Sleep eludes me lately. I have so many thoughts and emotions wandering around in my mind. Conflicting emotions fighting for position and demanding my undivided attention. Keeps me lying awake for hours as I ponder my abilities to make right choices and secure some semblance of a sound mind.
The reality that washes over me as I watch the early morning sun stretch its arms across the sky is that my heart is broken. Yet, I walk through my day hiding. Hiding behind this mask called happiness, covering my failures and brokenness from the world and those around me. But for those who know me. I mean really know me. They can see what lives behind the mask just by looking into my eyes. From the rest I remain in hiding.
As I continue to lay there precious moments sneak in and filter through the clouds that have covered my heart. I find myself smiling. For real. As I ponder the growth and progress that has blossomed in my Amaris. Or, the way the Burrito's cheeks look as if the sun reached right down from the sky and kissed them turning them into bronzed glowing sweetness. Or, the joy I have found in the emergence of a new relationship with my first born, deeper respect and trust has been born between us a special closeness I treasure. I will miss him when he goes back east to school. The pride I feel at the new found maturity and responsibility Isaiah has gained, the celebration of Samuel having a good day, the laughter that spills out of me when Elijah walks into the room.
Then I realize my joy, and the pain and guilt sets in. My mind zooms back to the whirl wind of how we arrived to this murky in between that has become our journey. In moments like these I find myself too weary to even cry. In a speechless moment I am suddenly a tornado of fear and sound. Questioning my every thought and decision and realize that once you step over the threshold~ your life is no longer yours. You spend months even years waiting. Waiting in endless freezing hallways. Waiting in dingy smelly offices. Sitting and waiting on hard, dirty, plastic chairs. Waiting to hear your fate and that of your child. You get scrutinized. ignored. supported (although you feel so undeserving of such). validated (which then multiplies your guilt). admired (why????) scorned. pitied. You do not get to ask. They ask you. You may not tell. You get told.
My mind moves back in time a few months. We are standing at the desk of the admitting clerk of the local ER. One day after I found the carvings in her leg~less than 4 hours after I found her suicide letters~20+ pages of horrific pain and pleadings to end her suffereing~I stand there keeping her image locked within my line of vision while I answer sterile questions and this surreal feeling envelopes me as if I am watching a made for TV movie starring us. I find myself scanning the surroundings for 'sharps' moving anything I see that I can imagine her turning into a weapon to be used against herself.
I hold the vision of her in my mind and ponder the changes. No longer do I see the sparkle of innocence in her beautiful green eyes. She has taken on this listlessness~yet she seems like a fearless warrior plotting out the victory over her next battle against us~the enemy.
We are directed to sit in waiting. More chairs to add to the discomfort of the moment. Soon we are ushered into yet another sterile and freezing room where we are interrogated. questioned. raised eyebrows gazing even glaring at times. Failures as a mother are magnified in such sterile places and leave permanent markings on the heart.
I am flabbergasted as I hear the words falling from the lips of this social worker who was supposed to bring answers and relief and the beginning of healing to my girl. appalled that such idiocracy could be spoken in the presence of a child so fragile.
He sat there in the most normal calm state I have ever seen, as if we were discussing the weather and change of the seasons. He told us. cutting is a normal coping mechanism for the youth of today. That is the way it is. Cutting, suicide threats have become part of their culture. We should learn to understand them and support them.
Numbness washed over me as the realization that we may never find healing for her sets in and takes root in the core of my being. After hours it was finally decided that she should stay for observation.
A nurse escorts us through the back hallways up to the adolescent psych ward. I am surprised to see the brightly colored door that leads to the ward on which she will spend the next week.
A nurse meets us as the buzzer lets us on the floor. She takes Madison right away to get her searched and settled while we are escorted to a conference room to wait. An hour filled with silence passes by and a nurse walks into the room handing me a new stack of papers to fill out and we are promptly escorted back down the hallway to the door. I ask to speak to the doctor. I am shocked to hear that we have no contact with a doctor unless Madison says so. She is her own voice. Reality has just been bumped off kilter. We find ourselves walking in a new reality now controlled by Madison. The craziness of that moment is still baffling to me!
What a roller coaster. I had to force myself to exit the ride down memory lane or I likely would never get any sleep much less accomplish anything today. So I played my new game. And finally I sprouted wings and flew off to a place where I am at peace and sleep finally arrived.
I woke an hour later to greet the day. Stepping into the shower I went through my newly acquired ritual of mentally tucking all the pain and regret deep with in the confines of my heart. Placing my mask of happiness securely around my face and upon exiting the bathroom I am ready to tackle my day.
So dear diary until another day. Thanks for listening to my heart and for not judging me. Love Ang...
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