I don't know why I've always had a connection to dates - specific dates that have an impact on my life. 366 days ago is when our life started a trajectory we did not envision nor know anything about. That was the morning I received a call from an ER doctor telling me that my daughter was in their care, was intoxicated and babbling about wanting to die. We had known that our daughter had struggled with anxiety and self harm, was defiant and sneaking out of the house. Like most teenagers, she used alcohol and occasionally marijuana. We had enforced consequences for her behavior, and were concerned for the frequency that these events were occurring but we did not realize just how deep the problems were.
I raced to the hospital, where my daughter was in a solitary room on suicide watch. She was still rather drunk (+ 0.10 when she arrived at the ER), and quite sleepy. The little bit of a story I was able to get out was that she had been with friends all night drinking, she was driving and realized she was drunk and shouldn't be driving, and she began having a panic attack. The "friends" she was with dropped her off at the ER of local children's hospital and left. This began our journey into the world of dual diagnosis: mental illness with a drug or alcohol addiction. Initially, our daughter fought against both of these labels, wanting to focus only on the mental illness portion of depression, anxiety, and borderline personality disorder. She fought against any type of label of having a problem with drugs or alcohol, maintained that she did not have a problem. After spending eight days in an adolescent behavioral health unit, she came home and began outpatient care at a local facility. This facility was a dual diagnosis therapy center, and she hated it from the beginning. This impeded her ability to seek and accept the help she desperately needed. She fought the daily group and treatment options available to her, consequently making no progress in her health.
Her alcohol and her drug use escalated, expanding drug use to crack cocaine and Molly/Ecstasy. We were managing some of her behaviors with rules and consequences at home, but she still was sneaking out, using, lying, and stealing. Three months after beginning outpatient treatment, she swallowed over 150 Benadryl tablets in a suicide attempt. Thankfully, she was not successful and it seemed that she had finally hit her rock bottom. She was moved into a dual diagnosis residential treatment facility where she embraced her drug and alcohol abuse, and also the necessity for intense treatment for her many mental illnesses.
She spent 3 1/2 months in residential treatment, and after a few rocky months back at home, including another hospital stay and a drug/alcohol relapse, she's in a much more stable place. Each day is progress and gives us all hope. When I reflected with her how far she has come in 366 days, she was pensive as she realized what a turn her life has taken. She will continue to work hard at both her sobriety and her mental health, as this is something she will have to work through her entire life. It is the disease that doesn't go away with time, it only allows you to become stronger in your fight. 366 days has given me hope that I didn't have 367 days ago; hope for my daughter and for the amazing life she has ahead of her.
Sunday, January 24, 2016
Sunday, September 13, 2015
It Only Gets Harder
Making the decision to bring your child to the Behavioral Emergency Center isn't an easy one. In fact, it was the first time we had done it without a suicide attempt or ideation episode. I didn't know the first step in what to do; with direction and advice from our county case worker, we were able to take the first step: talk to her about her need for help. Since returning from residential treatment at a dual diagnosis facility, she has been having erratic. sometimes manic, behavior. Her sole focus has been on her chemical health and staying sober, which is vital to her maintaining her emotional and mental health, but she's been neglecting her mental health. As most children/adults with mental health (depression, borderline personality traits. generalized anxiety), she doesn't see that there is any cause for her concern and strongly fought us when we suggested taking a trip to the hospital. She doesn't hear us when we voice our concerns over her behaviors, and share that her caseworker, social worker at school, and best friend all have similar concerns. Her immediate reaction is that we want to get rid of her and "send her away". I have learned not to reason with she when she begins an episode; she can't hear anything except what she thinks she hears.
Immediately upon suggestion, she began screaming; blood curdling, someone is getting murdered in front of my eyes screaming. I am confident that everyone in my neighborhood could hear her screams, rants, and constant expletives as we tried to calm her down. At the suggestion of our county mental health crisis line, I called 9-11 for assistance. Our daughter tried to leave the house, then raced up to her room and slammed the door. Fearful of what she might do alone in her room, my husband stood guard outside her door, eyes on her the entire time. As I was explaining to the 9-11 dispatch operator what was going on, while I was on my front porch, she told me she could hear my daughter's screams through the closed door. After about 10 minutes, an ambulance and three police cars arrived; my daughter walked out and said to the paramedic, "Let's do this", and then made a snarky comment to me. The paramedic instantly told my daughter to "get in the ambulance" in a tone that told her DO NOT MESS WITH ME. My daughter complied, and was guarded by the other paramedic and a police officer.
