BusynMember
Well-Known Member
He won't be back. Nor should he. This is a support board for hurting parents, not a place for bitter kids to vent. There are boards for every need. I'm sure he can find one to fit him.
Discussion thread: When did you first know how bad it was?
- Thread starter BusynMember
- Start date
Thank you MWM for opening up this dialogue.
My situation with my daughter started when her husband committed suicide 14 years ago. She was a relatively good kid growing up, was a little spoiled I think, but was a good student, a trustworthy teenager and we had a good relationship. She lost something in herself when her husband died. I can't explain it. Did the mental illness in my family history get unleashed when her husband died? Did she not grieve in a healthy way and stayed stuck in the anger phase? Geez, I could ask a million questions because I still don't know.
Suffice it to say that she started a descent into a very dark place and became a very bitter and angry person who made remarkably bad choices.
I think the moment I realized how bad it was was about 7 years ago during a mandatory mediation she and I had to attend through the courts once I made the choice to take my granddaughter. The mediator was a woman attorney. My daughter was belligerent, hostile, angry and extremely bothered that she had to attend this meeting. Instead of asking about her daughter, trying to find a way to reconcile with her daughter, she said repeatedly that she had "plans" and could not stay long. The attorney and I were dumbfounded, this was about her only child and could have been the way she would be able to either regain custody or at least see her daughter. She abruptly stated, "OK what do I have to sign, I have to leave NOW." And she left. I walked out with the attorney who told me that she had never seen anyone react that way before.
I know that dead eyes look too. It wasn't so scary to me because I felt afraid of her, perhaps because she is not a 6' tall male.........but it was scary because her eyes did not reflect any feelings, they were void of caring. It was as if when her husband died, that was the end of her ability or desire to feel again.
I spent a good deal of time denying all of this. I was overwhelmed with trying to take care of my granddaughter and her two half sisters who were all traumatized by their fathers death.
It didn't turn really bad until my daughter was thrown out of her friend's apartment about 2 1/2 years ago. That's when the bad behavior escalated and my enabling patterns kicked into overdrive. Thankfully at around the same time I got into that Codependency recovery program and found this site. Previous to that time, my daughter had held her life together with a job, her own place and just enough sanity to stay afloat.
The worst day and the day I really began turning my own life around was about a year and a half ago when my daughter was in jail the first time. She had never been involved with the law before. Her life was a mess and while she was in jail I ran all over the county trying to get her car out of impound, paying all of her bills, calling people, getting her Dad involved (who after 3 phone calls from me, "washed his hands of her"), in other words while she was incarcerated, I took over her crazy life and tried to fix it all. It was totally overwhelming and impossible. The day I learned I couldn't get her car out of impound without these permission slips from my daughter which now involved numerous government agencies and a whole lot of time and money............I broke down in the car and couldn't stop crying. I also had a granddaughter at home who had just had all four of her wisdom teeth removed and needed me home!
As my SO and I were driving the hour drive to the County offices to handle all of this.........I was sobbing and he said, "this is like you and your daughter are in a sinking boat with holes in the bottom. You are frantically and relentlessly trying to empty the boat of water, while your daughter is calmly making new holes."
That comment broke through the fog I was living in. That was the truth of the situation in one sentence. That was the day I stopped. That was the turning point for me. I had reached MY bottom.
Now my daughter is back in jail. The difference between then and now is PROFOUND! I have done very little for her and only what felt right to me. She is respectful and grateful to me. We have rediscovered our love for each other throughout this crazy journey! Every part of our relationship has changed due to my setting boundaries and detaching from her choices and accepting not only the situation but accepting her for who she is. Accepting is not condoning. Accepting is realizing I have no control over any of it.
Whew!
My situation with my daughter started when her husband committed suicide 14 years ago. She was a relatively good kid growing up, was a little spoiled I think, but was a good student, a trustworthy teenager and we had a good relationship. She lost something in herself when her husband died. I can't explain it. Did the mental illness in my family history get unleashed when her husband died? Did she not grieve in a healthy way and stayed stuck in the anger phase? Geez, I could ask a million questions because I still don't know.
Suffice it to say that she started a descent into a very dark place and became a very bitter and angry person who made remarkably bad choices.
I think the moment I realized how bad it was was about 7 years ago during a mandatory mediation she and I had to attend through the courts once I made the choice to take my granddaughter. The mediator was a woman attorney. My daughter was belligerent, hostile, angry and extremely bothered that she had to attend this meeting. Instead of asking about her daughter, trying to find a way to reconcile with her daughter, she said repeatedly that she had "plans" and could not stay long. The attorney and I were dumbfounded, this was about her only child and could have been the way she would be able to either regain custody or at least see her daughter. She abruptly stated, "OK what do I have to sign, I have to leave NOW." And she left. I walked out with the attorney who told me that she had never seen anyone react that way before.
I know that dead eyes look too. It wasn't so scary to me because I felt afraid of her, perhaps because she is not a 6' tall male.........but it was scary because her eyes did not reflect any feelings, they were void of caring. It was as if when her husband died, that was the end of her ability or desire to feel again.
