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Feeling Sad---Son is Homeless
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<blockquote data-quote="Feeling Sad" data-source="post: 668232" data-attributes="member: 19245"><p>SWOT, in my parents' defense, they were probably feeling over-whelmed. Back then, there was even a larger stigma attached to schizophrenia. They did not want to tell the neighbors the truth in case she got better. As I child, I felt deserted and I grew up very quickly. I was on my own. </p><p></p><p>My ill sister and I shared a very large room with a foldable wall in between. She would tell me that she had the large Butcher knife from the kitchen and I would run to my parents room to tell them. They would say, "You know that she is not really going to kill you." I would go back to my room and my sister would say, "They didn't believe you did they?" and then laugh this fiendish laugh. My parents used to speak to her about laughing "appropriately".</p><p></p><p>I turned all of my dressers around towards the wall, roped off my closet, and tried to glue the foldable wall shut...to no avail. My sister had received ongoing care...mental hospitals, medication, special schools, and even electro-shock therapy. I never recommend electro-shock therapy to anyone. It did not help my sister and my sister permanently lost a lot of her long-term memories.</p><p></p><p>My mother thought that she was possessed and read her the Bible all day. My father, who was a genius, saw her as beyond hope because she was 'flawed'. He would agree with all of her delusions so that she would give him a back rub. Her worst delusion was that she had octuplets that my mother had taken away.</p><p></p><p>It is just very difficult to heal after having your life threatened for over 50 years. Yes, I know that I did not deserve it and that it was/is not their fault. I have major PTSD. My sister would threaten me with large knives and scissors. My first husband threatened to slit my throat, would clean his guns and threaten to "blow me away" and then set the house on fire, and hire a hit man. My ill son threatened to cut my face up, poison me, smother me in my sleep, stuck a jagged bottle towards my throat, and lastly, argued with his voices about not wanting to kill me. Those are just the specific threats. Many others were just...I am going to kill you. I guess...not "just".</p><p></p><p>I forced myself to read actual cases of schizophrenic sons killing their mothers because I was trying to force myself not to numb out anymore. Yes...it was not good for me, but I needed to do it. I needed to face reality. I was in true danger before. ..and I STILL am, sadly. The scary thing is that paranoid schizophrenics overkill. They stab 54, 72, etc.times. I am not trying to demonize them. I read many, many actual cases. The voices tell them to because they are told that their mother is the devil, has demons, is a spy, and on and on.</p><p></p><p>My first husband was a sociopath, I found out later, before being in the war. As a child, he kicked his own dog until it coughed up blood. After I divorced him he stalked me and harassed me.</p><p></p><p>My second himself I though was a safe choice...He was not violent. He realized over time that he had a shallow affect, little empathy. When I came home from the hospital after having my brain tumor removed, I sat up and had no feeling on my right side. I walked to his office and told him. He just looked at the screen at the video he was editing and said to just give him a minute. I walked across the house. I was scared to death! He eventually came to the doorway of the bedroom. I asked him where was the phone? He said, "Oh, you want the phone?.." He then left and when he returned he said, "Who should we call?" I took the phone with the hand that I could feel and started to call the hospital emergency room. The room was dark and the hallway light was on. I thought that I was having a stroke, which you can have after a craniotomy. But it was a simple partial seizure...The type you stay awake during. Flashing lights exacerbate seizures. He stood in the door way and rocked. It caused the light to be blocked, then not blocked...like flashing lights. I did not know why, but I knew that it was making me feel much worse. While I was on the phone I said, "Stop rocking". He yelled, "I'm not rocking!" I looked up...and he had walked out of the house! I cannot tell you how that felt to me!</p><p></p><p>When I came home the second time from the hospital, they had let me out early because it was Christmas Eve. They told us that it might not be long enough for the seizure medications to completely kick in and to return immediately if I had another seizure. At home, I was lying in bed and my husband was stressing me out because he could not find where he had put his mother's gift that I had purchased. He then told me that I had better hurry if I was going to their house. I quickly took a shower. My head and large incision over my titanium plate could not get wet. The stress brought on another seizure. My entire right side could not feel the water or anything. My middle son saw my face when I came out of the bathroom. I said that I was having another one. I sat on my bed. We were all in the same room. Three times he asked my husband, "Don't you think we should take her back to the hospital?" Three times my husband said, "That's okay...she doesn't need to come tonight". My son walked me gently to the family room and talked to me calmly. Just then...I looked up. From way across the house, I could see him leaving with my youngest son and all of the gifts...that I had bought. He never asked ne how I was once! I was still having my seizure... My son's car was overheating, but I told him that it was okay. He could drive my van and take me to the hospital. My son said, "I can't...He took your van".