The experience at the hospital was not any better; she was so filled with hatred and anger toward me and my husband. She called us cowards (actually f'ing cowards), and told the staff at the hospital that we were idiots. I admit, for a while I wondered if what we were doing was the right thing, and let her get in my head. However, all of the mental health professionals we dealt with assured us that we were doing the right thing and the best thing for our daughter.
It has been two days since we left her at the hospital, and she has not wanted to see us. We've had very tense phone calls and her anger and hatred is still very strong toward us. I wish she could understand just how much this hurts us, too. Our son, who is away at college, has also been concerned and he joins us in wanting her to know how much we all want her to get healthy and lead the life God has planned for her.
Immediately upon suggestion, she began screaming; blood curdling, someone is getting murdered in front of my eyes screaming. I am confident that everyone in my neighborhood could hear her screams, rants, and constant expletives as we tried to calm her down. At the suggestion of our county mental health crisis line, I called 9-11 for assistance. Our daughter tried to leave the house, then raced up to her room and slammed the door. Fearful of what she might do alone in her room, my husband stood guard outside her door, eyes on her the entire time. As I was explaining to the 9-11 dispatch operator what was going on, while I was on my front porch, she told me she could hear my daughter's screams through the closed door. After about 10 minutes, an ambulance and three police cars arrived; my daughter walked out and said to the paramedic, "Let's do this", and then made a snarky comment to me. The paramedic instantly told my daughter to "get in the ambulance" in a tone that told her DO NOT MESS WITH ME. My daughter complied, and was guarded by the other paramedic and a police officer.
The experience at the hospital was not any better; she was so filled with hatred and anger toward me and my husband. She called us cowards (actually f'ing cowards), and told the staff at the hospital that we were idiots. I admit, for a while I wondered if what we were doing was the right thing, and let her get in my head. However, all of the mental health professionals we dealt with assured us that we were doing the right thing and the best thing for our daughter.
It has been two days since we left her at the hospital, and she has not wanted to see us. We've had very tense phone calls and her anger and hatred is still very strong toward us. I wish she could understand just how much this hurts us, too. Our son, who is away at college, has also been concerned and he joins us in wanting her to know how much we all want her to get healthy and lead the life God has planned for her.
Sunday, September 6, 2015
A Whole New World
The song from The Little Mermaid is running through my mind right now; the past 9 months our family has been immersed into a whole new world involving addiction, recovery, and mental illness. It's not much of a surprise that this is what was causing my daughter's actions, especially when we dive into details and become more knowledgeable on things. The worrisome actions in my last entry continued and intensified in frequency, so much that when our son was home over Christmas break he was the first to mention that there might be "something wrong with her" (i.e. mental illness). A few days after taking him back to college, I called the local hospital mental health intake line, and left a detailed message on my concerns with my daughter. They never called me back. That was a Tuesday; three days later my husband woke up to find five other teenagers in our house in the early morning hours, with a slew of empty liquor, beer, and wine bottles.
At 7:00 a.m. I received a phone call from an ER doctor at Children's Hospital in Minneapolis, indicating that my daughter was in their care and to come right away. This is not the phone call that any parent wants to receive; the doctor was very vague on the phone and I didn't have any idea what condition my daughter was in. I managed to call my principal to find coverage for me that morning, got dressed and raced to the hospital in morning rush hour.
When I arrived at Children's Hospital, I discovered she was unharmed (thankfully) but quite intoxicated and had been making comments about wanting to die. Her blood alcohol level was 0.11 when she arrived at the hospital, I can only imagine what it was when she left our house just a few hours earlier. She had been driving the car with the group of kids and started to have a panic attack because she realized that she was driving drunk. The "friends" she was with dropped her off at the ER door and took off.
We met with a social worker, and there was grave concern over our daughter's behavior patterns. The social worker indicated she wanted to have our daughter admitted to a adolescent behavior unit for testing, observation, and treatment. We were told that this could take a few days, as there were no beds available at facilities in the Twin Cities. Keeks would remain a patient at Children's Hospital until a bed in an adolescent psych unit opened up. A few hours later, the social worker came back to share that there was a bed open...in a hospital in Duluth (a 3 hour drive north of the Twin Cities). We agonized over this, but in the end decided that it was best for her to get treatment right away. Keeks was sent by ambulance immediately to Duluth.
She spent eight days in the adolescent psych unit at Miller-Dwan hospital in Duluth before coming home and beginning outpatient care at a local facility. She was diagnosed with major depression, generalized anxiety, borderline personality traits, PTSD, and a few others. Anti-anxiety/anti-depressant medication was prescribed and we were hopeful that the nightmare would end soon. We wanted our daughter back and we wanted more than anything to keep her safe and healthy.
