Tomorrow is a big day. Lately, all days feel like big days but tomorrow is significantly bigger than most. In the past several days since I've posted, I took Natasha in for her regular counseling appt., had a 2 and 1/2 hour phone interview with a clinician from the NIMH in Maryland, and delivered Jason to the airport at 4a.m. for his flight to Alaska. The counseling appt. went ok. Natasha first refused to participate and said she was not going to talk, so her counselor had both of us come in and eventually pressed Nat into joining. It turned out ok and we got some good mood charts to do for homework but Natasha was really angry at me later because I had told her that she didn't have to talk if she didn't want to. So... even though she was feeling great at the close of the session, she still chose to hold on to the idea that I had betrayed her. Even though I never once told her that she had to answer and I told the counselor she wasn't interested in participating. *sigh* Whatever.
Then, the phone thing which went very well for a phone interview. I didn't have any interruptions or distractions because it was at 6:30a.m., but it was hard. She had me on speaker phone so another psychiatrist could listen in, which was fine, but it was hard to go back over a lifetime and remember time lines and medicine changes and moods and all. Kind of exhausting. I feel bad because I bet a really great mom would know all this stuff but I have a way of blocking out painful memories and that doesn't serve me well in this situation. I tried though and the clinician seemed to think I was doing a good job. We weren't able to finish all of the questions she had and at one point she said "I don't have to tell you that your daughter is a complicated little girl." Yeah. You don't have to tell me. I really want someone to just have some definitive answers but I'm trying not to get discouraged. *sigh* Whatever... again.
Jason heard part of the conversation and when I got off the phone he said "Wow.. sounds really bad when you say it all together like that!" I had been answering questions about our drug use, mental illnesses and criminal history. Blegh. So... now he's gone and I haven't even talked to him since we said goodbye at the airport. He can't call from where he is but I know he got there safely because of his debit card activity. I hope he's doing well! Tomorrow morning at 10:30a.m. we have our 75 minute appt. with the pediatric bipolar specialist who works at Seattle Children's Hospital and the University of Washington as well as her own private practice. I have all the 50 some pages of intake paperwork filled out and I'm excited but really incredibly nervous. I'm terrified she's going to tell us she has no idea what's wrong with Natasha. *sigh* Whatever, yet again.
I'm so overwhelmed by all of this. It really stinks. Plus Natasha has been really cruel lately and I know she's anxious too but she handles it poorly. After the morning appt., I have the rest of the phone interview with NIMH at 1:30. The clinician said we had about 1/2 hour left. Then at 3p.m. we have her appt. with Dr.J for a med check and hopefully he will start her on Lamotrigine. In the midst of all of this craziness, I'm learning that my recurring depression that I've had and have been treated for off and on since I was 15, coupled with my sometimes sudden suicidal thinking, anger issues and weeks of time where I block out all else and focus on creating, (writing books, poetry, building things, doing art) is probably bipolar 2 instead of recurrent major depression. I don't even want to talk about it to anyone because people will probably think I'm being a hypochondriac and I just think I have the same thing my daughter has. *SIGH* WHATEVER....AGAIN.
Sunday, April 8, 2012
Thursday, March 29, 2012
Where's My Personal Assistant?!?!?
I am so relieved that Natasha is at school today. She wasn't happy about it, but she's there. Over the past two months, she's been in such a bad place, it's taken over every aspect of our lives. Now as I'm having more and more days that aren't completely filled with trying to stabilize her, I'm realizing how behind I've gotten. And how exhausted I am. As of tomorrow evening, Jason will have worked 110 hours in the past two weeks and he leaves for Alaska again next week. There he'll be working his usual Alaskan 70 hours a week until August. Poor guy! I'm so thankful to have a workhorse for a husband. We're going to need all the extra hours he's getting to pay for Natasha's Dr. visits! I'm really going to miss him. As usual, with Nat calmed down, we've calmed down too. In fact that seems to be the only time we really argue, come to think of it. Her storms effect us all in such a huge way. My house is a mess, my laundry is overwhelming, the grass needs to be mowed, the cars need to be washed, the girls room are both crying for a complete spring cleaning, the dogs haven't been walked in a week, I have paperwork that needs to be taken care of a.s.a.p., the fridge is full of leftovers... I could go on forever it seems. But, it's so nice to be at the point where I can even notice this stuff. Time to play catch up on life. And in the meantime, I've decided to take Natasha to see the local specialist as well as continue trying to get her in to the NIMH. My amazingly supportive, wonderful mother is coming over on the 2nd to pick up Katie and take her for a spring break, break. Natasha and I have plans to do a makeover in her bedroom, patching holes in the walls and repainting and then we'll go on the 9th to see Dr. Hlastala for the first of three appointments. Later that day we'll be visiting Dr.J and hopefully at that time he'll start her on the Lamotrigine. I wish I could take the week off from work so I could get completely caught up on everything before Jason leaves but I'd probably just end up sleeping all week anyway.
Wednesday, March 28, 2012
Every Silver Lining Has A Cloud
I think Natasha went the whole day yesterday without yelling at anyone. She's still got a lot of anxiety but I can't think of one time yesterday that she blew up. Unfortunately she's spent the whole week home from school. No amount of yelling, pleading, threatening, promising or any other "ing" seems to have any effect on her ability to go. And it's not that she's too tired, she's just so worried. Worried that since she'd gaining weight on the risperdal, her friends will call her fat, worried that she doesn't have anything to wear, worried that she'll start laughing uncontrollably in class again and get in trouble or people will call her weird, worried that she'll start worrying and her teacher won't let her talk to the counselor.. etc. *sigh* If only she was as worried as I am that she'll have to repeat 6th grade!
Tuesday, March 27, 2012
Splitting Doll Hairs
I despise it
I adore you
It exhausts me
You fill me with pride
It scares me
You comfort me
I'm confused my it
Your eyes tell me
It is it
You are you
I love you
I adore you
It exhausts me
You fill me with pride
It scares me
You comfort me
I'm confused my it
Your eyes tell me
It is it
You are you
I love you
Pediatric Bipolar Research Study or Pediatric Bipolar Specialist
Another encouraging step last night. I got a call back from a psychologist here in Washington who just so happens to specialize (really specialize, not pretend specialize.) in pediatric bipolar disorder. AND who is taking appointments for evaluations! In my search I came across the name of Dr. Stephanie Hlastala, who I called and left a message for on the off chance she was taking new patients. She called me back last night and gave me three separate appt. times that she could see Natasha in the next two weeks! Since we don't have insurance it's not going to be cheap because she does a three visit evaluation but I expected as much. Now we're getting somewhere!
I also got a call back from the clinician at the NIMH yesterday afternoon and we set up our time for the two hour phone interview. She'll be calling me on the 4th of April. So I'm now faced with the decision of whether or not I want to try and wait and see if the NIMH invites us to join the research study, on the opposite coast, providing every scan and test imaginable and the expertise of... experts, for free, or go with the specialist who is available immediately and who's office is 30 minutes from our house but will set us back a large (large to my current bank statement anyway,) sum of money. Or should I do both? What to do... what to do.
I also got a call back from the clinician at the NIMH yesterday afternoon and we set up our time for the two hour phone interview. She'll be calling me on the 4th of April. So I'm now faced with the decision of whether or not I want to try and wait and see if the NIMH invites us to join the research study, on the opposite coast, providing every scan and test imaginable and the expertise of... experts, for free, or go with the specialist who is available immediately and who's office is 30 minutes from our house but will set us back a large (large to my current bank statement anyway,) sum of money. Or should I do both? What to do... what to do.
Monday, March 26, 2012
Not So Secrets of NIMH - Part 2
I had my first "interview" this morning with a research assistant from the NIMH. She explained the types of programs they are doing right now and gave me an outline of how they work. There are two different studies going one, one for pediatric bipolar disorder that clearly fits into the current DSM's parameters and one for SMD. She said they have an inpatient or outpatient study available and explained how each would work. The inpatient study is pretty extensive and the child may be there for several months. They wean them off of whatever medication they're on and start fresh. Then they participate in a clinical trial of medications that lasts 8 weeks. During that time they attend school, have their own nurse in the four bed facility and meet with the psych. every morning. The NIMH flies out one parent every other week for a one day visit and provides food, travel and lodging. Eventually, after the clinical trial is concluded, they are stabilized and returned home.
For the outpatient study they work with the home psych to advise on diagnosis and medication after they do extensive tests there in Maryland. Then the child returns every year for more tests and they do phone interviews every six months. They follow the child until age 25. I'm excited because she said they are more than happy to provide 2nd opinions and your child does not have to have the diagnosis before they qualify. So... this may be a good opportunity for Natasha. A clinician is going to call me back and set up the second phone interview, which will be about 1.5 hours. Then they will present the case at the next meeting of Dr.s there and decide whether or not to accept Natasha into the facility.
