RealMental

318/365 – My body is a crime scene., originally uploaded by _mandrew_.

she said …, originally uploaded by Eric Clipperton.

Today is Tuesday, March 16.  The day started fairly mildly- no one wanted to wake up, but we managed to get awake and fed and medicated at something approximating “on time.”  One year ago today, I think the day started just as mildly, but it didn’t stay that way.

By 10:30 a.m. on March 16, 2009, Hoss had run far enough away from the school building to have needed the police to be called.  His escaping behaviors and his total lack of understanding as to the reasons why I worried had become more than I could handle.  By noon, I had picked him up from the school and was on my way to take him to the emergency room to request a psychiatric consultation and recommendation for admittance for an inpatient evaluation.  The school counselor followed me to the hospital (regulations prohibited her from driving us herself) and, with the full support of the administration, she stayed with me for four and a half hours as we met with doctors and nurses and explained Hoss’ outbursts and his behaviors in which he put himself in harm’s way.  After the counselor left, I spent a few hours with Hoss in the psychiatric wing of the hospital as we waited for paperwork and transport to the child and adolescent unit at Sheppard Pratt.  My husband came by and stayed with us until after dinner and followed us to the pscyh hospital.  My mom spent the night in Hoss’ bed, since it was nearly midnight when we returned home, and I didn’t want a tired, worried grandmother on the road.

I am sure Hoss has no memory of the date, and only hazy memories of what happened that day.  But it is going to eat at me all day long.  He’s come so far in the past year, but we’ve had some bumps of late and I fear for what they mean.  His regular monthly appointment with his doctor is tomorrow, and it may be time to adjust medications to account for his growing system.  I have learned so much about pediatric mood disorders in the past year, and yet I have so very much that I still don’t understand and that I can’t handle.  I have a lot of years ahead of us that I need to deal with.

I want to …, originally uploaded by Eric Clipperton.

Uterus contracting, feels like it will fall out.

With each contraction a sad reminder that even more eggs are escaping, never to be developed into another human.

Heart sad, heart broken, had to put my best friend to sleep.

He served me well, watched over me and bit the ones that needed to be bitten.

Machines are breaking, money needed to fix, money not available.

Life goes on, churning each day running to the next.

People smiling to cover their sickness, people laughing when they should be crying.

Pretending to be something they aren’t, rotting corpses behind their smiles.

I need a break, a break from it all to remember who i was before i fell.

Fell a long way, deep down into the hole of what I thought was the “right things to do” drain.  i knew better, yes I did.

Roads less traveled are not for the weary, the weak or the frail.  I chose this road.  Knowing, it would throw me out of my glass house.

Windows are broken, blood spattered on the walls, water damage from the tears, backing up in the pipes and threatening an explosion of epic damages.

Life is what this is.

Life.

Mental illness is what I have; seen as a disability, maybe it’s just the way some of us are.   The way squirrels are nervous.

Some choose not to be here, some choose to leave early, some walk with me shadowed by their own distractions of their own path.

Grateful to feel, grateful to live, grateful for the opportunity.

All that appears to be “in the way”; simply the scenic route.

Lessons to be learned, beauty to be admired, love to be tasted.

Above all, I must remember.

This.

This, is a life NOT wasted and there are no magic answers.

trapped, originally uploaded by pictures and stuffs.

barry , originally uploaded by ali bishop.