</p><p></p><p>I stayed for 1 more year, with much of the same type of lack of empathy. He was also a sociopath...just not violent. Or perhaps, Asperges. I have been told both. I went to therapy that last year. He never would.</p><p></p><p>I am so sorry, New Leaf, that you do not know your daughter's whereabouts. It is sheer torture as a mother, to deal with this. To not being able to hardly recognize her when she did turn up must have been truly heart-breaking. I have nightmares about my son, and he looks different in my dreams. </p><p></p><p>Copa, you always find the words to help me. I love your line...."two can play at this"! Touché. Adopted child or not, you are going through the very same torture. Yes, it only adds exponentially to your/our ache when they have a life threatening illness that they refuse, for whatever reason, to address.</p><p></p><p>Being the parent of a very troubled child is horrible because of not knowing how they are doing and that it never seems to end. We ache and ache. I cannot detach. I feel that he needs me... He does, but I had to kick him out for our safety. Others on this site, hear from their children at least on the phone or FB. I won't. I have a restraining order that prohibits it. Even without it, my son has only used the phone twice in 9 years! People might be spying on him, he thinks. My pain is not worse...just slightly different. Torture is sadly...torture. </p><p></p><p>My heart goes out to all of the parents on this site. At IEP meetings I meet sad parents trying to come to grips with their child's disability, whether cognitive or psychological, or both. Believe me, I am always on the side of the parents. In private, I inform them specifically of their rights and fight, in a politically acceptable manner, for their child to receive all of the support services they need. I have to write the IEP properly in order to receive full services and hours of support. In middle school, I volunteered in pediatrics at the hospital as a candy striper, tutored at an elementary school, and volunteered at convalescent homes. In college, I worked on the helpline and saved a life. In grad school I worked in contact with protective services on child abuse and neglect cases. I save 4 more lives. I have always wanted to help...I am just tired now. Now, when students have a 40 minute melt-down...I am still patient, but it is more difficult. Yes, I love teaching and it is very rewarding. But, I need to heal. Hopefully, I will be able to over time.</p><p></p><p>Warm hugs to all. May you all find peace of mind. May your children stay safe and make healthy choices.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Feeling Sad, post: 668232, member: 19245"] SWOT, in my parents' defense, they were probably feeling over-whelmed. Back then, there was even a larger stigma attached to schizophrenia. They did not want to tell the neighbors the truth in case she got better. As I child, I felt deserted and I grew up very quickly. I was on my own. My ill sister and I shared a very large room with a foldable wall in between. She would tell me that she had the large Butcher knife from the kitchen and I would run to my parents room to tell them. They would say, "You know that she is not really going to kill you." I would go back to my room and my sister would say, "They didn't believe you did they?" and then laugh this fiendish laugh. My parents used to speak to her about laughing "appropriately". I turned all of my dressers around towards the wall, roped off my closet, and tried to glue the foldable wall shut...to no avail. My sister had received ongoing care...mental hospitals, medication, special schools, and even electro-shock therapy. I never recommend electro-shock therapy to anyone. It did not help my sister and my sister permanently lost a lot of her long-term memories. My mother thought that she was possessed and read her the Bible all day. My father, who was a genius, saw her as beyond hope because she was 'flawed'. He would agree with all of her delusions so that she would give him a back rub. Her worst delusion was that she had octuplets that my mother had taken away. It is just very difficult to heal after having your life threatened for over 50 years. Yes, I know that I did not deserve it and that it was/is not their fault. I have major PTSD. My sister would threaten me with large knives and scissors. My first husband threatened to slit my throat, would clean his guns and threaten to "blow me away" and then set the house on fire, and hire a hit man. My ill son threatened to cut my face up, poison me, smother me in my sleep, stuck a jagged bottle towards my throat, and lastly, argued with his voices about not wanting to kill me. Those are just the specific threats. Many others were just...I am going to kill you. I guess...not "just". I forced myself to read actual cases of schizophrenic sons killing their mothers because I was trying to force myself not to numb out anymore. Yes...it was not good for me, but I needed to do it. I needed to face reality. I was in true danger before. ..and I STILL am, sadly. The scary thing is that paranoid schizophrenics overkill. They stab 54, 72, etc.times. I am not trying to demonize them. I read many, many actual cases. The voices tell them to