For the outpatient study they work with the home psych to advise on diagnosis and medication after they do extensive tests there in Maryland. Then the child returns every year for more tests and they do phone interviews every six months. They follow the child until age 25. I'm excited because she said they are more than happy to provide 2nd opinions and your child does not have to have the diagnosis before they qualify. So... this may be a good opportunity for Natasha. A clinician is going to call me back and set up the second phone interview, which will be about 1.5 hours. Then they will present the case at the next meeting of Dr.s there and decide whether or not to accept Natasha into the facility.
Sunday, March 25, 2012
Just Before Dawn
I watch you breathe.
Your small shoulders look so frail,
your little ribcage so vulnerable as it rises and falls.
Your eyelashes, thick and long,
gently rest on your face
as your eyes dart back and forth beneath the lids.
I wonder.
What are you dreaming? Is it sweet or full of sorrow?
Does the blackness that haunts my sleepless hours,
touch your dreams?
The stars are fading.
Soon the sun will peek it's head over the distant mountains
and grace us with it's glory.
I feel the darkness in my soul tugging,
it's fingers flickering like flames, licking at the edges of every thought.
I fear it will consume me.
I close my eyes tight,
tears bleeding down my cheeks from my bladed eyelids.
Why can't I lose this?
Opening my eyes,
I look at you through an ocean,
and fear grips my heart like an icy cold fist.
How will you survive this black, this shadow?
Born of two broken hearts, scarred with hungry swipes of an unseen demon,
begging us back to the dirt.
She is broken too.
She was born with black eyes.
Her storm is different but somehow the same. Pulling her.
But you. Did you hide inside me? Staying very still so it did not see you?
Or did the hooded cloak watch you grow and decide you were too pure to touch?
Perhaps.
As the room grows light I feel the fingers pulling, tearing at me to walk away.
I stay.
Your small shoulders will keep me.
I pull your blanket up and cover them.
Those tiny shoulders.
I clench my teeth and make myself watch you.
Digging my fingernails into my palms,
I welcome the pain and let myself sob.
I know your shoulders will keep me.
-J
Your small shoulders look so frail,
your little ribcage so vulnerable as it rises and falls.
Your eyelashes, thick and long,
gently rest on your face
as your eyes dart back and forth beneath the lids.
I wonder.
What are you dreaming? Is it sweet or full of sorrow?
Does the blackness that haunts my sleepless hours,
touch your dreams?
The stars are fading.
Soon the sun will peek it's head over the distant mountains
and grace us with it's glory.
I feel the darkness in my soul tugging,
it's fingers flickering like flames, licking at the edges of every thought.
I fear it will consume me.
I close my eyes tight,
tears bleeding down my cheeks from my bladed eyelids.
Why can't I lose this?
Opening my eyes,
I look at you through an ocean,
and fear grips my heart like an icy cold fist.
How will you survive this black, this shadow?
Born of two broken hearts, scarred with hungry swipes of an unseen demon,
begging us back to the dirt.
She is broken too.
She was born with black eyes.
Her storm is different but somehow the same. Pulling her.
But you. Did you hide inside me? Staying very still so it did not see you?
Or did the hooded cloak watch you grow and decide you were too pure to touch?
Perhaps.
As the room grows light I feel the fingers pulling, tearing at me to walk away.
I stay.
Your small shoulders will keep me.
I pull your blanket up and cover them.
Those tiny shoulders.
I clench my teeth and make myself watch you.
Digging my fingernails into my palms,
I welcome the pain and let myself sob.
I know your shoulders will keep me.
-J
Friday, March 23, 2012
The Not-So-Secrets of NIMH
I got a call back from the National Institute of Mental Health (NIMH) and they are going to call me on Monday morning for a phone interview. From what the website says, if they think Natasha qualifies for their pediatric bipolar disorder study they would then fly us out to Maryland for an interview there.
http://patientinfo.nimh.nih.gov/BipolarDisorderPediatric.aspx
http://patientinfo.nimh.nih.gov/BipolarDisorderPediatric.aspx
Kitty Cat Katie and My Heart's Darkest Thoughts
I haven't said much yet about Natasha's seven year old sister Katie. I guess because it makes me feel so ashamed to have my baby growing up on the battle field. I'm sure I'm not the only parent who struggles with this and for the most part I can be very open and honest about the garbage that goes on in our family but Katie is a sore subject. My eyes brim with tears when I think of her little heart, filled with fear, trying to sort out the freakish behavior of her sister and often parents. She is such a kind little kid. I feel like I want to type these next sentences in the teeniest font so nobody can read it. Sometimes I wish Natasha would go away. Far, far away and never come back. I've even had flashes of thought of smothering her with her pillow to get her to stop screaming and verbally abusing her sister. Then I get so disgusted with myself for feeling that way I start to sink into a deep depression and wonder if I'm even fit to parent at all. I should be above such feelings. I should be a more patient, loving mom. I'm a monster.
I did have something to say about Katie but I think I'll try again later.
I did have something to say about Katie but I think I'll try again later.
Thursday, March 22, 2012
Agility Course for Mom
Have you ever watched a puppy learn an agility course? If you have, you'll know exactly what I'm feeling right now. I'm at that - "Ah ha! You want me to jump over these hurdles one after another, then run back and forth between these poles really fast, then run up this ramp and down the other side!" -moment. I'm catching on to how this plays out. I just hope I get a treat at the end somewhere.
I suppose this post might make sense if I start at the beginning. I got a call from the new PNP a few days back and she had some news that was really disheartening. She's not comfortable seeing Natasha long term as she feels like her issues are outside of the scope of what she's capable of treating. She is very concerned that while she may be bipolar, she also may have conduct disorder, oppositional defiant disorder and possibly ADHD. She mentioned that we should try to get her in to see a specialist (I thought that's what she was!) as Children's hospital in Seattle and the only thing she's comfortable trying in the meantime is a stimulant. If it helps then it must be ADHD, if Natasha is bipolar then it may send her into a manic rage and we could all die a horrible death at the hands of our twelve year old. Ok, she didn't actually say that last part but she might as well have. I know my daughter and she does NOT have ADHD, she does NOT have conduct disorder and she is NOT going to be put on a stimulant to "see what happens". Jeez. What a crock!
After this lovely conversation I called her original psychiatrist back (I will refer to him as DrJ from now on) and it was like he knew what I was thinking before I even called. He said that if she is bipolar that we definitely need to ease up on the Sertraline and he's glad the upped dose of Risperdal is helping. He has always seemed to trust my opinion and I guess I just needed to be really adamant about what I'm seeing in her. He's a genuinely great guy. I was just hoping that there would be someone out there who would see her and say "Hey, that kid's bipolar! Let me tell you what to do!" No such luck. When I talked to DrJ he said that we might try Lamactil but he really wants to get a second opinion before he diagnoses her as bipolar. I appreciate his restraint and cautious approach as long as he's willing to address it. He gave me that name and contact info. for several top specialists, a Dr. Karen Myers at the University of Washington, Dr. Kiki Chang at Stanford, Dr. Judith Rapoport at the NIMH in Maryland and a Dr. Karen Dineen Wagner in Texas. I called them all and unfortunately none of them are seeing new patients. Dr. Chang's office did say to call back in about a month to check again. *sigh* Oh well. We have another appt. with DrJ on April 9th so maybe by then he'll have more ideas. Actually, I should mention that I didn't hear back from NIMH yet so that is still an option until I hear otherwise. They have a bipolar research study going on and we would have to fly across the nation every couple months but they pay for everything. Pretty dramatic but evidently diagnosing this is very complicated and since it's rare and such a big deal, the good psychiatrists aren't going to jump to any conclusions.
I feel good though. Partly because Natasha is much easier to deal with now and is at school AGAIN.. and partly because I'm like that pup who gets the light bulb over it's head. "Ohhhh... I thought I was done after that first jump but really there's a whole course I have to do!" Tougher than I expected and it will take a lot longer but at least I know what's going on now.
I did forget to mention to DrJ during our last conversation that Natasha is gaining weight like crazy now that we've upped the Risperdal so I'm waiting for another call back from him. I've read that Abilify is less apt to cause weight gain but is crazy expensive and since we don't have health insurance (or money at the moment) I guess I should check in with the pharmacist before I even ask DrJ if we should change it. I read up on Lamactil (Lamotrigine) after he mentioned it and I think it sounds like a good place to start, although I have moments when it absolutely shocks me that I am giving stuff like this to my daughter. I don't even give my kids antibiotics! What kind of idiot am I!?! Anti-depressants, anti-psychotics, mood stabilizers?!? To a child??? Yeah. Risk and benefit weighing aside, it makes me feel physically sick to my stomach when I think of what I might be doing to her body. But I spent 7 years trying other things first so.. here we are. The hurdles keep coming and I'll just keep jumping.