I spent a good deal of time denying all of this. I was overwhelmed with trying to take care of my granddaughter and her two half sisters who were all traumatized by their fathers death.
It didn't turn really bad until my daughter was thrown out of her friend's apartment about 2 1/2 years ago. That's when the bad behavior escalated and my enabling patterns kicked into overdrive. Thankfully at around the same time I got into that Codependency recovery program and found this site. Previous to that time, my daughter had held her life together with a job, her own place and just enough sanity to stay afloat.
The worst day and the day I really began turning my own life around was about a year and a half ago when my daughter was in jail the first time. She had never been involved with the law before. Her life was a mess and while she was in jail I ran all over the county trying to get her car out of impound, paying all of her bills, calling people, getting her Dad involved (who after 3 phone calls from me, "washed his hands of her"), in other words while she was incarcerated, I took over her crazy life and tried to fix it all. It was totally overwhelming and impossible. The day I learned I couldn't get her car out of impound without these permission slips from my daughter which now involved numerous government agencies and a whole lot of time and money............I broke down in the car and couldn't stop crying. I also had a granddaughter at home who had just had all four of her wisdom teeth removed and needed me home!
As my SO and I were driving the hour drive to the County offices to handle all of this.........I was sobbing and he said, "this is like you and your daughter are in a sinking boat with holes in the bottom. You are frantically and relentlessly trying to empty the boat of water, while your daughter is calmly making new holes."
That comment broke through the fog I was living in. That was the truth of the situation in one sentence. That was the day I stopped. That was the turning point for me. I had reached MY bottom.
Now my daughter is back in jail. The difference between then and now is PROFOUND! I have done very little for her and only what felt right to me. She is respectful and grateful to me. We have rediscovered our love for each other throughout this crazy journey! Every part of our relationship has changed due to my setting boundaries and detaching from her choices and accepting not only the situation but accepting her for who she is. Accepting is not condoning. Accepting is realizing I have no control over any of it.
Whew!
tryagain
Active Member
This is an easy question for me. The day I KNEW it was bad was the day she bit my arm so hard that I had to seek medical help and have antibiotics. I had asked her to bring down a basket of laundry. Seriously. She refused and grabbed my car keys to go off to a movie. I said NO and followed her to my car. She cranked it and was backing out when I leaped inside and tried to grab the wheel - the bite came then. My husband, difficult child, and I headed to our family doctor who came within a hair's breadth of committing her, but then decided to let the psychiatric make that determination. The psychiatric decided on outpatient therapy. This was 5 years ago.
Even before all this, I, like so many of you, had many warning signs which I always was able to rationalize since difficult child had various issues such as ADHD, dyslexia, etc. I dismissed her fascination with horror movies and bloody stuff as fairly common nowadays, which is true. And I dismissed her cutting as copycat behavior from a friend who did it (which it partially was). And I dismissed her going around wearing black and a hooded sweatshirt (in 90 degree weather) as self-consciousness over her skin rash (which it partially was). Then I hoped that her huge lies and exaggerations were simply to seek attention (which they partially were).
Her eventual diagnosis of bipolar was the perfect definition of gestalt: the whole is greater than the sum of its parts. So many small signs, but until they merged to form a complete and frightening picture, I was able to find excuses and that ever-present hope that she would come around.
I've been bitten, hit, chased, threatened with a knife, and cursed out. I've also been hugged, loved, appreciated, and praised. Such is the life of the mom of a bipolar child.
About 3 weeks ago, many of you supported me when she overdosed and was in the p-hospital. Since then, she is TAKING HER medications (hello) and a sweet, delightful young lady. We still wonder if a lot of what she says is true, but right now, she's certainly much better than 3 weeks ago when she was trying to exit this life.
I'm not naive enough to think that this good stage will last forever. But I know this. I must let go, or be dragged. I must detach while simultaneously helping her get on her feet so she can move out. I must be an onlooker rather than an avid participant in her affairs. I must keep my boundaries (you CANNOT live here again) while allowing her to temporarily roost while prepping to launch (again).
Hardest of all...I must keep my expectations low while that beautiful, yet cruel and elusive temptor, Hope, lurks around in my mind trying to torture me....
Recoveringenabler, just read your post. I do relate to some of the feelings that you are experiencing with your difficult child. In some ways, I also sense that parts of our former relationship have healed as of the past weeks. But in true gestalt fashion, it is PARTS that have begun to attempt to heal. The whole picture won't ever be healed in the sense of the word that people without difficult children would call "healed", but relative to our situation, it's a vast improvement for the time being, anyway. And that's all we really have, right? The current moment - the "time being".
Hang in there, all. As Christopher Robin told Pooh, “Promise me you'll always remember: You're braver than you believe, and stronger than you seem, and smarter than you think.”
