What's Best for Them

As parents, we are faced with choices every single day. More often than not, they are not life-altering choices, but sometimes we are faced with big, bad, ugly ones.

It has been just over a year since my family lost health insurance benefits. We shopped around for a private plan, but with my daughter's pre-existing conditions, affordable health care was impossible to find. 

With a premium slightly higher than a monthly mortgage payment, a $5000 per person deductible, and then only having 80/20 coverage, we made a decision as a family to self-insure.

When you have a child who is dependent on meds to function in her daily life, a decision like this is life-altering. Even if we did buy private health insurance, we still would not have been able to afford her nearly $800 per month prescription drug regimen.

Having tried seemingly every med available to treat my daughter's diagnoses, I knew that every medication came with its side effects. Her current regimen was not excluded. I had always struggled with raising my daughter to be dependent on prescriptions to function. While I know that many mental health conditions require prescriptions for relief, my daughter's doctors always seemed to be playing a guessing game when it came to treating her. 

The decision to quit her meds was painstaking. I had so many questions. What if affects her academically? Socially? Emotionally? What if her symptoms or behaviors worsen?

I spent countless hours scouring books and the internet for alternative treatments for her disorders. I talked to everyone I knew with experience in holistic health care, mood disorders, and ADHD. And finally I felt like I had heard enough.

My daughter is no stranger to in-patient mental health care. As I reflected back to the episodes that put her in the hospital, I could track each hospitalization back to a med change. I was done playing pharmaceutical roulette.

For the last year we have been treating my daughter's disorders with diet, supplements, and chiropractic care. 

Sure, we've run into road blocks along the way.

She likes to complain about the size of her fish oil pills; many days she flat out refuses to take them. 

I'm told with regularity that I'm torturing her because I "make her eat gluten-free", and in case you didn't know - it's in humane to not allow my kids highly processed foods.

Reading labels can be a raging pain in the arse, and definitely adds time to the grocery trip. Fortunately my husband and I do most of the shopping together. And being able to look ingredients up on my phone as needed helps, too!

There have been so many changes in my home over the last year. All of them good. I feel really good about the changes in the way I feed and nourish my family.

My daughter is thriving socially, and she gaining ground academically. Over all, I feel really good about the choice to cut out her meds. Granted, this is not the best option for all families living with behavioral and mental health issues, but it has been a great move for our family.

Have you ever made a radical decision that brought on significant changes in your family?

I'm linking up today with my old friend Shell for Pour Your Heart Out.

My Dirty Little Secret

I read a quote recently that went like this ~



Source



Per my recent norm, it made me stop and evaluate some things in my life.

It also made me want to come clean. You see, I have a confession to make.

Over the years I have talked freely about the mental illness that took my husband's life almost 11 years ago.

I have made it no secret that my precious daughter struggles daily with several different mental health diagnoses.

I have even mentioned that my know-it-all son is afflilcted with ADHD.

However, my friends, I have never once opened up to you about me...

I've never once told you about the days on end I have spent holed up in my bedroom - until my best friend literally dragged me out and forced me to shower.

I have never shared with you my frequent bouts with self-loathing, my sometimes suicidal ideations, and thoughts of what a better place the world would be in my absence.

I can't think of a single time I have mentioned my nights in the ER because the tightness and pain in my chest was so horrible, I thought I was dying. In reality I was sufferin massive panic attacks.

I don't talk about these things because I'm ashamed. For so long I have had to hold it together for the benefit of my kids. I tell myself, they didn't choose to be born into an only parent household. They deserve a chance at a normal childhood. They need a mom who has it all together.

So I put on the mask of resilience, and I forge through each day playing the part of the mom I think my kids deserve and the part of the woman I think everyone expects me to be.

But sometimes the mask suffocates, and sometimes the part is lacking a good script. It's in those times I feel my world caving in around me. I fear that I will be discovered. That my secret will get out. That someone will know that I am far from the emotionally and mentally stable person I portray myself to be, that I'm a fraud. I fear that someone will sweep in and take my kids from me, declaring me unfit to give them their best chance.