I suppose this post might make sense if I start at the beginning. I got a call from the new PNP a few days back and she had some news that was really disheartening. She's not comfortable seeing Natasha long term as she feels like her issues are outside of the scope of what she's capable of treating. She is very concerned that while she may be bipolar, she also may have conduct disorder, oppositional defiant disorder and possibly ADHD. She mentioned that we should try to get her in to see a specialist (I thought that's what she was!) as Children's hospital in Seattle and the only thing she's comfortable trying in the meantime is a stimulant. If it helps then it must be ADHD, if Natasha is bipolar then it may send her into a manic rage and we could all die a horrible death at the hands of our twelve year old. Ok, she didn't actually say that last part but she might as well have. I know my daughter and she does NOT have ADHD, she does NOT have conduct disorder and she is NOT going to be put on a stimulant to "see what happens". Jeez. What a crock!
After this lovely conversation I called her original psychiatrist back (I will refer to him as DrJ from now on) and it was like he knew what I was thinking before I even called. He said that if she is bipolar that we definitely need to ease up on the Sertraline and he's glad the upped dose of Risperdal is helping. He has always seemed to trust my opinion and I guess I just needed to be really adamant about what I'm seeing in her. He's a genuinely great guy. I was just hoping that there would be someone out there who would see her and say "Hey, that kid's bipolar! Let me tell you what to do!" No such luck. When I talked to DrJ he said that we might try Lamactil but he really wants to get a second opinion before he diagnoses her as bipolar. I appreciate his restraint and cautious approach as long as he's willing to address it. He gave me that name and contact info. for several top specialists, a Dr. Karen Myers at the University of Washington, Dr. Kiki Chang at Stanford, Dr. Judith Rapoport at the NIMH in Maryland and a Dr. Karen Dineen Wagner in Texas. I called them all and unfortunately none of them are seeing new patients. Dr. Chang's office did say to call back in about a month to check again. *sigh* Oh well. We have another appt. with DrJ on April 9th so maybe by then he'll have more ideas. Actually, I should mention that I didn't hear back from NIMH yet so that is still an option until I hear otherwise. They have a bipolar research study going on and we would have to fly across the nation every couple months but they pay for everything. Pretty dramatic but evidently diagnosing this is very complicated and since it's rare and such a big deal, the good psychiatrists aren't going to jump to any conclusions.
I feel good though. Partly because Natasha is much easier to deal with now and is at school AGAIN.. and partly because I'm like that pup who gets the light bulb over it's head. "Ohhhh... I thought I was done after that first jump but really there's a whole course I have to do!" Tougher than I expected and it will take a lot longer but at least I know what's going on now.
I did forget to mention to DrJ during our last conversation that Natasha is gaining weight like crazy now that we've upped the Risperdal so I'm waiting for another call back from him. I've read that Abilify is less apt to cause weight gain but is crazy expensive and since we don't have health insurance (or money at the moment) I guess I should check in with the pharmacist before I even ask DrJ if we should change it. I read up on Lamactil (Lamotrigine) after he mentioned it and I think it sounds like a good place to start, although I have moments when it absolutely shocks me that I am giving stuff like this to my daughter. I don't even give my kids antibiotics! What kind of idiot am I!?! Anti-depressants, anti-psychotics, mood stabilizers?!? To a child??? Yeah. Risk and benefit weighing aside, it makes me feel physically sick to my stomach when I think of what I might be doing to her body. But I spent 7 years trying other things first so.. here we are. The hurdles keep coming and I'll just keep jumping.
Wednesday, March 21, 2012
Remorse, Regret and Recovery
Natasha is still slowly but surely feeling better. Her anxiety level is pretty high but the depression is lifting. She's noticed that her sleep patterns are getting back to normal and she's gone to school the last two days as well as every day last week except Tuesday. We went on our three day vacation over the weekend despite my fears that she should be staying in a hospital room instead of a motel room. We powered through it though and although there were several times we were sure we were going to be asked to leave the motel or have the cops called on us as people stared at her running away crying in the parking lot, we managed to have a lot of fun. Thankfully my parents were vacationing with us and they are a wonderful support team for me and my family.
Now that she's thinking more clearly, her sorrow at the destruction in her room is sad to see. During one of the rage episodes she was going through, she took her FAVORITE stuffed animal of all time, a bulldog named Bacon, and slashed him to pieces with scissors. She cut off his foot, ears and tail and sliced the rest of him up as if he was indeed... bacon. The other night she brought him to me in tears, begging me to help her fix him. It shocked me because she's so attached to her blanket and this bulldog, I'd have never guessed in a million years that she would do anything to damage it. It was a little scary and really heartbreaking to see her cradling her mangled toy, pleading for me to sew his wounds.
I told her on Monday when she refused to go to school, that I would sew him up if she went on Tuesday. So.. now to prep this pup for his plastic surgery. Cotton surgery, really.
Now that she's thinking more clearly, her sorrow at the destruction in her room is sad to see. During one of the rage episodes she was going through, she took her FAVORITE stuffed animal of all time, a bulldog named Bacon, and slashed him to pieces with scissors. She cut off his foot, ears and tail and sliced the rest of him up as if he was indeed... bacon. The other night she brought him to me in tears, begging me to help her fix him. It shocked me because she's so attached to her blanket and this bulldog, I'd have never guessed in a million years that she would do anything to damage it. It was a little scary and really heartbreaking to see her cradling her mangled toy, pleading for me to sew his wounds.
I told her on Monday when she refused to go to school, that I would sew him up if she went on Tuesday. So.. now to prep this pup for his plastic surgery. Cotton surgery, really.
Thursday, March 15, 2012
I Wouldn't Wish a Bipolar Child on Anyone. Well... Maybe A Couple People.
So..... I feel the need to write something but I also feel the need to crawl under a rock somewhere and hide there until I become a fossil in the dirt. *sigh* She's still coming out of it slowly but surely. Each day the percentage of smile grows while the tears decrease. She went to school both yesterday and today but I'm horrified at what her peers must think. She hasn't showered or brushed her hair in a week and just puts on whatever clothes are on her floor at the last minute before she huffs off to the bus stop. Such a sharp contrast to the other times where she's clean, smells good, brushes her beautiful hair and wears lip gloss and clean cute outfits. At least she's going to school.
I can't wait until the next appointment with her new PNP. I hope she can give me tips about coming up with an IEP at the school. Right now Natasha has the first 3 periods of the day with the same teacher and he seems like quite a control freak. He knows about her disability and still tells her she can't go to the bathroom because he thinks she's trying to see the school counselor. WHAT?!?! He's been told that's what she's supposed to do if she needs to! I emailed him yesterday and put him on notice. She was sitting on the floor this morning, wailing that her stomach didn't feel good and she was worried about not being able to go to the bathroom if she needed to. I told her if he said no to walk out of the classroom. She started screaming that she would get in trouble and I told her that I would handle it for her and if the school didn't pay attention, she didn't have to go there anymore.
We've had this trouble before. There was one teacher in particular, I think it was 2 years ago, who in spite of Natasha having a very clear 504 plan that stated she was allowed to use whatever bathroom she wanted, whenever she wanted, would routinely deny her a pass. Jason and I were so angry at the horrible lady. This was before we knew Natasha was bipolar and we were just dealing with the OCD. She has always had a terrible fear of getting sick to her stomach and throwing up or having diarrhea. She goes to the bathroom often to check and see if she needs to go and if you even mention that she may be ill she goes into a complete conniption fit that can last for hours. (We had informed the office staff and the teacher of this several times.) This teacher actually told her one day, in a really nasty way, that she used the bathroom way too much and her parents should take her to the doctor because obviously she was very very sick. I had already written several emails to the school counselor and principal about the lady, but after that statement I threatened to take legal action if they didn't fire her or make her cooperate. They were as angry as I was and after that she fell in line although she still managed to make snarky comments that were right on the line.
Sometimes there are people I have to deal with that are so judgmental and I can see on their faces that they think her problems are those of a coddled child and if we were tougher on her she would shape up. I have fantasies in my head about chaining them to a chair and sticking them in a room with Natasha when she's going off. I would leave them there for days. I can imagine that moment when I let them go and they would stumble off down the street, eyes staring blankly, clothes hanging in tatters off their scratched and scraped torsos, blood dripping from their ears and I would call after them, "Still feel like telling her no?!?"
Anyway.. Natasha is at school right now and if she can clean her room before Friday morning, she will go to on vacation with us. She was so upset the other day at herself for not going to school. I knew she was going to hate herself and she did. We'll see how it goes but at least she's out of the scary rage part. I think.
I can't wait until the next appointment with her new PNP. I hope she can give me tips about coming up with an IEP at the school. Right now Natasha has the first 3 periods of the day with the same teacher and he seems like quite a control freak. He knows about her disability and still tells her she can't go to the bathroom because he thinks she's trying to see the school counselor. WHAT?!?! He's been told that's what she's supposed to do if she needs to! I emailed him yesterday and put him on notice. She was sitting on the floor this morning, wailing that her stomach didn't feel good and she was worried about not being able to go to the bathroom if she needed to. I told her if he said no to walk out of the classroom. She started screaming that she would get in trouble and I told her that I would handle it for her and if the school didn't pay attention, she didn't have to go there anymore.