At 7:00 a.m. I received a phone call from an ER doctor at Children's Hospital in Minneapolis, indicating that my daughter was in their care and to come right away. This is not the phone call that any parent wants to receive; the doctor was very vague on the phone and I didn't have any idea what condition my daughter was in. I managed to call my principal to find coverage for me that morning, got dressed and raced to the hospital in morning rush hour.
When I arrived at Children's Hospital, I discovered she was unharmed (thankfully) but quite intoxicated and had been making comments about wanting to die. Her blood alcohol level was 0.11 when she arrived at the hospital, I can only imagine what it was when she left our house just a few hours earlier. She had been driving the car with the group of kids and started to have a panic attack because she realized that she was driving drunk. The "friends" she was with dropped her off at the ER door and took off.
We met with a social worker, and there was grave concern over our daughter's behavior patterns. The social worker indicated she wanted to have our daughter admitted to a adolescent behavior unit for testing, observation, and treatment. We were told that this could take a few days, as there were no beds available at facilities in the Twin Cities. Keeks would remain a patient at Children's Hospital until a bed in an adolescent psych unit opened up. A few hours later, the social worker came back to share that there was a bed open...in a hospital in Duluth (a 3 hour drive north of the Twin Cities). We agonized over this, but in the end decided that it was best for her to get treatment right away. Keeks was sent by ambulance immediately to Duluth.
She spent eight days in the adolescent psych unit at Miller-Dwan hospital in Duluth before coming home and beginning outpatient care at a local facility. She was diagnosed with major depression, generalized anxiety, borderline personality traits, PTSD, and a few others. Anti-anxiety/anti-depressant medication was prescribed and we were hopeful that the nightmare would end soon. We wanted our daughter back and we wanted more than anything to keep her safe and healthy.
Sunday, November 23, 2014
It has to get easier
I sit here, the second Sunday in a row not knowing where my daughter is. Last night we said good night to her as we left for an evening out with friends, expecting to see her when we returned by 10:00 p.m. She had been out late the night before, and understood that she did not have car privileges. She seemed content to stay at home with our dogs, and have a lazy Saturday night. Around 8:20 p.m. she sent me a text that her "friends" were picking her up to go to a party. No other details, no idea who she was with or where she was. Around 12:30 a.m. I asked her where she was and who she was with; she simply responded that she wouldn't be home. She finally told me she was in St. Paul and that was the last communication I had with her.
These are not feeling that I am happy to be having on a regular basis; my stomach is in knots wondering where she is, who she is with, is she safe, is she coming home? She seems to have no sense of remorse or regret for acting this way toward us, and even acts as if we are the villain expecting her to communicate with us and respect our wishes. Parents have little recourse available to them in a situation like this; basically we were told one option we had was to suspend her drivers license and that was about it. She is embarking on life choices that are so risky and dangerous not only to herself, but potentially to others. Any consequences we seem to employ at home are laughed at and disregarded. As broken as my heart is right now, I also feel it hardening toward this child. If I have a Teflon coating around my emotions for her, maybe it won't hurt so much when she disappears, lashes out, and continues to make this life together a battle.
These are not feeling that I am happy to be having on a regular basis; my stomach is in knots wondering where she is, who she is with, is she safe, is she coming home? She seems to have no sense of remorse or regret for acting this way toward us, and even acts as if we are the villain expecting her to communicate with us and respect our wishes. Parents have little recourse available to them in a situation like this; basically we were told one option we had was to suspend her drivers license and that was about it. She is embarking on life choices that are so risky and dangerous not only to herself, but potentially to others. Any consequences we seem to employ at home are laughed at and disregarded. As broken as my heart is right now, I also feel it hardening toward this child. If I have a Teflon coating around my emotions for her, maybe it won't hurt so much when she disappears, lashes out, and continues to make this life together a battle.
Sunday, November 9, 2014
Parenting is TOUGH
No one said that being a parent would be easy - and in the past 11 months we've faced some of the toughest parenting of 20 years. Let me start by stressing how much I love my daughter, what a wonderful loving, caring, silly young lady she is. She is not a bad kid, she is just prone to making bad, impulsive decisions. I know we are not alone in facing this struggle, thousands of parents each day are battling with teenage children, and many of them in much more challenging situations that what we are. I am not writing this for pity, but rather to share our honest story in the hopes that other parents with great kids who struggle with the same issues do not feel ashamed and alone.