So I cry it out. I have my panic attacks. I withdraw from the world for a little while. And I regroup.

And after the intermission, I begin the next act.

But I can't keep the secret anymore. The pain in my chest comes more frequently these days. My temper is shorter. I find satisfaction in things - simple or grand - less and less. I am beginning to realize that despite my greatest performances, I am not Super Woman. I can't fight the evil wizard, slay the dragon, and rescue the princess all by myself.

Depression is an ugly disease that causes you to believe you are less than you are. It convinces you that you deserve less than the joy God intended for you.

I have been fighting it alone for years, unbeknownst to my children, my parents, my family, and many of my close friends. But I refuse to let it steal any more life from me. I have decided it is time to face this demon head on, to fight it, and to win, so that I am able to give my kids their best chance. And so I can finally have mine.

Life Just Works Itself Out

Today I am linking up with my long, lost friend Shell and pouring my heart out.

Be sure to swing on by there and check out the other posts when you're done here!

Life has a funny way of working itself out.

Based on some comments I have received recently, it would appear as though I have been a bit criptic recently.

You see, I have spent the last two years blogging as an only parent. As a widow, I have never had someone to co-parent with. I have dated on and off over the last ten years. I have even had a few serious relationships. One upon a time, I was even planning to be remarried...

To this guy...

I met him that summer. He was home for summer break, just recently turned 21... I was 28...and his boss' boss. Needless to say, our interest in one another was a bit taboo.

He went back to college that fall, and once he was gone, we realized we didn't want to be apart. That was the beginning of us.

He was a college senior 2 hours away, and I was an only parent of a 1st and 2nd grader.

Our friends didn't understand what we could possibly have in common, and no one thought we would last.

After graduating college, he had plans to go to culinary school - in New York. The thought of being so far apart for two more years was awful. However, I knew - even though he considered not going - if he didn't go so he could stay here with me and the kids, he may some day regret it.

I had given up so much in my life to be married young and have my children. There was no way I could let him give up his dream.

So he went.

And we were apart.

It was difficult, but our long, nightly phone calls kept us close. We knew that despite the distance, we wanted to be together. Our plans included him finishing culinary school and us eventually being married...

But as I said - not everyone understood what we could possibly have in common.

His parents were adamant that he and I were not to be married. They threatened to disown him, to cut him off. I was torn. His family meant so much to him. I couldn't put him in a position to have to pick between them or me.

So we split up.

It was heart wrenching, but seemingly necessary.

We spent the last three years in different states. We dated other people, pursued happiness independently.

But we were still best friends.

At the beginning of this summer, we both found ourselves single again.

It was clear, as we talked, that we still cared very much for one another.

We decided that three years apart were three years too many.

Without much planning, he gave notice at his job, packed up his apartment, and came back home.

He moved in on September 11.

It's amazing how well you know someone after 5 years.

It's amazing how right it feels to have him here.

And although I will always be an only parent, it is amazing how much easier life is with a partner.



Deliverance

Today I am linking up with my dear friend Shell

at Things I Can't Say...

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Raising a child with special needs is challenging.

Raising a child with special needs alone? Exhausting.

Ahna has always been a difficult child. Even prenatal.

As she grows, her condition and state of mind ebb and flow, seemingly like the tide. On the outside people see a beautiful, funny, engaging, and confident little girl. It is clear that she is independent and headstrong. Her special needs are disguised deep within.

As you take the time to get to know her, you will learn she is indeed engaging. She is bold and witty, funny and brave. But she is also anxious, insecure, afraid, and overwhelmed. 

She is a verbose child who struggles to find the right words. Her temper flares quickly like a match, and instead of identifying what she needs, her words scathe and injure those in her path.

I watch her struggle day in and day out - trying to be the person she thinks the world wants her to be. Trying to fit the mold of the happy American girl. My heart breaks into pieces for this amazing child, a child who has never known a day of peace. A child who has lived every day of her 11 years with mental illness that remains unnamed.

ADHD

ODD

Mood Disorder - Non-Specific

Is it RAD? Is is Asberger's? Could she be bipolar? Has she been exposed to lead?