We've had this trouble before. There was one teacher in particular, I think it was 2 years ago, who in spite of Natasha having a very clear 504 plan that stated she was allowed to use whatever bathroom she wanted, whenever she wanted, would routinely deny her a pass. Jason and I were so angry at the horrible lady. This was before we knew Natasha was bipolar and we were just dealing with the OCD. She has always had a terrible fear of getting sick to her stomach and throwing up or having diarrhea. She goes to the bathroom often to check and see if she needs to go and if you even mention that she may be ill she goes into a complete conniption fit that can last for hours. (We had informed the office staff and the teacher of this several times.) This teacher actually told her one day, in a really nasty way, that she used the bathroom way too much and her parents should take her to the doctor because obviously she was very very sick. I had already written several emails to the school counselor and principal about the lady, but after that statement I threatened to take legal action if they didn't fire her or make her cooperate. They were as angry as I was and after that she fell in line although she still managed to make snarky comments that were right on the line.
Sometimes there are people I have to deal with that are so judgmental and I can see on their faces that they think her problems are those of a coddled child and if we were tougher on her she would shape up. I have fantasies in my head about chaining them to a chair and sticking them in a room with Natasha when she's going off. I would leave them there for days. I can imagine that moment when I let them go and they would stumble off down the street, eyes staring blankly, clothes hanging in tatters off their scratched and scraped torsos, blood dripping from their ears and I would call after them, "Still feel like telling her no?!?"
Anyway.. Natasha is at school right now and if she can clean her room before Friday morning, she will go to on vacation with us. She was so upset the other day at herself for not going to school. I knew she was going to hate herself and she did. We'll see how it goes but at least she's out of the scary rage part. I think.
Tuesday, March 13, 2012
House Cat in a Tiger Skin
I am intensely crabby today and I don't feel like trying to be calm, trying to be patient or trying to be a good mom. I am so angry at Natasha. The problem is that whenever she starts coming out of a really bad period, she thinks that she can be a punk and it will be excused as uncontrollable behavior. I can tell the difference though and then I have to be extra vigilante with every rule and law in our house or she acts like a manipulative brat just because she can. A cat in tiger's clothing.
So last night she did pretty well, she's sleeping a lot more and only had about an hour of screaming and arguing. Then we talked about our family vacation that's coming up. I had told her this past weekend that she needs to go to school every day this week if she expects to go. She's fully capable of that at this point and last night I told her that I had faith in her that she would make the right decision. She doesn't like to be forced into anything due to her OCD making her feel like something bad will happen so I told her to not stress about it at night, that each morning this week she can look at her two choices and make a decision. She goes to school and goes to the ocean with us, or she skips school again and goes to a family members house for the weekend. I know how bad she's been wanting to go. We've planned this for months and she's been ecstatic. Horseback riding on the beach, a nice hotel to stay in, swimming pool, mini golf, nice dinners out, kite flying and shopping.
Last night she was telling me that she didn't believe I wouldn't let her go with us if she skipped school. I said, "I'd bet money that you go to school because I know you don't want to miss this." Her reply was to ask how much money. She wanted $500 and I told her I would bet her $100 that she went to school. She said, "So you'll pay me $100 to stay home from school?" I reminded her that she would miss our vacation time and even as I was saying it I really believed she would choose to go. I have done stuff like this with her often and I time it carefully with where she is mentally at that point and I've never been wrong. Well.. this time I was.
She asked me last night to get her up early this morning so she could take a shower and I tried to wake her up all morning but she refused to get out of bed. She wasn't being defiant, she was fully aware of the decision she was making but she said she didn't want to go on vacation and she was not going to go to school. I tried to talk sense into her and even recorded her saying she understood the consequences of her decision. No luck. I'm so mad at her because she knows that she wants to go. I know how bad she's going to feel about it later and I tried to get that across to her but now I have to enforce the rules in a way I REALLY don't want to. I feel like a miserable excuse for a parent today. I'm doing everything monumentally wrong.
So last night she did pretty well, she's sleeping a lot more and only had about an hour of screaming and arguing. Then we talked about our family vacation that's coming up. I had told her this past weekend that she needs to go to school every day this week if she expects to go. She's fully capable of that at this point and last night I told her that I had faith in her that she would make the right decision. She doesn't like to be forced into anything due to her OCD making her feel like something bad will happen so I told her to not stress about it at night, that each morning this week she can look at her two choices and make a decision. She goes to school and goes to the ocean with us, or she skips school again and goes to a family members house for the weekend. I know how bad she's been wanting to go. We've planned this for months and she's been ecstatic. Horseback riding on the beach, a nice hotel to stay in, swimming pool, mini golf, nice dinners out, kite flying and shopping.
Last night she was telling me that she didn't believe I wouldn't let her go with us if she skipped school. I said, "I'd bet money that you go to school because I know you don't want to miss this." Her reply was to ask how much money. She wanted $500 and I told her I would bet her $100 that she went to school. She said, "So you'll pay me $100 to stay home from school?" I reminded her that she would miss our vacation time and even as I was saying it I really believed she would choose to go. I have done stuff like this with her often and I time it carefully with where she is mentally at that point and I've never been wrong. Well.. this time I was.
She asked me last night to get her up early this morning so she could take a shower and I tried to wake her up all morning but she refused to get out of bed. She wasn't being defiant, she was fully aware of the decision she was making but she said she didn't want to go on vacation and she was not going to go to school. I tried to talk sense into her and even recorded her saying she understood the consequences of her decision. No luck. I'm so mad at her because she knows that she wants to go. I know how bad she's going to feel about it later and I tried to get that across to her but now I have to enforce the rules in a way I REALLY don't want to. I feel like a miserable excuse for a parent today. I'm doing everything monumentally wrong.
Monday, March 12, 2012
Broken Doll by Paloma Faith
I have to share something that for me, was one of those moments where something spoke so loudly and unexpectedly to me that it made me tear up. When I was designing this blog and deciding what to call it, I felt like Broken Doll was a perfect fit. I called Natasha a broken doll recently when she was laying over the couch in a very haute couture modeling pose. After I said it, I thought to myself how it fit her in many ways. So, when I decided to name the blog that, I googled Broken Doll to make sure I wouldn't be stealing anyone elses idea or unknowingly copying something. When I did, a link to the song Broken Doll by Paloma Faith popped up. I've never heard of her or the song and went ahead with designing the blog page but later I went back and read the lyrics. The way they fit Natasha is almost shocking. She has moments in her life where she comes to me sobbing, saying she feels so bad that she acts the way she does and she never shows me how much she appreciates everything I do for her. She knows that despite the mess, I love her SO much and will go to the ends of the earth to help her and find a way to make her life easier. She can't help herself and this song is like listening to her talk to me. So sweet and sad.
Broken Doll by Paloma Faith
I'm a broken doll,
And you're the puppeteer,
Take control for me
And wipe away my fear.
I don't claim to be perfect -
I know I'm damaged goods,
But I wanna be let out of darkness
Just like every lady would.
Lick my wounds and watch them seal
With a healing heart,
Embrace my sadness, look after me,
'Cause there's no-one else I'd ask.
I'm a broken doll,
And you're the puppeteer,
Take control for me
And wipe away my fear.
Piece me all together,
The broken high and sweet,
You thought my heart was made of wood
But I can hear it beat.
I'm scared of shadows in the night,
When you're not there by my side.
Sick of nightmares in my sleep -
There's no place I can hide.
See the beauty in the blood,
That drips down from my eyes
Hold the parts that were ripped out
That had took me by surprise.
I'm a broken doll,
And you're the puppeteer,
Take control for me
And wipe away my fear.
Piece me all together,
The broken high and sweet,
You thought my heart was made of wood
But I can hear it beat.
Boom, Boom,
There it goes,
Boom, Boom,
To the sound of the grand piano.
I'm dancing in your light,
And I like it.
I'm a broken doll,
And you're the puppeteer,
Take control for me
And wipe away my fear.
I'm a broken doll,
And you're the puppeteer,
Take control for me
And wipe away my fear.
Piece me all together,
The broken high and sweet,
You thought my heart was made of wood
But I can hear it beat.
I'm a broken doll,
And you're the puppeteer,
Take control for me
And wipe away my fear.
Piece me all together,
The broken high and sweet,
You thought my heart was made of wood
But I, I hear it beat.
More lyrics: http://www.lyricsmania.com/broken_doll_lyrics_paloma_faith.html
All about Paloma Faith: http://www.musictory.com/music/Paloma+Faith
Broken Doll by Paloma Faith
I'm a broken doll,
And you're the puppeteer,
Take control for me
And wipe away my fear.
I don't claim to be perfect -
I know I'm damaged goods,
But I wanna be let out of darkness
Just like every lady would.
Lick my wounds and watch them seal
With a healing heart,
Embrace my sadness, look after me,
'Cause there's no-one else I'd ask.
I'm a broken doll,
And you're the puppeteer,
Take control for me
And wipe away my fear.
