering, please contact the National Suicide Prevention Line at 1-800-273-8255.
Another mass shooting against our children, family, friends, and loved ones. Are we supposed to be surprised? This time in Florida. Who’s next? California? Arizona? Texas? We as the United States of America should be outraged and appalled, yet I don’t even see this as my top headline on the news today. I guess we are all officially conditioned. Personally, it makes me sick.
The mental health care system in the United States is in serious need of reform. Until something is done about it, people will continue to die! I don’t know what the answer is, but I do know what the answer IS NOT! Buying our children bullet proof backpacks is not the answer. Gun control is not the answer. Criminals will still manage to get guns, and so will the mentally ill. Once they start obsessing about something, there is no stopping them, believe me! The ONLY way to help keep our children safe is to reform our mental health programs and make mental health treatment more accessible to EVERYONE. That’s just the bottom line. EVERYBODY should be able to walk into any ER, or up to any police officer, at any time and have access to a crisis line, and where to get help in their area. This includes Suicide Prevention, Depression, Bipolar, Schizophrenia, and every other mental health issues affecting our children and adults.
I’d like to share just a little bit of my story. My adult son suffers from Schizoaffective Disorder. That means he has Schizophrenia AND Bipolar with Manic episodes. I’m sure you don’t want to read the WHOLE story of everything I have had to go through to get him treatment. It would take too long, and probably be ten pages long. Let’s just say it’s been a long treacherous road, and it’s not over yet!
The first hurdle I had to overcome is first trying to figure out what was wrong with my son. He was 17 when he first started having symptoms. At first, I just thought he was just a drug addict. He had all the signs of a drug addict. No sleep for days at a time followed by days of nothing but sleeping, no appetite, talking to himself, etc. I seriously thought he was a meth addict. I searched his room, pockets, everywhere, trying to find where he was hiding the drugs. It wasn’t until his first trip to the ER over 8 years ago, that he was finally diagnosed with Bipolar & Schizophrenia. And then the real madness began.
First of all my son was an adult at this point. I cannot tell you how many people I had to plead with, literally beg for his life, and as a last resort, cuss the hell out and literally scream, “I am not leaving until you get my son help!” This includes a group of police officers who witnessed my son standing on a fountain, talking to no one, weighing MAYBE 90 pounds, and being told by those same cops, “It’s not illegal to be crazy Ma’am. There’s nothing we can do.” I almost went to jail over that one, as I screamed at the 6’2 cop, Your gonna get my son help, or else!!!!
Sadly, there were many more days like that. Too many too count. Makes me cry just thinking about it. Sooooo many people I had to beg and plead with, and tell “You are going to help my son.” There were doctors, nurses, police officers, MENTAL HEALTH CASE WORKERS, AMBULANCE DRIVERS, I mean the list goes on and on and on.
We recently moved from California to Arizona. I have had to start the whole nightmare over again in getting him treatment. Just today I sent the FOURTH email to his ‘case worker’ in an effort to get an appointment scheduled. I literally have to babysit every single one of his providers just to get him the care he needs. At this point I know enough to MAKE SURE I EMAIL, and keep written documentation, of all correspondence on everything. All hospital records, medications, doctors’ names, EVERYTHING is documented. Otherwise disaster happens. Like the time he was discharged with medication that required Pre-Auth, except the hospital didn’t get pre-auth, so he went without meds, and then ended up right back in the hospital! Or the time I had transportation arranged for him to go to and from his outpatient treatment appointment and wrote in an email how important it was that they ensure he was directed to the correct vehicle for the return trip home, and they FAILED to do that, left him alone for two hours with no ride back, so he started walking and ended up 20 miles down the road 8 hours later, in another city, with a police officer finally calling me telling me they found my son. Or the time I had to call 911 because he was having an episode and clearly needed to go to the hospital, and the officer that arrived (who I met outside) asked me, “well what do you want us to do, you want us to shoot him?”
Yup, Almost went to jail over that one too.
In any case, if I was not an advocate for my son, for sure he would be dead by now. I cry for all the other mental health patients that have no advocate. It is truly heartbreaking. If you don’t believe me try visiting a long term treatment facility, or a board and care for the mentally ill.
It should absolutely not be this difficult to get my son treatment. It is a full-time job, and I have a full-time job. I should not have to babysit case workers to get him care. I should not have to make 20 phone calls to find out how I can transfer his conservatorship from California to Arizona, I should not have to KNOW medication, what it’s for, what the side effects are, look for the side effects, monitor his medication and make sure it working….I mean after all, I did not go to medical school. Yet somehow, I find myself back in school, not because I want to, but because I HAVE to, in order to make sure he is getting not only care, but the correct care.