In the last 9 years she has seen 7 different therapists, been admitted to 2 out patient programs, and has been to in patient care 3 times. 

She has been on 32 different medications at different times, trying to find one that helps the symptoms with which she struggles. 

In the 2+ years she has worked with her current in-home therapist, she has never achieved a treatment goal.

Yesterday I learned that a residential facility she has been on a waiting list for has a place opening up September 1. All I have to do is call the county and get her a case worker. 

I don't think I can do it. 

I don't think I can send her.

How do I pack up my baby girl and send her to live in a facility 3 hours away?

How do I tell her that Mommy just doesn't know what to do anymore? Mommy doesn't know how to help her anymore...

I pray that there is another option. I pray that her latest psych eval will come back with more concrete results. I pray that we can write a treatment plan that isn't just another shot in the dark.

I pray that she know just how badly I want to see her happy.

My gut says to turn the placement down. But I'm really not sure if it is my gut or my conscience....

Moles and Mortality

Today I am linking up with my dear friend Shell

at Things I Can't Say...

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Being a parent comes with a lot of worries.

Are they happy? Are they healthy? Do they have enough friends? Are they good friends? Are they involved enough? Are they involved in too much? Are they eating right? Did they remember the sunscreen? Will they look both ways crossing the street even if I'm not there to make sure?

Even if I'm not there to make sure...

Being an only parent, I am constantly aware of the fact that without me, my children are orphans.

I haven't been on a motorcycle in over 10 years. I'd love to try skydiving - but I won't. Hot air balloons? Out of the question. There are so many "thrill-seeking" activities I would like to try, but don't.

I realize that when it is my time, it is my time. There is not a whole lot I can do about it. But minimizing my risks makes me feel better...

I was recently inspired to schedule a routine exam with a dermatologist to have my moles looked at.

That day, in the office, the doctor removed three.

Three suspicious black dots.

To be biopsied.

Biopsy is a scary word. It doesn't matter who you are, or your life's circumstances. The word biopsy always comes with the unspoken word cancer.

As I wait to hear back from the doctor, I force myself to not read about skin cancer. I refuse to search melanoma and the other less scary words associated with skin cancer.

I don't want to freak myself out.

But all I've been thinking about since the moles were removed is, "What if?"

What if it is cancer? What if it's the bad cancer? (Not that there are any good cancers...) What if I'm really sick? What if treatment makes me really sick? What if I can't work? Can't take care of my home? Can't take care of my pets? Can't take care of my kids?

What if I die?

As much as the thought of not seeing them grow into adulthood pains me, I am more scared about what losing both parents would do to them. Who would raise them? Would they turn out alright? What kind of lives would they have?

As I sit here and wait, these thoughts torment my mind.

I pray that all is well. I pray that the suspicious black spots are nothing more than incredibly dark spots. I pray that my kids and I - regardless of how crazy they make me and I make them - have many decades left to make each other nuts.

More than I pray for my health, I pray for their well-being. I pray that they don't have to lose another parent. I pray that the Lord's plan is for me to be around for them, to see them graduate, got to college, get married, and have babies...

I know that people have moles removed every day... I realize that there is a good chance I am over-reacting... But these are the thoughts that have been consuming my mind.

Finding Our Way

Today I am linking up with my friend Shell at Things I Can't Say.

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Wandering.

Aimlessly and unconsciously, my mind is always wandering.

Ideas spring into my head, and as quickly as they appear - they're gone.

There are many things I'd like to say. The thoughts just don't translate to words.

Constant questioning about my life and its happenings have me cautious about what I share.

If I breathe too deeply or exhale too long, my ex-boyfriend seems to know about it.

My daughter has been especially unsafe of late.

I worry about her aggression toward her brother. I worry about her aggression toward me.

I pray continuously that her illness stops tearing at the core of my family.

I pray that the damage done is not irreparable - for any of us.

As much as I long to, I cannot bury my head in the sand.

As much as it calls to me, I cannot spend my days hidden in the safety of my bed.