Piece me all together,
The broken high and sweet,
You thought my heart was made of wood
But I can hear it beat.
I'm scared of shadows in the night,
When you're not there by my side.
Sick of nightmares in my sleep -
There's no place I can hide.
See the beauty in the blood,
That drips down from my eyes
Hold the parts that were ripped out
That had took me by surprise.
I'm a broken doll,
And you're the puppeteer,
Take control for me
And wipe away my fear.
Piece me all together,
The broken high and sweet,
You thought my heart was made of wood
But I can hear it beat.
Boom, Boom,
There it goes,
Boom, Boom,
To the sound of the grand piano.
I'm dancing in your light,
And I like it.
I'm a broken doll,
And you're the puppeteer,
Take control for me
And wipe away my fear.
I'm a broken doll,
And you're the puppeteer,
Take control for me
And wipe away my fear.
Piece me all together,
The broken high and sweet,
You thought my heart was made of wood
But I can hear it beat.
I'm a broken doll,
And you're the puppeteer,
Take control for me
And wipe away my fear.
Piece me all together,
The broken high and sweet,
You thought my heart was made of wood
But I, I hear it beat.
More lyrics: http://www.lyricsmania.com/broken_doll_lyrics_paloma_faith.html
All about Paloma Faith: http://www.musictory.com/music/Paloma+Faith
One Two.. Skip a Few
Well, I haven't had time to finish my story line of Natasha's life but I need to document this weekend while it's still fresh in my mind. On Saturday I took my youngest daughter Katie to have a pulpotomy (root canal) at the dentist and as I sat there watching my seven year old tremble and sob while the dentist and hygienist bent over her like some hunchbacked mad scientists, I wondered if this would really be the worst part of our day.
After the dentist, Jason took care of Katie at home while I took Natasha to her counseling appointment, which as far as I could tell from the waiting room went fine. Then we were off to meet a new psychiatrist. A psychiatric nurse practitioner to be precise. We made it to the building with little difficulty and Natasha seemed calm enough. Happy even. I can tell that she is on her way out of this cycle. It happens slowly though, with several setbacks. I've learned to recognize the signs and they always follow the same pattern. We sat with the PNP for an hour and a half and she asked a million questions. I was eager to tell her everything I know but it is impossible to describe the details of 12 years in that amount of time. Mid way through the evaluation she said that it didn't really seem like it fit the bipolar description because we weren't really describing periods of depression that followed the extreme anger and rage. I thought about it for a moment and then she went on to describe what the depression can look and sound like. Natasha looked at me with frustration that we hadn't gotten our point across and I told the PNP that she used those exact phrases and behaviors during the later part of the cycle. See... the problem with all of this is that nobody has ever told me what depression can look like in a child and what mania can look like in a child. I describe what she goes through as a "bad time" from start to finish. I always thought mania was crazy, out of control hyper, laughing, happy and delusional. All of these thing Natasha experiences but not in a "too happy" type way or for weeks at a time without stop. She usually starts off wild and angry and crazy and then it turns into "help me!" But.. both are loud and in your face kind of behavior. I assumed depression was laying in bed quietly, not wanting to get up, not wanting to talk. I guess this is why it's taken so long to figure this out. According to the lovely lady we were talking to, depression is not marked by how quiet someone is, it's the phrases they use (i.e. "what's the point in me being alive, I'll never be happy) and behaviors they show no matter how quietly or earshatteringly they are expressed.
So... we walked away from the appointment feeling more sure than ever that this is exactly what she has. At the end of the appointment the PNP seemed to feel the same way. I just feel so mad at myself that I didn't take the time before to document each day! I could have done so much good for my daughter if I had taken the time to keep a journal of some sort. *sigh* I guess that's why it takes an average of ten years to diagnose bipolar disorder in kids. We have another appointment in two weeks only because next weekend we'll be out of town on vacation. She told us that there are a couple choices for medication but mood stabilizers aren't approved for use in kids so it's a touch and go situation and you have to go very slowly. I still haven't told her other psychiatrist that we were going to get a second opinion so now I have to get everyone on the same page.
Anyway, when we got home she seemed ok for an hour or so and then went into a massive rage because we told her that she couldn't go to her grandma's house for the day. She did her usual thing, throwing the world's biggest temper tantrum in the doorway of the kitchen, trapping us all with her and her wild shrieking. I finally had to lift her up from behind by her elbows and take her to her room. She grabs onto door jambs and anything she can to prevent us from removing her from the room and since she weighs over 120lbs now, that task of moving her in itself is mighty. Then I had to stand and hold her doorknob while she tried to rip it open, screaming all the while for me to let her out. I described it once to my mother-in-law as a house cat or a tiger. When she's a cat we can deal with her like a cat, talking to her, hugging her, disciplining her when needed by a stern tone and perhaps taking away her favorite feather toy if she's acting up. And when she does act up, it's typical bad cat behavior. But when she's a tiger we can't talk, we certainly can't touch and a stern tone or removal of toy only serves to anger her more. And bad tiger behavior is really really scary. We have to put her in a safe place and cage her there until she's a cat again. We used to have a lock on her door but now her whole doorjamb is shattered. (By me when I was trying to give her her pills and she was running through the house screaming, ran into her room and slammed to door. I opened it with my foot since my hands were full. Unfortunate choice) Now we can't lock her door or even keep it shut, so my husband came down the hall and we opened her door and stood there looking at the doorjamb to see if he could fix it. She became so enraged that we were standing there together in her space that she began throwing things in our direction like she was a pitcher for the Yankees. Large, heavy things mind you.
This went on for a couple minutes and then she started wailing and scratching at her arms with her fingernails and telling her dad that he was a f$#&ing dumb*$# and to get out of her room.
(Now, to those of you who haven't lived with our daugher, I'm sure this sounds like an easy enough fix. Just walk out and let her vent her anger right? Well, that does NOT work. We've told her that her room is her safe place to explode and if she feels that anger building up she can go in her room and scream or throw things or whatever she needs to do. She won't. Each time she throws a "fit" we tell her to go to her room and that just pushes her even further into fight mode. She will literally follow us around the house doing and saying anything she can to get a reaction. We have spent countless hours of our lives trying the ignore it, do not engage technique and it just ends up lasting much, much longer and ruining everyone's day. Her persistence is so intense, I don't know how many times I've said that if she could channel that fixation into something positive, she could rule the world one day. So for those who don't know us, I know some of the things I put on here may seem like an obvious fix but those fixes have best tested, tried and failed miserably. And not just tested for a week or so, I mean tested long enough for a child to adjust to it as a fact of life.)
Back to the point, my husband has never had much control over his temper and I was amazed at his restraint. She kept it up and he stepped farther into her room and told her that he was going to take her ipod away for one day for each swear word she said. She kept it up and then got on her bed and started throwing things across the room at her wall, making dents in the drywall. He said something about her wall in a semi-calm tone and then she said, "You did that you idiot!" He looked at her and I swear, I literally saw him snap. He picked up a stool from her floor and said, "No.. I didn't do that, I did this!" and shattered the stool against the wall. He proceeded to do it a couple more times and then turned to walk out of her room.
I was unsure of what to do because now I had a tiger in a room with another tiger and I was afraid one of them was going to kill the other. I went to get the phone to call the police because I can never calm either of these creatures down on my own and I heard Jason say, "See? I can be an idiot and break stuff too. You like how that sounds when I break stuff?!?" She screamed back at him that that's how it was going to sound when his head bounced off her wood floor. I got back to the doorway just in time to see him pick up the leg of the stool and smash it into the top of her karaoke machine, breaking the cd lid off. I stood there holding the phone as he stormed out and downstairs to the garage to cool off. Natasha slammed her door shut and a moment later I heard a crashing sound.
I opened the door and she was sitting on her bed looking at me like she dared me to say a word. I looked around her room to see what could have made that sound and then realized that the karaoke machine was gone. Turns out she had thrown it out her window (thankfully opening the window first). Her bedroom is on the second floor and I looked down at the mess below, thinking in that brief second of quiet how sad it was to see her birthday present shattered in the gravel below like a suicidal robot, it's gut wires hanging out of it's belly. Then tiger dad returned, screaming at her to go pick that mess up and throw it away. She loudly and rudely refused and I proceeded with my 911 call. Things seemed to settle down while we waited for the police to arrive. Natasha swearing to herself in her room that of course I didn't really call the police and what a f#&%&ing idiot I was. Jason retreated to somewhere downstairs in the bowels of the house, probably wondering how this spectacular episode was going to end. There was over two hours between the time the police were called and the time they arrived. Evidently naughty 12 year olds swearing and breaking things are not a high priority to the cops. Go figure.