Our daughter is a great kid - I will continue to say that. The advent of a driving permit, new friendships, and the continuing battle with impulse control due to ADHD caused her to begin making some dangerous and risky decisions. To name a few: taking the car out on several occasions on her own (no license...just a permit), in the middle of the night; not coming home at night, leaving us to wonder where she was; sneaking friends into our house in the middle of the night; dabbling in alcohol and drug use cover the majority of incidents. One of the nights she took out a car, she hit something, causing over $3000 of damage to the front of the car. She still doesn't remember what she hit or where. We try to run a fairly tight ship with discipline in our house, and ask for mutual respect and honesty. Our children have attended private, parochial school since kindergarten, understanding that this is a privilege and our household behavior expectations reflect that. When things started to spin out of control with our daughter, we used the threat of attendance at her private high school as a bargaining chip. Continue this behavior, and she would no longer be attending her beloved school, especially when there are public and charter school alternatives available for her.
After two weekends in a row of not coming home (with telling us she was on her way home), we had enough and called the police. Let me tell you, this was not something that I did easily. My hands were shaking the entire time on the phone, my voice quivering, tears flowing as I had to tell my story three separate times to 911 dispatch operators. After I had made the phone call, I reached out to one of my daughter's friends, found out where she was, but was still determined to have our daughter meet and talk with the officer when he arrived at our house. He arrived about 15 minutes before our daughter finally came home, and handled her like the professional that he is. He didn't yell at her, but made her options on continuing this behavior very clear, told her she was f*ing up her life, and unless she wanted to find herself in jail some day, she better stop. Our daughter was silent, listening, seeming to take it all in. When the officer was done speaking to her, she asked him if he would be taking her to jail now. He replied no, but told her that her name was now on a national list of runaways, should this happen again when she was found, she would be instantly taken to a police station.
We made the decision that afternoon to pull her from her private high school, and began to explore other options for her to finish high school. There was no yelling by either my husband or me, lots of tears, sobbing, and pleading from our daughter (she even enlisted some of her friends in a plea campaign for her to stay at her current school). We remained firm in our decision.
While some of our family was supportive of our decision, other members have not been -- going so far as to hang up the phone on my husband as he tried to explain the reason(s) for this decision. Some family members think we are being too harsh with her, expecting her to be the role model that her older brother was. Again, I ask that they spend the past eleven months in our shoes -- the constant fighting, defiance, willful disobedience from a child. Watching them make decisions that could have permanent and devastating consequences for themselves, our family, and worse others. We've taken away car keys, cell phone but she has still managed to find a way to sneak out and engage in these risky, dangerous behaviors. We love our daughter, so much that it literally hurts. The easiest thing would be to let her continue engaging in these behaviors and have her deal with the inevitable consequences. But I will repeat, we love our daughter. That was never an option for us, as tempting as it may have been at times.
Parenting is tough, and it is only through the grace of God that we get through it each day.
Our daughter is a great kid - I will continue to say that. The advent of a driving permit, new friendships, and the continuing battle with impulse control due to ADHD caused her to begin making some dangerous and risky decisions. To name a few: taking the car out on several occasions on her own (no license...just a permit), in the middle of the night; not coming home at night, leaving us to wonder where she was; sneaking friends into our house in the middle of the night; dabbling in alcohol and drug use cover the majority of incidents. One of the nights she took out a car, she hit something, causing over $3000 of damage to the front of the car. She still doesn't remember what she hit or where. We try to run a fairly tight ship with discipline in our house, and ask for mutual respect and honesty. Our children have attended private, parochial school since kindergarten, understanding that this is a privilege and our household behavior expectations reflect that. When things started to spin out of control with our daughter, we used the threat of attendance at her private high school as a bargaining chip. Continue this behavior, and she would no longer be attending her beloved school, especially when there are public and charter school alternatives available for her.
After two weekends in a row of not coming home (with telling us she was on her way home), we had enough and called the police. Let me tell you, this was not something that I did easily. My hands were shaking the entire time on the phone, my voice quivering, tears flowing as I had to tell my story three separate times to 911 dispatch operators. After I had made the phone call, I reached out to one of my daughter's friends, found out where she was, but was still determined to have our daughter meet and talk with the officer when he arrived at our house. He arrived about 15 minutes before our daughter finally came home, and handled her like the professional that he is. He didn't yell at her, but made her options on continuing this behavior very clear, told her she was f*ing up her life, and unless she wanted to find herself in jail some day, she better stop. Our daughter was silent, listening, seeming to take it all in. When the officer was done speaking to her, she asked him if he would be taking her to jail now. He replied no, but told her that her name was now on a national list of runaways, should this happen again when she was found, she would be instantly taken to a police station.
