I May Be a Train Wreck; But Train Wrecks Always Make The Front Page

My daughter has Bipolar Disorder .. my daughter has Bipolar Disorder but Bipolar Disorder does NOT have my daughter. The years have not been easy, but together, my daughter and I have managed to get on top of this beast and we control it. It no longer controls us.

I really just began to discover this new phenomena. As I have watched this sweet, innocent infant grow into a sweet, inquisitive young child, into a very busy and challenging girl, a defiant teenager and now a gorgeous, vibrant and joyful, young lady. I see this creature, one of pure beauty unfold before my eyes.  Her beauty runs deep.  Lynn is so incredible and so uniquely herself. Not influenced by others. She moves to her own beat and commands so much attention naturally. You can’t encounter her without feeling something, in some way has just happened to you. I cannot even imagine this world without her.

Lynn has a light that emanates from her soul. It has always been there. But never has is presented in the way it now does. Those close to me tell me I did a good job raising her. Ha! If they only knew that I was struggling so hard to fix this..to fix her. I made so many mistakes. But I just kept telling her I love her no matter what. Even when I was so mad I felt like screaming; and often did. I told her I love her from the depths of my soul and there was nothing she could ever do to change that. My love; a mother’s love. Love that always is, never changing and unconditional. Yet, at the same time I felt that her all consuming personality with all it’s demands would surely consume me. So many times I thought/prayed/pleaded, dear God, help us, one of us is going to untimely leave this world. I just feared something tragic would happen to her or to me during one of those really passionate times. Or that an accident would just take one of us at random and all of this business would change. Abruptly. Forever.

Just as a sweet, simple, little sailing boat tossed about by the mighty sea, the moorings coming loose; without warning, Lynn would slip into a state of pure anger with irrational reasonings. Efforts to contain her emotional outbursts when she was two were difficult and so heart wrenching for an inexperienced young mother. When she got a little older it was pure terror.

There seems to be an alternate world I live in. It feels that way. Like I live my life on a different plane of time and space than everyone else. That my loved ones revolve carefully around my psyche. Like an intricate dance of a Shakespearean play. The protagonist was really not Lynn..was it? Was it really me and everyone was involved in this elaborate dance; this cover up to protect the delicate balance of my world? All of the struggles, the therapists, the doctors, the medications, was that all to protect a fragile spirit that was really me? Sometimes, the two of us are so interchangeable that I feel it is all happening to me..for me. It is not something I control yet I’ve learned the dance so well. I know all the correct steps that protagonist and antagonist have now melded into one.

And we are back, in the psychiatrist office, talking with the doctor about how the past few months have been. Mood changes, problems with different relationships.  Explaining how Lynn feels, if there has been any significant change in her behavior.  New prescriptions for refills on the same meds with some  slight changes in dosages.  A check in call with her regular therapist and then back to living life again.

My daughter has Bipolar Disorder and she is a fabulous, loving and inspiring human being.  I am honored, privileged and well, downright lucky to be her mother, the one who raised her, loves her and has her as a very important part of my life.

Weighing in on the Newtown, CT Tragedy

My initial reaction was that of a mother.  A deep sense of loss and sorrow.  My heart breaking for those parents, and families who lost that day.  I can’t begin to imagine the depth of the grief.

My very next reaction was that I wanted to scream from the top of a building.  I wanted so much to be heard.  I use this blog as my forum to state my perspective based on years of experience as a mother raising a child diagnosed with behavioral disorders.

I heard it yet again, innocent comments.  Comments from people in the community that have no way at all to begin to appreciate what it takes to parent a child with behavioral disorders.  These people say things like, “these people just need more discipline.  They need a strong parent who will be stern with them.”  I just cringe, this is such an innocent statement, especially coming from someone who really just has no idea.  It is much, much more complicated than that.  When you are parenting a child who is unaffected by any and all forms of discipline, no amount of “sternness” or “strong parenting” will be successful.  You must enlist the help of trained mental health professionals.  Then begin the years of tireless and repetitive interaction in a very specific way with that child.  No stern voice, no amount of “time out”, no consequence is going to affect the behavior your child needs to exhibit to be successful in his/her relationships.