By the time they arrived Jason had fallen asleep watching t.v. in the family room and while Natasha was still mouthing off, she was doing it in a much more acceptable fashion. No screaming or swearing, just following me around the house and telling me what an idiot and a liar I was and the cops weren't really coming. (I was beginning to wonder myself!) The deputy was very nice and understanding as I talked to her outside first alone. She came in and was wonderfully kind to Natasha, telling her that it sounded like she'd had a big day and that could certainly be overwhelming to spend so much time in counseling etc. She asked her how she felt when she got home and Natasha said she felt relieved and happy because it finally felt like something made sense for the way she's felt her whole life. Then the deputy kindly explained to her that this was going to be a long road ahead but she needed to understand that just because we found a reason she gets so mad, she can't act out against her family like that or she was going to end up in handcuffs. She told Natasha that her bosses boss made the rules that if there is someone hurting someone whether it's a stranger or a family member, they have to take the person who's doing the hurting to jail and they don't have any other options. She wished us good luck and left.
The whole time she was there my lovely daughter was agreeable and attentive to what she was being told. Then about 5 minutes after the deputy left she sat on the kitchen floor and started up again about how I was such an idiot for calling the cops on her because she got mad. My heart sank as I watched Jason come up the stairs, fresh from a nap, to find his child still in mouth-off mode on the floor. He said something about her ipod and told me how I was foolish for bothering the cops with a kid who is just a rude obnoxious little brat. She told him to go ahead and keep her ipod, break it even, she didn't care. He said, "Fine, I will." and she gave him a particularly nasty look and said "Yeah right. Just like you told me last time you were going to break it and you lied about that, dummy." He picked it up and walked into the living room where he proceeded to throw it as hard as he could against the rock fireplace over and over until it shattered. The rest of the evening went on with her calming down and talking to me in a normal tone and then she started sobbing all of a sudden, grieving over her broken stuff.
Her ipod is, was the one thing that seemed to bring her joy and take her mind off things. My mom had been buying her an app or video for every three days that she took her pills without trouble and as she lay on the floor in tears, she asked me what could she ever have that won't get taken away. I, of course, didn't have an answer for her. It seems to be the trend lately, I'm more and more often faced with days when I don't have a clue what to think, do or say. The rest of the night was spent in an anxious semi-panic mode where she was terrified of what she could imagine as dark shadows and didn't want to be alone or go to bed. She finally fell asleep and so did the rest of us.
Sunday was a mixed state of smiles, laughter and anxiety about going to school the next day. I told her that she had taken the last two weeks off from school and if she refused to go this week, she wouldn't go on vacation with us on Friday. She could tell I was serious and became highly agitated that she had to make such a choice. She told me I obviously didn't know anything about her because she was NOT starting to feel better like I had said and now she was going to miss out on our family vacation. (Although why anyone in their right mind would want to go on vacation with us is far beyond me!) She calmed down after a time though and most of the day was fine for her. Her dad and I fought like crazy all day. He has decided he hates me because I think he goes too far and I hate him because I can't hate my child. The usual Sunday-after-Apocalypse behavior. We finally settled everyone down and went to bed only sort of angry.
Natasha woke up this morning, made herself breakfast, took her pills and went off to school with zero problem. It's like I live in an alien world. Nothing makes sense to me. She can be so off one day and then be so fine the next like nothing ever happened. Meanwhile, I have an ulcer, alternate between loving my husband more every day and thinking divorce is the answer and feel like my brain is slowly shrinking and one day I will awake only to realize I am paralyzed and live the rest of my life staring into the distance, drooling as the fighting continues in the background.
So... that sums up the weekend.
After the dentist, Jason took care of Katie at home while I took Natasha to her counseling appointment, which as far as I could tell from the waiting room went fine. Then we were off to meet a new psychiatrist. A psychiatric nurse practitioner to be precise. We made it to the building with little difficulty and Natasha seemed calm enough. Happy even. I can tell that she is on her way out of this cycle. It happens slowly though, with several setbacks. I've learned to recognize the signs and they always follow the same pattern. We sat with the PNP for an hour and a half and she asked a million questions. I was eager to tell her everything I know but it is impossible to describe the details of 12 years in that amount of time. Mid way through the evaluation she said that it didn't really seem like it fit the bipolar description because we weren't really describing periods of depression that followed the extreme anger and rage. I thought about it for a moment and then she went on to describe what the depression can look and sound like. Natasha looked at me with frustration that we hadn't gotten our point across and I told the PNP that she used those exact phrases and behaviors during the later part of the cycle. See... the problem with all of this is that nobody has ever told me what depression can look like in a child and what mania can look like in a child. I describe what she goes through as a "bad time" from start to finish. I always thought mania was crazy, out of control hyper, laughing, happy and delusional. All of these thing Natasha experiences but not in a "too happy" type way or for weeks at a time without stop. She usually starts off wild and angry and crazy and then it turns into "help me!" But.. both are loud and in your face kind of behavior. I assumed depression was laying in bed quietly, not wanting to get up, not wanting to talk. I guess this is why it's taken so long to figure this out. According to the lovely lady we were talking to, depression is not marked by how quiet someone is, it's the phrases they use (i.e. "what's the point in me being alive, I'll never be happy) and behaviors they show no matter how quietly or earshatteringly they are expressed.
So... we walked away from the appointment feeling more sure than ever that this is exactly what she has. At the end of the appointment the PNP seemed to feel the same way. I just feel so mad at myself that I didn't take the time before to document each day! I could have done so much good for my daughter if I had taken the time to keep a journal of some sort. *sigh* I guess that's why it takes an average of ten years to diagnose bipolar disorder in kids. We have another appointment in two weeks only because next weekend we'll be out of town on vacation. She told us that there are a couple choices for medication but mood stabilizers aren't approved for use in kids so it's a touch and go situation and you have to go very slowly. I still haven't told her other psychiatrist that we were going to get a second opinion so now I have to get everyone on the same page.
Anyway, when we got home she seemed ok for an hour or so and then went into a massive rage because we told her that she couldn't go to her grandma's house for the day. She did her usual thing, throwing the world's biggest temper tantrum in the doorway of the kitchen, trapping us all with her and her wild shrieking. I finally had to lift her up from behind by her elbows and take her to her room. She grabs onto door jambs and anything she can to prevent us from removing her from the room and since she weighs over 120lbs now, that task of moving her in itself is mighty. Then I had to stand and hold her doorknob while she tried to rip it open, screaming all the while for me to let her out. I described it once to my mother-in-law as a house cat or a tiger. When she's a cat we can deal with her like a cat, talking to her, hugging her, disciplining her when needed by a stern tone and perhaps taking away her favorite feather toy if she's acting up. And when she does act up, it's typical bad cat behavior. But when she's a tiger we can't talk, we certainly can't touch and a stern tone or removal of toy only serves to anger her more. And bad tiger behavior is really really scary. We have to put her in a safe place and cage her there until she's a cat again. We used to have a lock on her door but now her whole doorjamb is shattered. (By me when I was trying to give her her pills and she was running through the house screaming, ran into her room and slammed to door. I opened it with my foot since my hands were full. Unfortunate choice) Now we can't lock her door or even keep it shut, so my husband came down the hall and we opened her door and stood there looking at the doorjamb to see if he could fix it. She became so enraged that we were standing there together in her space that she began throwing things in our direction like she was a pitcher for the Yankees. Large, heavy things mind you.
This went on for a couple minutes and then she started wailing and scratching at her arms with her fingernails and telling her dad that he was a f$#&ing dumb*$# and to get out of her room.
(Now, to those of you who haven't lived with our daugher, I'm sure this sounds like an easy enough fix. Just walk out and let her vent her anger right? Well, that does NOT work. We've told her that her room is her safe place to explode and if she feels that anger building up she can go in her room and scream or throw things or whatever she needs to do. She won't. Each time she throws a "fit" we tell her to go to her room and that just pushes her even further into fight mode. She will literally follow us around the house doing and saying anything she can to get a reaction. We have spent countless hours of our lives trying the ignore it, do not engage technique and it just ends up lasting much, much longer and ruining everyone's day. Her persistence is so intense, I don't know how many times I've said that if she could channel that fixation into something positive, she could rule the world one day. So for those who don't know us, I know some of the things I put on here may seem like an obvious fix but those fixes have best tested, tried and failed miserably. And not just tested for a week or so, I mean tested long enough for a child to adjust to it as a fact of life.)
Back to the point, my husband has never had much control over his temper and I was amazed at his restraint. She kept it up and he stepped farther into her room and told her that he was going to take her ipod away for one day for each swear word she said. She kept it up and then got on her bed and started throwing things across the room at her wall, making dents in the drywall. He said something about her wall in a semi-calm tone and then she said, "You did that you idiot!" He looked at her and I swear, I literally saw him snap. He picked up a stool from her floor and said, "No.. I didn't do that, I did this!" and shattered the stool against the wall. He proceeded to do it a couple more times and then turned to walk out of her room.