― A.A. Milne
Even before all this, I, like so many of you, had many warning signs which I always was able to rationalize since difficult child had various issues such as ADHD, dyslexia, etc. I dismissed her fascination with horror movies and bloody stuff as fairly common nowadays, which is true. And I dismissed her cutting as copycat behavior from a friend who did it (which it partially was). And I dismissed her going around wearing black and a hooded sweatshirt (in 90 degree weather) as self-consciousness over her skin rash (which it partially was). Then I hoped that her huge lies and exaggerations were simply to seek attention (which they partially were).
Her eventual diagnosis of bipolar was the perfect definition of gestalt: the whole is greater than the sum of its parts. So many small signs, but until they merged to form a complete and frightening picture, I was able to find excuses and that ever-present hope that she would come around.
I've been bitten, hit, chased, threatened with a knife, and cursed out. I've also been hugged, loved, appreciated, and praised. Such is the life of the mom of a bipolar child.
About 3 weeks ago, many of you supported me when she overdosed and was in the p-hospital. Since then, she is TAKING HER medications (hello) and a sweet, delightful young lady. We still wonder if a lot of what she says is true, but right now, she's certainly much better than 3 weeks ago when she was trying to exit this life.
I'm not naive enough to think that this good stage will last forever. But I know this. I must let go, or be dragged. I must detach while simultaneously helping her get on her feet so she can move out. I must be an onlooker rather than an avid participant in her affairs. I must keep my boundaries (you CANNOT live here again) while allowing her to temporarily roost while prepping to launch (again).
Hardest of all...I must keep my expectations low while that beautiful, yet cruel and elusive temptor, Hope, lurks around in my mind trying to torture me....
Recoveringenabler, just read your post. I do relate to some of the feelings that you are experiencing with your difficult child. In some ways, I also sense that parts of our former relationship have healed as of the past weeks. But in true gestalt fashion, it is PARTS that have begun to attempt to heal. The whole picture won't ever be healed in the sense of the word that people without difficult children would call "healed", but relative to our situation, it's a vast improvement for the time being, anyway. And that's all we really have, right? The current moment - the "time being".
Hang in there, all. As Christopher Robin told Pooh, “Promise me you'll always remember: You're braver than you believe, and stronger than you seem, and smarter than you think.”
― A.A. Milne
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Thanks Tryagain, you are so right in your assessment about healing relative to our situations. I used to jump all over the map, following her down every rabbit hole she leapt into. I changed, I don't do that anymore. As a result, my life is so much better now. Yes, all we have is now.
I loved the Pooh quote too, I am a fan of Winnie the Pooh and his friends.
Thankfully, we have each other Tryagain, such a solace to me.
bluebell
Well-Known Member
difficult child has been a challenge since birth, but there were two incidents when it 'sunk in'. The first was when he was around 12 and threw a major fit about something (I'm not even sure what) and punched holes in his walls. He's been in trouble ever since, but never aggressive towards us. Until this past August - and much like Signorina's difficult child - he became aggresive towards us and the dilated pupils (shark eyes I call them) scared the crap out of me. This was right before his 17th birthday. I too, cannot look at his pictures from even last year when he tried to go back to HS. The eyes are different now, I'm not even sure I have seen him smile around us. I know he does when he's with his peers, but with us he is a dark creature that scares me.
S
Signorina
Guest
I just want to say that I am reading these posts and almost wish the thread didn't exist. So much pain between us all... We wrote our experiences so matter of factly...
If I had read just 1 of these responses 4 years ago, I would have been horrified, maybe even unbelieving, I certainly would have thought this all was something that didn't happen to "normal" people and that there must be something terribly "wrong" with the parents/families and even that they shared some blame... And that certainly if the situations were nipped in the bud & handled properly it all could have been prevented ... HA! (That was my goal when I found this site, I was looking for the magic panacea)
Live and learn, love to my sisters-in-arms
I am so sorry we all felt this pain...
If I had read just 1 of these responses 4 years ago, I would have been horrified, maybe even unbelieving, I certainly would have thought this all was something that didn't happen to "normal" people and that there must be something terribly "wrong" with the parents/families and even that they shared some blame... And that certainly if the situations were nipped in the bud & handled properly it all could have been prevented ... HA! (That was my goal when I found this site, I was looking for the magic panacea)
Live and learn, love to my sisters-in-arms
I am so sorry we all felt this pain...
BusynMember
Well-Known Member
It's so frustrating when outsiders think we obviously are bad parents and aren't trying to get help, isn't it? My son was in therapy from age eight on and even was in a hospital at twelve. I never stopped looking for help for him, even up to his 20's. He had the advantage of a stay-at-home mom who helped at school and was very involved with all of his activities. Although he was always into gore and blood, nobody else in the family was and we never watched horror movies or talked about violence. He was never spanked.
None of my other kids were in any way violent.
Again, as I often say, walk in MY shoes, then tell me what you'd do...And if you have never raised a child as disturbed as mine, please don't respond to my posts because you could never get it.
None of my other kids were in any way violent.
Again, as I often say, walk in MY shoes, then tell me what you'd do...And if you have never raised a child as disturbed as mine, please don't respond to my posts because you could never get it.