People are so quick to judge.  So quick to call the shooter “evil”.  Yes, the act was evil.  But remember, the shooter was human just as you and I are.  The shooter obviously had many things going on with him that needed serious attention.  Where was the help for him?  How does this American society so intently dismiss these individuals?  There is a void in our system.  At which point in time in our history did we begin to simply ignore the needs of these unique individuals?  We are now being forced to see them.  But unfortunately, we are labeling them as demonic and evil.  That is because evil has been allowed to seep into them through our lack of compassion.  The demons have been permitted their reign over them because we refuse to reach out, to get them help; to provide the help, the system, the education, a safe place for them to heal.

There needs to be residential treatment for all of these individuals.  Something that is provided through special funding, charitable donations, etc.  A safe place, one that is non-threatening to them.  There needs to be one of these in every major city throughout our country.  The stigma of mental illness needs to be minimized because a very large percentage of our population lives daily with some form of mental illness.

If we as an American society continue to ignore these people, if we continue to move about our lives and continue to allow them to fall between the cracks, we will continue to experience a great deal of pain for it.

WAKE UP!!!!  These horrific acts are designed to get our attention so that we may come together as a society, enact the change we need to see in the world and prepare a place to get help, guidance, love and support for those among us who suffer so greatly in silence.

As for the mother of the shooter.  I understand her struggle.  However, I am deeply, disappointed that she would introduce firearms into the situation.  This was ignorant and irresponsible on her part.  If she wanted to have firearms at her property, it was imperative that they be stored in a manner that only she could access them.  But with a child, an adult, or any person who resides at the property that has been diagnosed with or exhibits any form of mental instability, it should have never been brought to his attention that firearms were even present on the property.  People with mental instability, even under the best of circumstances when they are stable, can be suddenly unpredictable.  This mother should have known better.  She let her guard down and paid the price first with her own life and then with the lives of many, innocent others.  She had a responsibility to society with this son of hers.  She had a duty and obligation to make sure that in every way she possibly could to protect her son from himself, and in turn to protect society from him.  The local law enforcement should've been aware of his condition.  There should've been a family therapist involved, and much more...

This goes back to my earlier point that MORE education, MORE guidance for mentally unstable individuals in a safe and non-threatening way is desperately needed or I am afraid .. we will all continue to suffer.

The Pretty Little Girl, With the Pretty Little Curl ...

From the time I was a little girl, I always wanted a daughter. My mother would hold me in her lap and sing, "pretty little girl, with a pretty little curl .. right in the middle of her forehead." That motherly lap was warm, soft, so loving. It was a safe place and my relationship with my mother was sweet and special. She was my best friend. More than that, she was a lady I trusted, respected and the thought that anything I said or did ever hurting her in any way was something that would rock me to my core.

It began very young really. Painfully, I became a single mother when my baby girl was just 13 months old. I was forced to have to put her into day care while I worked. I moved near my mother and father and had their help as much as they could. I first noticed Lynn was being treated differently than the other children at the home-based day care. My mother first pointed this out to me. My mother helped me out by picking Lynn up for me when I had to work late. Or, I would ask my mother to go and get Lynn so that she wouldn't have to be stuck in a day care environment so much. My mother pointed out to me that every time she went to pick Lynn up from day care, Lynn was the only child sitting, strapped in a high chair while the other children were permitted to run around and play.  The thought of this occurring with my sweet, young child hit me in my gut. My mother picked Lynn up at various times of the day and noted this on several occasions. I too began to notice that this was occurring and questioned the woman running the day care. She explained to me that Lynn was very hard to manage and this was how she could secure her safety.

I immediately withdrew Lynn from this environment and moved her to another facility that was NOT in someone's home.

I think back now ... and I understand that intricate pattern that is who Lynn is. Why couldn't I have been given a guide book at her birth. One that would help me protect her from people and situations like this. One that provided sources for environments that would have been more conducive to her needs?

Lynn was a very active, busy little girl. Always singing and dancing around. From the time she was 6 months old and began to speak words, she never stopped. She was a constant source of companionship and entertainment for me. We sang every song we heard and even made up a few of our own. Nineteen years later..we are still singing our songs together.