I was unsure of what to do because now I had a tiger in a room with another tiger and I was afraid one of them was going to kill the other. I went to get the phone to call the police because I can never calm either of these creatures down on my own and I heard Jason say, "See? I can be an idiot and break stuff too. You like how that sounds when I break stuff?!?" She screamed back at him that that's how it was going to sound when his head bounced off her wood floor. I got back to the doorway just in time to see him pick up the leg of the stool and smash it into the top of her karaoke machine, breaking the cd lid off. I stood there holding the phone as he stormed out and downstairs to the garage to cool off. Natasha slammed her door shut and a moment later I heard a crashing sound.
I opened the door and she was sitting on her bed looking at me like she dared me to say a word. I looked around her room to see what could have made that sound and then realized that the karaoke machine was gone. Turns out she had thrown it out her window (thankfully opening the window first). Her bedroom is on the second floor and I looked down at the mess below, thinking in that brief second of quiet how sad it was to see her birthday present shattered in the gravel below like a suicidal robot, it's gut wires hanging out of it's belly. Then tiger dad returned, screaming at her to go pick that mess up and throw it away. She loudly and rudely refused and I proceeded with my 911 call. Things seemed to settle down while we waited for the police to arrive. Natasha swearing to herself in her room that of course I didn't really call the police and what a f#&%&ing idiot I was. Jason retreated to somewhere downstairs in the bowels of the house, probably wondering how this spectacular episode was going to end. There was over two hours between the time the police were called and the time they arrived. Evidently naughty 12 year olds swearing and breaking things are not a high priority to the cops. Go figure.
By the time they arrived Jason had fallen asleep watching t.v. in the family room and while Natasha was still mouthing off, she was doing it in a much more acceptable fashion. No screaming or swearing, just following me around the house and telling me what an idiot and a liar I was and the cops weren't really coming. (I was beginning to wonder myself!) The deputy was very nice and understanding as I talked to her outside first alone. She came in and was wonderfully kind to Natasha, telling her that it sounded like she'd had a big day and that could certainly be overwhelming to spend so much time in counseling etc. She asked her how she felt when she got home and Natasha said she felt relieved and happy because it finally felt like something made sense for the way she's felt her whole life. Then the deputy kindly explained to her that this was going to be a long road ahead but she needed to understand that just because we found a reason she gets so mad, she can't act out against her family like that or she was going to end up in handcuffs. She told Natasha that her bosses boss made the rules that if there is someone hurting someone whether it's a stranger or a family member, they have to take the person who's doing the hurting to jail and they don't have any other options. She wished us good luck and left.
The whole time she was there my lovely daughter was agreeable and attentive to what she was being told. Then about 5 minutes after the deputy left she sat on the kitchen floor and started up again about how I was such an idiot for calling the cops on her because she got mad. My heart sank as I watched Jason come up the stairs, fresh from a nap, to find his child still in mouth-off mode on the floor. He said something about her ipod and told me how I was foolish for bothering the cops with a kid who is just a rude obnoxious little brat. She told him to go ahead and keep her ipod, break it even, she didn't care. He said, "Fine, I will." and she gave him a particularly nasty look and said "Yeah right. Just like you told me last time you were going to break it and you lied about that, dummy." He picked it up and walked into the living room where he proceeded to throw it as hard as he could against the rock fireplace over and over until it shattered. The rest of the evening went on with her calming down and talking to me in a normal tone and then she started sobbing all of a sudden, grieving over her broken stuff.
Her ipod is, was the one thing that seemed to bring her joy and take her mind off things. My mom had been buying her an app or video for every three days that she took her pills without trouble and as she lay on the floor in tears, she asked me what could she ever have that won't get taken away. I, of course, didn't have an answer for her. It seems to be the trend lately, I'm more and more often faced with days when I don't have a clue what to think, do or say. The rest of the night was spent in an anxious semi-panic mode where she was terrified of what she could imagine as dark shadows and didn't want to be alone or go to bed. She finally fell asleep and so did the rest of us.
Sunday was a mixed state of smiles, laughter and anxiety about going to school the next day. I told her that she had taken the last two weeks off from school and if she refused to go this week, she wouldn't go on vacation with us on Friday. She could tell I was serious and became highly agitated that she had to make such a choice. She told me I obviously didn't know anything about her because she was NOT starting to feel better like I had said and now she was going to miss out on our family vacation. (Although why anyone in their right mind would want to go on vacation with us is far beyond me!) She calmed down after a time though and most of the day was fine for her. Her dad and I fought like crazy all day. He has decided he hates me because I think he goes too far and I hate him because I can't hate my child. The usual Sunday-after-Apocalypse behavior. We finally settled everyone down and went to bed only sort of angry.
Natasha woke up this morning, made herself breakfast, took her pills and went off to school with zero problem. It's like I live in an alien world. Nothing makes sense to me. She can be so off one day and then be so fine the next like nothing ever happened. Meanwhile, I have an ulcer, alternate between loving my husband more every day and thinking divorce is the answer and feel like my brain is slowly shrinking and one day I will awake only to realize I am paralyzed and live the rest of my life staring into the distance, drooling as the fighting continues in the background.
So... that sums up the weekend.
Years One thru Four
I've decided to start this blog since my daughter's counselor suggested I keep notes and a timeline of everything. So today will begin with what I know so far. My oldest daughter Natasha was born in 1999. I was 19 years old, had been married for 6 months and clean and sober for 8 months after a 2 year drug binge that included meth, cocaine, crack and heroin among various other pills and drinking. When Jason and I found out I was pregnant I immediately quit that lifestyle but was really worried that my all too recent past would effect my unborn baby in some awful way.
Natasha was a difficult child from the beginning. She was incredibly hard to get down for naps and at bedtime. I would walk her around while she cried for hours every night before she would finally go to sleep. I was completely exhausted but at the time I figured she was just a fussy baby. As she grew she developed "ahead of the class", crawling, walking and talking well before the average age. She was a beautiful, smart and unhappy little girl. Somewhere between her 1st and 2nd birthdays I started noticing distinct patterns in her happy and fussy times. She would be calm and cheerful for weeks and then something would happen and she would spiral into tantrums and "fits" that would define her behavior for weeks and months at a time. Then as suddenly as the storm came, it would pass. We would always think it was some new parenting technique or discipline we were using.
When she was 2, I talked to her pediatrician about her patterns, worried that it had something to do with my drug use during the first four weeks of pregnancy and he told me (for the 100th time) that she showed no signs of any trouble related to maternal drug use and that it sounded like Pediatric Bipolar Disorder. I remember he had returned my call when I was in my car in a parking lot and for some reason I distinctly remember the light pole I was looking at as I tried to swallow what he had just told me. Our conversation frustrated me at the time because he didn't have much help to give and said to keep an eye on it. He did refer me to something called the Valley Intervention Program that he thought might be of help.
We entered the program which was intended to teach parents how to handle unruly and difficult children and use correct discipline. The basic idea of the class is to say something once and then completely disengage from your child until they complete the task you told them to do. For example, tell the kids it's story time and to sit on the carpet, legs crossed. Those who are sitting quietly get stickers or m&m's and those who are not get completely ignored. Sounds simple but it was definitely harder to follow through with than one might imagine. I think it was a good experience but even there they noticed something different about Natasha. They asked my permission to put us in a room with a one-way mirror and video tape our interactions. I had a microphone and earpiece and they would guide me through situations with her. I spent what felt like hours staring intently at the wall waiting for her to stop screaming about one thing or another. I remember one day during this observation time that she began hitting and scratching at me because I wouldn't answer her for the second time about something. The counselors running the class told me to stand with my face in the corner so she couldn't see me. That felt odd. She was freaking out and Mommy was in the corner.
We were in that class for a few months and Natasha really started to calm down again. We graduated, got a little certificate of achievement for all our hard work and as we went home from our last class, I felt good to know that I was now "trained" in awesome parenting, armed with all the knowledge I needed on how to discipline my lovely daughter in an effective way. We had a couple nice months of normalcy before the tantrums hit yet again.
I remember looking up information on Bipolar Disorder when her MD mentioned it and thinking that didn't fit what was going on. She was never really hyper or "manic" so to speak, and she never really had periods of what I would consider sadness really either. She would just go through periods of intense whining, anger, persistence and clinginess where she would cry all the time. She would get really super sensitive to heat and noise and her clothes would irritate her skin beyond belief. I remember my mom was taking care of her when I was a work and along with the extreme separation anxiety she would show when I left for work, (sobbing and trying to break down the door to follow me down the road as I drove away - kind of extreme), she would tell me horror stories of trying to get Natasha dressed. It was the same way at home. She'd have her clothes on for 30 seconds before ripping them off and melting into a screaming puddle of tears on the floor. Then if we tried to help her get dressed she would get as stiff as a board and shriek like we were skinning her alive. Leaving the house to go anywhere was often an insurmountable task.