There are other things I personally do to ensure my whole family is safe. I do not keep guns in the house. I don’t even keep sharp knife’s in the house. I don’t take my son to scary, or overly violent movies. Although I’d like to enjoy a cocktail or glass of wine after work, I don’t keep alcohol in the house. I do make every effort to help other mental health patients, or parents who are going through, or have gone through the same thing I have. I have educated myself with NAMI, gotten my degree in Behavioral Science (while taking care of the house, working full time, and dealing with case workers & Docs). My next stop is my Elected officials.
What I will not do is go away quietly, or accept “there is nothing I can do.”
In case anyone wants to jump on my bandwagon. Below is a list of places that can be contacted. Crisis information is included. Please don’t be afraid to call each and every one until you get the help and or answers you need.
https://www.nami.org/mentalhealthreform
https://www.veteranscrisisline.net
http://www.crisisnetwork.org/ (Arizona)
http://www.dhcs.ca.gov/services/Pages/MentalHealthPrograms-Svcs.aspx (California)
I feel I must post the good with the bad. Everyday is not horrible, and some are even good. I followed through after the last episode at my house and had another meeting.
You can read about the last episode here: https://livingwithcrazydotorg.wordpress.com/2017/01/22/sneak-peak
My meetings require the cops coming to my door early a.m., along with a mental health worker and a couple of officers as this is what their protocol calls for. My son was pissed and was not happy he was woken up to police officers and a case worker. The good news is that he was open to talking with someone and by the end of the meeting was actually smiling.
It’s a lot of work taking care of someone with mental health issues. Its not for the weak. I feel I am a warrior. Honestly. The blessing in all of it is that no one can say anything to me Like I’m not good enough, or I’m lacking in some area. Not many people can do what I have done. I’m not writing that to brag about how awesome I am. I’m writing because there is certain personal strength you gain from going through something treacherous and surviving. Ask anyone who’s ever been through a life altering event.
So I had a whole day with no drama, no fuss, no attitude, no argument, no super mess in my house, nothing missing (as far as I know) and the cats still alive. It’s a good day.
I am posting in this in hopes it gives people an insight on what it’s like to live with someone who is mentally ill. Perhaps the reality will give human kind a little compassion for those who suffer and for those who live with those who suffer. Mental illness is no joke. Its stressful, traumatizing, and takes a certain courage that not many people have. Here’s a sneak peak;
I went out of town last weekend. I took my 11 year old who is just an 11 year old. Kind of nerdy, super cute (on the inside and out) and always makes me smile. She wanted to go to some nerd convention, so I took her. I also took my oldest son. My younger (24 year old) son stayed at home because he never wants to go anywhere.
I came home to my 24 yr old, who has severe anxiety disorder, some OCD, as well as manic episodes. When I walked in the door I immediately noticed everything in my kitchen was off the counters. No toaster, no can opener, no blender, no nothing. I opened the refrigerator to find the refrigerator completely empty. When I say completely empty I mean no ketchup, no mayo, no hot sauce, no milk, no water, no juice, Nothing. COMPLETELY empty. It costs money to replace every single thing and this is not the first time he has done this. I open the silverware drawer and there is no silverware. I open the utensil drawer and no utensils. No spatula, no spoon, no knives, no pizza cutter, no measuring cups, nothing.
As I came in the door, the 24 year old- mentally ill – wont go to treatment -cant force him because he is over 18- clearly sick – but not sick enough to force into the hospital goes running upstairs and locks himself in the bathroom. I follow behind him, because now I’m pissed. WTF? All my stuff gone???
It gets worse. I go into my my 11 year olds room and her room has been completely re-arranged. All her clothes in the closet have been taken down and put God only knows where. Dresser on the other side of the room. I cant even tell whats missing and whats still there because the whole thing has been re-arranged. There is no excuse for that and now I am beyond pissed. I’m cra-cra too!
I try to break down the bathroom door that he is hiding in. I cant break the door and I don’t want to damage my house even further so I get a screw driver and try to unscrew the lock. The whole time I’m cussing him out telling him he can get the fuck out of my house!!!
Now here’s where it gets difficult. Some people who know my story (very few) tell me to just kick him out of the house. For me, it’s just not that easy. First and foremost, he is sick. Very sick. I know that. He is not doing this stuff because he is being a bad kid, or defiant, or on drugs (no he does not smoke weed, or use any other drugs, and yes, I’m positive). He does this stuff because he has a serious health problem. Its called mental illness. It’s real and its horrible. It’s horrible for me. I cannot imagine how horrible it must be for him.
BUT, I draw the line when he touches my daughters’ stuff. He has to go. This time he wont come out of the bathroom. “Okay, I can play that game. You don’t wanna come out of the bathroom? Well, you gotta come out sometime, ” I’m screaming through the door. “When you come out you have no house key, no door key, no car key, no car, no nothing, just like you left me.”
