I mean, it was bound to happen . .

[warning: this post contains adult language]

It has taken me a whole week and some change to get to this post. I've written it once and shared it with those that needed to read it. It varied a little depending on who the recipient was. The original email took me 6 hours to write as I tried to catch and reorganize words in my head. And now, I've tweaked it a little for you.

Raising three small children later in life isn't very easy. I'm determined though. See, my early childhood wasn't pleasant, so I do everything in my will to be sure that these beautiful little humans have the best possible chance at a great life.

At the time of this writing, Adison is 11. He's fun, funny, loves school, is great at Fortnite, has great hair, is a bit emotional. Anna Lynn is 8. She's been diagnosed with ADHD, but it's more of a focus thing for her. She is always happy, bubbly, singing, dancing and loves gymnastics.

In between the two, there is Adrian. He's 10. He was diagnosed with ASD last August. Along with DMDD (Disruptive Mood Dysregulation Disorder), ADHD, and other letters that mean he is a few hands full. He is very difficult; disruptive, destructive, and inappropriate more often than not, and at times can become violent. He doesn't understand why he is different and why he can not hang out with his brother and his brother's friends. He receives special help at school through an IEP, and services through a local Children's Mental Health Facility.

For a long time I have said - even when giving a 2-3 minute Cliffnote's version of what life is like with this child any particular day with my radio audience - that I am in the most abusive relationship of my life, and one that I can not leave. What his dad, siblings, and I endure is nothing short of torment and torture.

Adrian's behavior in the past month or so has reached an epic level. From the most shocking name calling to the destruction of any object in his path, Adrian at times will seem to find joy out of my reactions. At some point recently, I stopped reacting. I became numb numb; like a zombie. I have never been so depressed and anxious in all of my life.  I even had the questions . . has Adrian been given the wrong medicine? Was he given a placebo? Both extremely unlikely.

We live in a small house, and there isn't much room to get away. His brother is stressed and depressed being the victim of the mental anguish. His sister is constantly surprised with what we can only describe as bi-polar tendencies when one minute Adrian is loving and caring to her, and the next breaking her toys or even more concerning, punching, kicking, or slapping her.  

And the only thing his dad and I can do is "Adrian stop" "Adrian please calm down". Adrian, Adrian, Adrian . . to which he replies, "No you fucking bitch!" "Fuck you!" "Go to hell, you [n-word]!" "Punk ass bitch!" "I hope you die!" "No one loves you!" it's relentless. He knows how deeply affected we are with him using the n-word, so he will use it much more often, just to spite us. Repeating it over and over. Loudly.

Oh yes . . I've spoken with his counselor. I think she can see my spirit leaving my body at each of his appointments. The life being sucked from me. All joy completely erased from my existence. I know the other kids see it too. However at work, on the air with two radio shows, I put on the best performance.

On Monday, May 20th, it all caught up to me. 

I hadn't been feeling quite like myself over the weekend. I noticed I was much more calm and careless to the chaos around me. However, my brain was spinning. It was like sensory overload. My feet and ankles started to swell quite a bit too which could be completely unrelated, but it was another sign that something was happening. I went to work as I normally do, feeling "off" and spoke with my boss about this. I felt that I would likely be leaving early so that I could rest. I don't sleep well, I suffer from chronic fatigue. Maybe I just needed a nap!

I got through most of my show, even utilized the opportunity to speak candidly during one of my breaks. I often do this - to remind whomever is listening - even just that one person, that they are strong and they are not alone in whatever they might be struggling with. My delivery was much like it usually is; caring and empathetic, but bright. But there was also a bit more resolve in my message, knowing that it was for me too. More so at that moment, as I started to feel very disconnected from my body and becoming a bit disoriented. 

I thought it was probably a good idea to head straight to my doctor's office. I called on my way to give them a heads up that I will need to see someone when I arrive.

To make a long story just a smidge shorter, upon my arrival, I was rushed to a nearby hospital presenting symptoms of a stroke. I don't have much memory of this block in time, and that is absolutely fine by me! I was administered a blood thinning clot buster that would essentially stop the effects of a stroke and even reverse it if the damage was not great. This is a very time sensitive thing so I am glad I didn't question what I was feeling and sought help right away. 

After a full 24 hours in the ICU, 4 CT scans, 2 MRIs and another 2 days in a recovery unit with an incredibly thoughtful team of medical professionals, it had been discovered that I have no permanent brain damage and in fact, this was not a stroke at all. What I have experienced is "Conversion Disorder". I was thrilled it wasn't a stroke, BUT, this is still very serious. 

I did my own research and it makes a lot of sense to me. Conversion Disorder is loosely described as a condition which is Neurological, however there are no definitive medically pathological causes. A person with Conversion Disorder went through something so psychologically profound that the resulting symptoms being presented mimic those of a stroke - weakness or paralysis, vision or hearing problem, trouble swallowing, confusion, difficulty or inability to speak. Some of these, I am still experiencing. The most concerning is aphasia; the inability to speak. Imagine that? Of all things . . 

I can explain it as words dancing in my head. The kids like when we visualize the words as people throwing a house party with maracas. I have complete comprehension. I can see words, know them, and understand them but I can not speak them. By the time I am able to say a word, I need to circle back in my mind to the beginning and find the second word. It is incredibly frustrating and exhausting. The extreme fatigue and frustration I feel is just overwhelming. 

Conversion Disorder is treatable with different therapies. In my case, I will require occupational and speech therapy, but more importantly psychotherapy. 

This is a critical time as any form of stress needs to be eliminated for me to be able to recover successfully, therefore the Mr. is using his PTO to allow me to take a step back as he steps up to the front lines.

With a career in radio broadcasting and voice overs, naturally, with aphasia, I am unable to work, which will place an unbelievable financial burden on us. But my radio families are all very understanding and are right there cheering me on!

Today, 8 days later, my speech has improved slightly. I still have a massive stutter, but I can rejoice in the baby steps and know that we will be protected by God's hands. 

As far as the next step with what kind of care we can receive with Adrian, I don't know. I'll keep posting here with updates! <3