Some days I see glimmers. Other days I see giant rays. I know things are headed in the right direction.

I have hope. I have faith.

Finding the strength to fight through, finding the courage to share - these are my struggles.

I know that together and with God, we will find our way.

Helping Her Through

Today I am linking up with my friend Shell at Things I Can't Say.

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Her screams rip through my ears.

"I hate you! I hate you! My life is Hell and I ruined your life!"

I want to hold her. I want to wipe her tears.

Instead, I dodge a shoe.

"You wish I was dead! You wish I was never born!"

I want her know know that she is an amazing gift. I want her to know that I am thankful for every day I have with her.

Instead, I dodge a photo album.

Blankets are ripped off the back of the couch and thrown across the room.

Homework and artwork are torn to shreds at her feet.

I dodge ceramic coasters.

The surface of the coffee table is wiped clean by an angry arm. Everything is on the floor.

My daughter lies in a sobbing heap on top of it.

She is still screaming, but the words are intelligible.

I am waiting.

Waiting for her to reach out to me.

Waiting for her to be ready to be consoled.

Until then, all I can do is watch.

"Mommy!!!" she finally cries out.

"Mommy! I love you!"

Her body is shaking as the tears stream down her face.

I take her into my arms and she crawls into my lap. Her breaths are shallow. Her voice is weary.

"I'm sorry, Mommy. I love you. Please love me, Mommy. Please."

Now is my chance. I reassure her...

"I love you, baby girl, with every ounce of my being."

I rub her back. I brush her hair from her face, wiping away her tears.

And we rock....

From Son Up 'Til Son Down... And Then Some

 

This week I am linking up with my dear friend Shell at Things I Can't Say.

For more information on how you can Pour Your Heart Out,

click HERE.

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Life is a juggling act.

Every morning I grudgingly pull myself from bed to wake my son from his peaceful slumber. That's really the only peaceful thing he does these days.

From there I listen to him complain. He complains about his school uniform, packing a lunch, his new Doc Martens that he had to have. He complains on the way to the bus about his bus ride, about his teachers, and about his school. Then he complains that I will be at work when he arrives home.

It seems as though at 12, my once thoughtful and considerate son has forgotten about anyone but himself.

He neglects to realize that from dropping him off, I head to work. He doesn't consider that I am learning a new job. It escapes him that I have spent the last three weeks deciding where to send his sister for the rest of the school year. It doesn't concern him that I am distraught by his suffering grades or his extreme negativity. He completely forgets that I am also bearing the weight of a full college course load.

As I arrive home in the evening, my hopes of enjoying our newly found family time come crashing down as his complaining begins again. There is nothing to eat (nothing meaning he didn't want to take the time to make himself a snack). He has too much homework. His sister is wearing his sweatshirt. Why won't I let him have his XBox back?

I feed them dinner, get chores and extra-curriculars out of the way, and sit down to breathe and begin my own schoolwork. Only I don't get the opportunity to get much done. I am endlessly interrupted by him wanting help folding his laundry. He wants to express his frustration with having to clean up after our pets. Oh! And could I please give him a tummy rub? It will only take a minute.

Finally, after both of the kids are tucked in for the night, I get the chance to catch up on the things I have left to do. I can do my schoolwork. I am able to catch up on laundry. I even have a little bit of time to say hello to you.

At an hour entirely to late to think about, I finally lay my weary head down for the night. I pray to the Lord for the strength and energy to do it all again the next day. Oh! And that my son broadens his world view.

Spending the Week at Grandma's - Pour Your Heart Out

Today I am linking up with my very dear friend Shell at Things I Can't Say.

Hop on over and check out her Pour Your Heart Out feature!

Maybe you may have a tale of your own to link!

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I sat here staring at my reader.

"1000+ Unread" screamed at me from the upper left hand corner.

I have been away, without internet for a week. The bathrooms of my grandma's home were in serious need of some TLC. The rest of the house needed tons some attention, too.

You would think a week away in a warmer climate with no children would be relaxing. Revitalizing. Renewing. In an ideal situation, it would be.