So I take his car and I move it to some hidden location. I take his house key. Anything else in the house that I can find of his is gone, outta the house. Then I go back upstairs and just try to fucking breath. I don’t want to be screaming and yelling and pissed off. I just came off a nice weekend. My weekend zen is completely blown in 30 seconds or less. I’m not going to let this shit ruin my inner piece. Hummmmm….
I go to my room and pray for peace. I hear him eventually come out of the bathroom, but I’ve already taken his car, his keys, and whatever else, so I’m pretty much done. About an hour later my cell phone rings. Guess who is calling? It’s the police! The lil shit has called the police ON ME and told them I stole his car. Damn right I stole his car. I’ll happily go to jail too before I will let this adult person live in my house and mess with my daughter’s stuff! I tell the cops what happened and they basically start laughing. “it would be funny, except it’s not.” I tell the cops. My son is seriously standing there telling the cops he wants to place a citizens arrest for stealing his car. Nice try. The cops ask me what I want and I give them the answer. Here’s a learning tip: ALWAYS HAVE AN ANSWER. Know what you want. If you don’t have the answer, at least have a suggestion on how to make things better. I tell the cops he needs to take his ass back to the house and replace everything he has re-arranged. The kitchen appliances, all of his sisters clothes, the whole thing. Then, and only then will I give him his car back.
Of course the refrigerator food has all been thrown away. The utensils he said were old and needed to be thrown away. He said he took the clothes out of his sisters room because the hangers had germs on them. I believe he believed that.
By now I know all the cops in the area I live. They know me. Thank God I live in a place that has mental health training for officers. Honestly out of all the police I have been in contact with I have only 2 officers that lacked compassion and skills when dealing with the mentally ill. Those two officers I was sure to get their names and speak to their supervisors. Every other cop has been great. They even have mental health task force. After the weekend nightmare, I called the mental health department. A phone number I keep in my contacts. I set up an appointment and had them come to the house and speak with him. He presents well, and gave perfectly reasonable explanations (germmy hangars). Germ hangars are not a reason to hospitalize someone.
I’ve had to go the hard way with my older son. I was hoping this one would get treatment on his own. He is going to therapy,but only once a month, and that is not enough. The cops are coming to my house again this week. My prayers are that he gets help BEFORE I have to strap him to a gurney and force him to get help.
Until then, Ill be working extra jobs, to replace what is gone.
*If you or a loved one suffers from mental health issues, there is hope, You can contact your local NAMI (National Alliance for the mentally ill) and find out where there are meetings in your area. They can also refer you to resources. (FREE) You can also dial 211 for links to resources.
Of course if you ever feel yourself threatened or a love one is threatening to harm him/herself please call 911. I recommend letting dispatch know it is a mental health issue. They treat those calls different so I believe its important to mention if you ever have to call police.
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I promised myself I would write more this year. Really hunker down and get to writing. I realize I don’t live a normal life, and maybe my craziness can lead to someone else’s hope. I figure if I can stubble through and still keep laughing pretty much anyone can.
I hope this blog gives you hope.
Mothers day is one of the very few days a year I give myself permission to cry. It’s a very difficult holiday for me, and not for the reasons you might think.
My mother is not passed away. She is very much alive and well and I will be visiting her later on. She was not an absentee mother, nor a raging alcoholic. I wasn’t locked in a closet as a youngster, I wasn’t abused, and she wasn’t a addict. I pretty much had a normal childhood. Whatever normal is.
I’m sad because my own kids don’t even know what day it is. I’m pretty sure even if they knew, they could care a less. They are so wrapped up in their own selves, there is no room for another soul, including me. It’s really heartbreaking. It makes me sad. I’m hopeful one day I will look back on this post and things will be different. Until then….
This if for the mothers that have kids who have given them challenges. The mothers who have drug addicted children. The mothers who have kids who suffer from mental illness, the mothers who have kids with cancer, or another sickness. This is for the mothers that mother other peoples kids. For the mothers who have adopted, or fostered, or stepped-up when other mothers haven’t. This is for the mothers that may not have birthed, but are a mother. This is for the mothers that work their ass off 365 days a year, and no one actually gives a shit. If your that mother, this ones for you:
My dearest mother,
You are loved. I see everything you are doing, and I appreciate you. I know you think I don’t notice, or all your hard work is in vain. It is not.
I have chosen you because I know that you are the one that can handle it. I have chosen you because I know you are a warrior. You are so much stronger then even you can recognize. But I recognize. I have given you challenges because you are capable.
On this special day I want you to celebrate yourself. You have so much to be proud of. Take a bath, get a facial, have your nails done, don’t cook, eat out, drink champagne, laugh, watch a movie, go shopping, take a walk, most importantly… SAY NO!
If today no one is recognizing you, do not be sad. For I am who I say I am. And I see you.
Happy Mothers Day.
I love you,
God
Living with Crazy 