because they are told that their mother is the devil, has demons, is a spy, and on and on. My first husband was a sociopath, I found out later, before being in the war. As a child, he kicked his own dog until it coughed up blood. After I divorced him he stalked me and harassed me. My second himself I though was a safe choice...He was not violent. He realized over time that he had a shallow affect, little empathy. When I came home from the hospital after having my brain tumor removed, I sat up and had no feeling on my right side. I walked to his office and told him. He just looked at the screen at the video he was editing and said to just give him a minute. I walked across the house. I was scared to death! He eventually came to the doorway of the bedroom. I asked him where was the phone? He said, "Oh, you want the phone?.." He then left and when he returned he said, "Who should we call?" I took the phone with the hand that I could feel and started to call the hospital emergency room. The room was dark and the hallway light was on. I thought that I was having a stroke, which you can have after a craniotomy. But it was a simple partial seizure...The type you stay awake during. Flashing lights exacerbate seizures. He stood in the door way and rocked. It caused the light to be blocked, then not blocked...like flashing lights. I did not know why, but I knew that it was making me feel much worse. While I was on the phone I said, "Stop rocking". He yelled, "I'm not rocking!" I looked up...and he had walked out of the house! I cannot tell you how that felt to me! When I came home the second time from the hospital, they had let me out early because it was Christmas Eve. They told us that it might not be long enough for the seizure medications to completely kick in and to return immediately if I had another seizure. At home, I was lying in bed and my husband was stressing me out because he could not find where he had put his mother's gift that I had purchased. He then told me that I had better hurry if I was going to their house. I quickly took a shower. My head and large incision over my titanium plate could not get wet. The stress brought on another seizure. My entire right side could not feel the water or anything. My middle son saw my face when I came out of the bathroom. I said that I was having another one. I sat on my bed. We were all in the same room. Three times he asked my husband, "Don't you think we should take her back to the hospital?" Three times my husband said, "That's okay...she doesn't need to come tonight". My son walked me gently to the family room and talked to me calmly. Just then...I looked up. From way across the house, I could see him leaving with my youngest son and all of the gifts...that I had bought. He never asked ne how I was once! I was still having my seizure... My son's car was overheating, but I told him that it was okay. He could drive my van and take me to the hospital. My son said, "I can't...He took your van". I stayed for 1 more year, with much of the same type of lack of empathy. He was also a sociopath...just not violent. Or perhaps, Asperges. I have been told both. I went to therapy that last year. He never would. I am so sorry, New Leaf, that you do not know your daughter's whereabouts. It is sheer torture as a mother, to deal with this. To not being able to hardly recognize her when she did turn up must have been truly heart-breaking. I have nightmares about my son, and he looks different in my dreams. Copa, you always find the words to help me. I love your line...."two can play at this"! Touché. Adopted child or not, you are going through the very same torture. Yes, it only adds exponentially to your/our ache when they have a life threatening illness that they refuse, for whatever reason, to address. Being the parent of a very troubled child is horrible because of not knowing how they are doing and that it never seems to end. We ache and ache. I cannot detach. I feel that he needs me... He does, but I had to kick him out for our safety. Others on this site, hear from their children at least on the phone or FB. I won't. I have a restraining order that prohibits it. Even without it, my son has only used the phone twice in 9 years! People might be spying on him, he thinks. My pain is not worse...just slightly different. Torture is sadly...torture. My heart goes out to all of the parents on this site. At IEP meetings I meet sad parents trying to come to grips with their child's disability, whether cognitive or psychological, or both. Believe me, I am always on the side of the parents. In private, I inform them specifically of their rights and fight, in a politically acceptable manner, for their child to receive all of the support services they need. I have to write the IEP properly in order to receive full services and hours of support. In middle school, I volunteered in pediatrics at the hospital as a candy striper, tutored at an elementary school, and volunteered at convalescent homes. In college, I worked on the helpline and saved a life. In grad school I worked in contact with protective services on child abuse and neglect cases. I save 4 more lives. I have always wanted to help...I am just tired now. Now, when students have a 40 minute melt-down...I am still patient, but it is more difficult. Yes, I love teaching and it is very rewarding. But, I need to heal. Hopefully, I will be able to over time. Warm hugs to all. May you all find peace of mind. May your children stay safe and make healthy choices. [/QUOTE]
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