We made the decision that afternoon to pull her from her private high school, and began to explore other options for her to finish high school. There was no yelling by either my husband or me, lots of tears, sobbing, and pleading from our daughter (she even enlisted some of her friends in a plea campaign for her to stay at her current school). We remained firm in our decision.
While some of our family was supportive of our decision, other members have not been -- going so far as to hang up the phone on my husband as he tried to explain the reason(s) for this decision. Some family members think we are being too harsh with her, expecting her to be the role model that her older brother was. Again, I ask that they spend the past eleven months in our shoes -- the constant fighting, defiance, willful disobedience from a child. Watching them make decisions that could have permanent and devastating consequences for themselves, our family, and worse others. We've taken away car keys, cell phone but she has still managed to find a way to sneak out and engage in these risky, dangerous behaviors. We love our daughter, so much that it literally hurts. The easiest thing would be to let her continue engaging in these behaviors and have her deal with the inevitable consequences. But I will repeat, we love our daughter. That was never an option for us, as tempting as it may have been at times.
Parenting is tough, and it is only through the grace of God that we get through it each day.
Monday, March 10, 2014
The Toughest Week of the Year
This is a week I dread every year since 2005, because I can vividly recall the events each day leading up to the day my youngest son Colm was born. March 9th was the last day I felt him move inside of me; March 12th is the day the doctor. told me that my son's heart was no longer beating; March 15th was the day Corey and I walked into Best Buy to purchase a digital camera to catalog every moment we had with our unborn son and the unknowing sales associate helping us congratulated us on the birth of our baby. Neither of us had the heart to tell him that this baby wouldn't take a breath, open his eyes, or utter a cry as he emerged into this world. March 16th day was the day I walked into Fairview Ridges Hospital to give birth to my youngest son; March 17th was the day I left the hospital without my baby boy.
What is so significant for me this year, is that 10 years have passed. It is beyond my comprehension that much time has gone by, because so much of it is still a clear memory for me. I am also terrified that with each passing year I might forget the emotions of this week, which in some way seems as if I would forget him. Ten years ago today, I sensed something wasn't right, my little baby boy who wiggled whenever I ate a bowl of ice cream or sat in front of the computer screen was not responding to either. I prayed that in the next hour I would feel a twinge of movement, or feel a resounding KICK from him, but all I felt was a heavy weight in my stomach.
My heart is heavy during this week, but it is also lifted in love by all of our friends and family members who remember his brief, but sweet, life. Tears and sadness are okay -- it is all a part of the journey. If you see me, even if I have a smile, know that an extra prayer or hug will let me know you are thinking of my sweet little boy who will be celebrating his 10th birthday in Heaven with the angels this weekend.
What is so significant for me this year, is that 10 years have passed. It is beyond my comprehension that much time has gone by, because so much of it is still a clear memory for me. I am also terrified that with each passing year I might forget the emotions of this week, which in some way seems as if I would forget him. Ten years ago today, I sensed something wasn't right, my little baby boy who wiggled whenever I ate a bowl of ice cream or sat in front of the computer screen was not responding to either. I prayed that in the next hour I would feel a twinge of movement, or feel a resounding KICK from him, but all I felt was a heavy weight in my stomach.
My heart is heavy during this week, but it is also lifted in love by all of our friends and family members who remember his brief, but sweet, life. Tears and sadness are okay -- it is all a part of the journey. If you see me, even if I have a smile, know that an extra prayer or hug will let me know you are thinking of my sweet little boy who will be celebrating his 10th birthday in Heaven with the angels this weekend.
Monday, January 20, 2014
Car Problems Suck
Thanks Jen for the tagline for today. There is nothing good about car repairs. They are always expensive, always necessary, and one of the hardest things to crack open the wallet to pay for.
Today we received the news on my car, and it wasn't good. Basically, it was what Corey anticipated hearing. The engine is kaput. Something about the compression chambers, only 2 of them working and of those two working, they are on their last breath. To quote the service advisor, "Whatever you did, you did it good!". Stefan at Ken Vance VW is working to find us a reasonably priced used engine that they can put in to my car. Now, what he considers to be "reasonably priced" and what we consider it to be could be two completely different things! We'll know more tomorrow, and figure it out then.
Today we received the news on my car, and it wasn't good. Basically, it was what Corey anticipated hearing. The engine is kaput. Something about the compression chambers, only 2 of them working and of those two working, they are on their last breath. To quote the service advisor, "Whatever you did, you did it good!". Stefan at Ken Vance VW is working to find us a reasonably priced used engine that they can put in to my car. Now, what he considers to be "reasonably priced" and what we consider it to be could be two completely different things! We'll know more tomorrow, and figure it out then.
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