I began each day driving to the nearest Starbucks so I would be able to complete my school work for the day. Rememer? I went back to college in January? The first two hours of my day were automatically consumed by reading and class discussion. Granted, I could have waited until later in the day to complete the work, but I knew that if I put it off, there was a good chance I wouldn't get it done.

Each day, after completing my school work, my schedule varied a bit. Some days I had lunch with my mother. Some were spent tearing down wallpaper, repapering, painting, or cleaning. Many days found me at the local Goodwill dropping of items my grandma would no longer need. Most days I visited my grandma.

One thing I have always enjoyed about my grandparents was their amazing senses of humor. In my life time, I have spent countless hours laughing with each of my grandparents.

Years ago, my grandma was nicknamed Nutty Monkey. We always joked that "Lou! Lou! Lou!" was her animal call. Lou was my grandpa.

She enjoyed riding her bike in the summer. She had a stationary bike in the basement for the days that were too cold to ride outside. She was afraid of the water and of flying. She had difficulty going to the store alone - because she never remembered where she parked the car. My grandma was an avid painter of landscapes. The paintings were always lovingly framed by my grandpa and hung around their home.

She and my grandpa had a huge backyard with tons of trees. There were dozens of birds and squirrels that lived in their yard. Each of the squirrels were named after one of the 10 grandkids.

Today, my grandma doesn't remember she has 10 grandkids. She barely remembers her kids. Bike riding is out of the question. She has difficulty even walking. She no longer paints. She can't even color in a coloring book. Today, Grandma doesn't even feed herself.

Since October, I, my brother, and my aunt have taken over paying for my grandma's home. In January, my aunt, my cousin, and I drove to Florida to go through Grandma's things and bring home what we thought would be best divided among the grandkids. Last week, I cleaned out what reamined of her belongings.

Through it all, I have held it together. I comforted my aunt when she cried. I fed my grandma because she couldn't. I read her favorite Bible passages to her. I brought her candy. I held her hand.

On Sunday, hours before heading to the airport, I stopped by the Goodwill to browse for some extra sheets for the beds at the house. While walking through the Goodwill, something caught my eye.

There it was. Not obvious, mixed in with all of the other coffee cups. It drew my eyes like a moth to a flame. It was a coffee mug that we had given Grandma years ago. Custom made by my brother. It had all of my grandma's wacky sayings on it, along with various other inside jokes.

My heart started racing. I forced back the tears from my eyes.

I walked promptly to the register and paid for my sheets.

Calmly, I walked outside to my rental car.

I opened the door.

I sat down.

I cried.

I've never really had the chance to say good-bye to my grandma. Yes, in body, she is still here. But she's not here. She doesn't laugh. She doesn't smile. Her eyes are empty of any recognition.

Alzheimer's Disease is a terrible and ugly illness.

It has stripped my grandma of everything that made her who she is and has left a shell of a woman literally going through the motions of life.

Seeing her coffee cup on the shelf at the Goodwill really made me realize that she isn't coming back. Her life has been reduced to the memories of her children and grandchildren.

I miss the sound of her laugh. I miss the sound of her voice.

I miss her.

But even though she doesn't know I am there, I will continue to visit her. I will continue to read to her. I will continue to feed her. Because I know I'm there and I know that I will never get these moments back.

Root of the Issue ~ Pour Your Heart Out

Today I am linking up with my very dear friend Shell at Things I Can't Say.

Hop on over and check out her Pour Your Heart Out feature!

Maybe you may have a tale of your own to link!

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Sometimes life seems to careen out of control. While we don't see the forces behind it, there is generally a reason for this being amiss or going awry.

My daughter has been struggling with ADHD and ODD for the majority of her life.  While she was not diagnosed until she was 6, she has exhibited the behaviors of these diagnosis since infancy.  Within the last year, we have seemed to find a medication that truly affected her positively.  After scares with violence, weightloss, and other scary side effects, I was afraid we would never find something that suited her.  You can imagine my relief when something seemed to be working.

In the year since begining this medication, she has made amazing progress.  She has met many of her long term IEP goals at school and has been progressing toward personal goals with her in home therapist.  I was finally beginning to see the light at the end of the proverbial tunnel.

