2024 : YIR PT 2

I started writing this yesterday, December 28, which would have been my mother's 82nd birthday! She was 41 when she died, so she's officially been dead as long as she was alive. Seems more and more unreal to me as only a few memories remain now. I realize I don't talk enough about my father. I didn't publicly acknowledge his birthday or the anniversary of his passing. I haven't really in years. Mostly because I am scarcely on social media.

I'm so sad today. On days like this, I just realize how fucked I was from the very beginning.

I forgot all of anything I have ever written, so for those that have binge read this blog, I am sorry if I repeat myself. The last real post was in June. The kids were in summer camp. Summer camp didn't go so well, and actually that last post was really when shit came to a head with Adrian's behavior.

. . dun dun duuunnn

Yea, so he was kicked out of summer camp after the last incident of throwing a large stick at a moving vehicle. There was someone (a professional in children's mental health) with him that he is familiar with, so that actually helped defuse a situation that certainly could have escalated. That night, I took Adrian to the hospital, for a second time, but this time they admitted him. I was scared . . and upset. I don't want it to be this way. They put the kid in a green gumby paper suit and give food on cardboard trays with cardboard spoons. 🥹 Someone sits in the doorway 24/7 just watching him.

I spent a lot of time there that night, until he fell asleep and then went right back with his dad after getting the other kids off to camp the next morning. Dad had stuff to do, so he had to leave at some point, but I stayed with Adrian most of the day.

• This is when I started learning that Doctor's are few and far between. APRN's and PA's are doing a lot more face-to-face patient appointment things. Thank God for them because we could use all the help we could get. Especially when it comes to a children's mental health.

People came in and out assessing him, but basically this local hospital is only a holding place while we wait for a bed to open up in the ONLY in-patient adolescent mental health facility in the STATE! Can you believe it? ONE HOSPITAL FOR KIDS! I am shaking my head, too. To make things a bit more complicated, the hospital was going through some remodeling at the time and only half of the beds were available.

BUT, I never once felt like we would be there for long. I knew that we'd get the call within a few days that a bed opened up.

Most of the sitters (those that sit in the hallways watching the patient) would tell me "Nahhhh most kids are here for weeks. Sometimes months. There's no way a bed will open up." I would get sickened by their negativity because we definitely want to focus on moving this along. They learned quickly to brighten their spirits before sitting in that doorway!

Can you imagine . . a special needs kid being stuck in a hospital room for God knows how long, with someone watching them constantly? Ugh. Even for an adult, that would be hard! So sad . . .

'It might be like a vacation for me', I thought seeing myself in his position.

Adrian would pace the room. He would beg to leave. He would beg to have someone call me. He would call me 48556 times if I wasn't right there asking me if I was on my way. For Adrian, you can't use vague time frames. You have to be specific and you better stick with it. "I will be there in 17 minutes. That will be at 8:24!" I would GPS directions just so I could get the ETA for him. Poor bubby.

A bed at the Psychiatric Hospital opened up in less than 4 days! I would look at the sitters . . "See?" Hmph.

He was taken by ambulance over an hour away and I followed behind. When we got there, I filled out all of the admissions paperwork, gave him a big hug and kiss and reminded him of how brave he is! I knew I wouldn't see him for a few days and honestly, I hate to say it, but I really needed the break.

I spoke with the Doctor assigned to him. She was wonderful. They changed his prescriptions some, and gave him the official DX of Tourette's. This is added on to the ADHD, ASD, and DMDD that he's already been diagnosed with. I had a few video meetings with the Doctor and the Social Worker. I explained my reservations about bringing him back home because he is violent. He is physically abusive to his siblings and emotional abusive to all of us. I almost demanded a CAT assessment, but they refused. 2 weeks later, he was released back home.

Maybe I was trying to pass the buck a little bit. I got a lot done in those two weeks and I knew Adrian was in good care. He truly needs to be watched every waking moment to be sure he doesn't damage property or hurt other people. But I was left with something like, "Here's a case worker for two weeks. She will get you in touch with everyone you need to get in touch with. GLHF . . " 😕 Say what?

For the next two weeks . . well, they are kind of a blur. First, my brain doesn't work like it used to. At the time, it was barely working at all. Again, I couldn't focus on my recovery because I need to fill out this application and that application. <----- for Adrian. MY applications and then the family assistance applications were also mixed in there.

A different Social Worker came to the house to chat with me about Adrian and asked what our family needs and I straight out told her, "I need Adrian placed in a facility for his safety and the safety of the rest of us!" She told me she knows someone at DCYF, "Do you want me to just call and, without giving your information, see what can be done?" I replied, "You can give them our information. They know us. No problem. Give them my number."

About a week later, I got a call from a woman at DCYF. She confused me a little bit because she is talking like, "There are some allegations of physical abuse and . . yada yada yada. Are you aware of this?" "Uhh yea I had someone call you for help." I said. For the next several weeks we were monitored and grilled and filled out MORE applications with "The K's". That's what my therapist and I called the two ladies that came to our house (twice). Their names both started with K. "How did it go with the K's?" 😆

The motto of DCYF and every single professional I come across is, "It's our goal to keep the children in the house with their family." Okay, so . . even when that child is physically and emotionally abusive? I now have two other children that will need life long therapy because of this trauma. So you tell me . . what's broken here?

Oh, it's funny too because these same professionals will agree . . the system is broken. So whoooo the fuuuuck can fix it? Because this is bullllllshit!

Did I mention that TWO people from the children's mental health program Adrian attends (his prescriber and his therapist) both told me during Adrian's stay at the in-patient facility and when he came home that I can just forfeit my parental rights? That was their solution.

Give up my parental rights? Are you fucking kidding me? I am the most PRESENT parent around here. I am on top of everything. His appointments, his meds, the absolute shit show at my house every single evening and every weekend. Yes, hi .. I am his mother and that's the way it is. Here I am . . stuttering, unable to properly find words, walking with a cane, in constant pain trying to handle my own shit. Now get me some real fucking help here!!

Spoiler alert . .

No real help came

But his prescriber increased the dose of a med, switched another around - basically back to what it was before he was admitted to that facility - and shockingly things started to settle down. Maybe a teeny bit.

Adrian's love language is receiving gifts. He needs things that cost money and his meds make him crave sweets. I can't even go into what it is like when I watch him eat. Like he's in a mess hall just shoveling food into his mouth, breathing hard. He's 11 and he's massive. He is build like a truck. God, please help this child! 🙏🏼