Bedtime was still a nightmare too. She would refuse to go to bed and when I tried to carry her back to bed at night she would scream and rip chunks of my hair out. There were many many nights I spent sitting against her door, holding the door shut until she would finally pass out on the floor from exhaustion. She used to scream so loud and hard she would start throwing up. And potty training.... that was one of the hardest times I have ever lived through. Natasha would have night terrors every single night about toilets. Horrible dreams that she would wake up from screaming at the top of her lungs, covered in sweat and shaking like a leaf. We had to take her to the Dr. several times during the potty training months because she would refuse to go. The longest she ever went without using the toilet was 8 days. I remember my mom came over that evening to help me and and I was in tears on the phone with the pediatrician. He told me to go buy an suppository and then instructed me on how to use it with her and said if it didn't work, she would have to be hospitalized. My mother and I were both sobbing as we held my screaming daughter down and performed what felt like sodomy on my terrified baby girl.
All of these episodes would last for a couple months or so and then she would morph once again into a "normal" little girl. I remember during one such bad time that she refused to go to bed and I was so tired that I told her she could come to bed with me and watch t.v. if she would just let me sleep. She was still jumping on my bed, screaming, at 4a.m. and I finally called my mom and dad to come get her because I had to go to work the next day. We couldn't get her into any clothes so I remember my father wrapping her in a blanket and carrying her, screaming and fighting like a wild animal, down the apartment stairs to their car. I had giving her Benadryl earlier that day for a stuffy nose and I thought she must be having a weird reaction to the medication. That's how it was for years. Every time she would start to go through a hard time again I would wrack my brain thinking of all the possible causes. We tried eliminating sugar, dairy, wheat, I watched countless episodes of Supernanny and Nanny 911 to see if new techniques would work.
She was so beautiful and so intensely smart that I didn't really think it was any type of mental illness. But something, on some level, was clearly wrong and it was causing her to act like this. If you've ever seen a horse get spooked by something nobody else sees, that's the best way I can describe it. She would be find and calm until something unknown to the rest of the world set her off and she would buck, kick and transform into a frothy mess for a period of time until she settled down again. And every time we saw her start to calm down we thought we had finally figured it out. Whatever technique or thing we were doing at the time seemed to be working and we would continue with it until the next storm would hit.
It's so weird to write about this now because when we were living it, months at a time, I guess we somehow adjusted to this as normal. Looking back though, it reminds me of how much we've gone through and how hard it's been. I suppose over the years I just followed the ups and downs. Enjoying the good times and believing the worst was over until the next time came and then we would begin our search for answers yet again. I began to avoid talking to other parents about it, even my own husband because the seeming general consensus was that I was a very inconsistent mom who was exaggerating the turmoils of a spoiled child. Few people have ever seen or understood what I see. She hides the broken part from the world and has only ever revealed it to a handful of people. Those people know. My parents, my in-laws, two of my best friends... My husband has seen it all, of course but he's had a hard time accepting that this isn't fixable. Over the past few years though, he is coming to understand that the "something" that is wrong is bigger than even he can tame.
Natasha was a difficult child from the beginning. She was incredibly hard to get down for naps and at bedtime. I would walk her around while she cried for hours every night before she would finally go to sleep. I was completely exhausted but at the time I figured she was just a fussy baby. As she grew she developed "ahead of the class", crawling, walking and talking well before the average age. She was a beautiful, smart and unhappy little girl. Somewhere between her 1st and 2nd birthdays I started noticing distinct patterns in her happy and fussy times. She would be calm and cheerful for weeks and then something would happen and she would spiral into tantrums and "fits" that would define her behavior for weeks and months at a time. Then as suddenly as the storm came, it would pass. We would always think it was some new parenting technique or discipline we were using.
When she was 2, I talked to her pediatrician about her patterns, worried that it had something to do with my drug use during the first four weeks of pregnancy and he told me (for the 100th time) that she showed no signs of any trouble related to maternal drug use and that it sounded like Pediatric Bipolar Disorder. I remember he had returned my call when I was in my car in a parking lot and for some reason I distinctly remember the light pole I was looking at as I tried to swallow what he had just told me. Our conversation frustrated me at the time because he didn't have much help to give and said to keep an eye on it. He did refer me to something called the Valley Intervention Program that he thought might be of help.
We entered the program which was intended to teach parents how to handle unruly and difficult children and use correct discipline. The basic idea of the class is to say something once and then completely disengage from your child until they complete the task you told them to do. For example, tell the kids it's story time and to sit on the carpet, legs crossed. Those who are sitting quietly get stickers or m&m's and those who are not get completely ignored. Sounds simple but it was definitely harder to follow through with than one might imagine. I think it was a good experience but even there they noticed something different about Natasha. They asked my permission to put us in a room with a one-way mirror and video tape our interactions. I had a microphone and earpiece and they would guide me through situations with her. I spent what felt like hours staring intently at the wall waiting for her to stop screaming about one thing or another. I remember one day during this observation time that she began hitting and scratching at me because I wouldn't answer her for the second time about something. The counselors running the class told me to stand with my face in the corner so she couldn't see me. That felt odd. She was freaking out and Mommy was in the corner.
We were in that class for a few months and Natasha really started to calm down again. We graduated, got a little certificate of achievement for all our hard work and as we went home from our last class, I felt good to know that I was now "trained" in awesome parenting, armed with all the knowledge I needed on how to discipline my lovely daughter in an effective way. We had a couple nice months of normalcy before the tantrums hit yet again.
I remember looking up information on Bipolar Disorder when her MD mentioned it and thinking that didn't fit what was going on. She was never really hyper or "manic" so to speak, and she never really had periods of what I would consider sadness really either. She would just go through periods of intense whining, anger, persistence and clinginess where she would cry all the time. She would get really super sensitive to heat and noise and her clothes would irritate her skin beyond belief. I remember my mom was taking care of her when I was a work and along with the extreme separation anxiety she would show when I left for work, (sobbing and trying to break down the door to follow me down the road as I drove away - kind of extreme), she would tell me horror stories of trying to get Natasha dressed. It was the same way at home. She'd have her clothes on for 30 seconds before ripping them off and melting into a screaming puddle of tears on the floor. Then if we tried to help her get dressed she would get as stiff as a board and shriek like we were skinning her alive. Leaving the house to go anywhere was often an insurmountable task.
Bedtime was still a nightmare too. She would refuse to go to bed and when I tried to carry her back to bed at night she would scream and rip chunks of my hair out. There were many many nights I spent sitting against her door, holding the door shut until she would finally pass out on the floor from exhaustion. She used to scream so loud and hard she would start throwing up. And potty training.... that was one of the hardest times I have ever lived through. Natasha would have night terrors every single night about toilets. Horrible dreams that she would wake up from screaming at the top of her lungs, covered in sweat and shaking like a leaf. We had to take her to the Dr. several times during the potty training months because she would refuse to go. The longest she ever went without using the toilet was 8 days. I remember my mom came over that evening to help me and and I was in tears on the phone with the pediatrician. He told me to go buy an suppository and then instructed me on how to use it with her and said if it didn't work, she would have to be hospitalized. My mother and I were both sobbing as we held my screaming daughter down and performed what felt like sodomy on my terrified baby girl.
All of these episodes would last for a couple months or so and then she would morph once again into a "normal" little girl. I remember during one such bad time that she refused to go to bed and I was so tired that I told her she could come to bed with me and watch t.v. if she would just let me sleep. She was still jumping on my bed, screaming, at 4a.m. and I finally called my mom and dad to come get her because I had to go to work the next day. We couldn't get her into any clothes so I remember my father wrapping her in a blanket and carrying her, screaming and fighting like a wild animal, down the apartment stairs to their car. I had giving her Benadryl earlier that day for a stuffy nose and I thought she must be having a weird reaction to the medication. That's how it was for years. Every time she would start to go through a hard time again I would wrack my brain thinking of all the possible causes. We tried eliminating sugar, dairy, wheat, I watched countless episodes of Supernanny and Nanny 911 to see if new techniques would work.
She was so beautiful and so intensely smart that I didn't really think it was any type of mental illness. But something, on some level, was clearly wrong and it was causing her to act like this. If you've ever seen a horse get spooked by something nobody else sees, that's the best way I can describe it. She would be find and calm until something unknown to the rest of the world set her off and she would buck, kick and transform into a frothy mess for a period of time until she settled down again. And every time we saw her start to calm down we thought we had finally figured it out. Whatever technique or thing we were doing at the time seemed to be working and we would continue with it until the next storm would hit.
It's so weird to write about this now because when we were living it, months at a time, I guess we somehow adjusted to this as normal. Looking back though, it reminds me of how much we've gone through and how hard it's been. I suppose over the years I just followed the ups and downs. Enjoying the good times and believing the worst was over until the next time came and then we would begin our search for answers yet again. I began to avoid talking to other parents about it, even my own husband because the seeming general consensus was that I was a very inconsistent mom who was exaggerating the turmoils of a spoiled child. Few people have ever seen or understood what I see. She hides the broken part from the world and has only ever revealed it to a handful of people. Those people know. My parents, my in-laws, two of my best friends... My husband has seen it all, of course but he's had a hard time accepting that this isn't fixable. Over the past few years though, he is coming to understand that the "something" that is wrong is bigger than even he can tame.
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