As you have read recently, things have been declining in my home in regards to her behavior.  After talking at length with her in home therapist, I learned that there had to be some sort of catalyst setting her down this path of regression.  Knowing that her home life has been consistant and stable, I began to dig into her school life.  What I discovered was sad and frightening.

It turns out that my daughter has been the victim of some serious bullying.  To quote her principal, the aggressors are "gifted at making others feel badly about themselves."  While I had known there were girls that had picked on my daughter for years, I never had any reason to believe it had gotten past girls just being brats. In the last week, I have come to learn that my daughter (while no saint by any means) has been singled out and routinely verbally attacked on the playground before school.  The bullies have been calling her a bitch and a slut, telling her she is ugly, has ugly clothes, that everyone hates her, and that no one will ever be her friend. She has been told that kids are afraid of her because she's different, and comments have been made about her requiring medication to get through the school day and about her requiring special education services for EBD (emotional behavioral disorders). She has also been told that she will get her ass kicked if she doesn't stop talking to certain boys in her class.

Most recently, one of the attacks was videoed by another girl on her telephone and sent around the 5th grade via text. Yes. This is the 5th grade.

While my daughter is receiving consequences in our home for her in appropriate response to these acts (name calling and threats of violent retaliation), no consequences have taken place at school for any of the girls involved.  In fact, until I called my daughter's special ed teacher AT HOME on Thursday night, no one at school knew any of this was going on.

The principal called me on Friday to tell me he called all girls involved to his office to talk.  He told them all they were receiving their 1st and only warning for this and if it continued, consequences from ISS to expulsion would occur. While I believe this has curbed the issue for now, I'm not sure what this means for my daughter going forward.

First of all, why did it take so long for me to figure out what was going on? Why had she not told anyone until it got to this point? How do we protect our kids from home if the people at the school don't even know it is happening?

Secondly, while I appreciate the school jumping on this on Friday (remember, I called a teacher at home on Thursday), why didn't the principal hear my daughter's plea for help on WEDNESDAY when she tried talking to him? When I brought that up in our conversation on Friday, he admitted to dismissing her when she tried to talk to him. What does it take for a little kid to be heard?

While I agree that bullying is not a new issue in our world, I believe that it is starting much younger and that kids are far crueler. Have you or your children ever been the target of bullying? How did the school handle it? Do you think it was dealt with satisfactorily? Did the bullying end after school intervention?

Me and my beautiful and very trying girl.

I Did It! I Poured My Heart Out!

I feel a little bit stuck.

There are a lot of thoughts busying themselves in my head.  While I can talk the ear off a deaf man, I am having a difficult time finessing the English language into text. 

When I started this blog just over a year ago, the intent was to share the things that happen in my life that cause me to shake my head and look for the film crew.  I intended to chronicle my daily struggle with being mom and woman, not allowing the prior to define the latter.

I look back through my archives and I realize there is so much that has been left unsaid.  Unsaid because I can't find the words.  Unsaid because I'm not sure that this is the place for it.  My intention wasn't to write day in and day out about the amazingness of my spawn.  While they are quite remarkable and very unique, my completely biased perception of them can only be handled by others in doses.  I wrote a bit about dating then met a man that could quite possibly become a permanent addition to this family of three.  I have told you pieces of my struggle with my daughter's ADHD and ODD, but not to the point that those unfamiliar with the disorders can comprehend the havoc it wreaks on me and my son.  But that is her story and I don't want for her to look back one day and tell me it wasn't mine to tell.

So where do I go from here?  What parts of my story should I tell? Where do I see this adventure taking me?  I don't feel like I've said all I want to say.  I'm excited about the relationships I've built by having this blog and I look forward to creating more.  There are so many things I feel strongly about and I see this blog as a platform to bring these issues and passions to the attention of my readers.  I may not fit into a particular niche, so I guess I will create my own...  The "True to Myself" niche.  I will do my best to write about things that are true to me.  They may not always be passionate, they may not always be noble, but they will always be 100% me.