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.

Thank you for your visit to my blog.

If you are visiting for the first time.  Or maybe you are a return guest.  Thank you for your visit.  Please know that I am not formally trained in psychology, psychiatry or any mental health discipline.  I am a mother who has experienced the onset and early patterns of what I now know to be Bipolar with Borderline Personality Disorder and it's related nuances in my daughter.  I wanted to be a mother with all of my heart and soul.  When this little girl came into my world 19 years ago, I was a young mother and very dialed into her from the moment I first laid eyes on her.  I knew almost from birth there was something a little different about her.  But as a young, naive mother, I brushed those instincts aside..at least until they resurfaced with each stage of her development.

Some of you will be curious.  This blog is in fact very honest and real.  Please be respectful as this is not taboo and the subject of this blog is a real person just trying to thrive in this life just as we all are.  Mental illness is not to be taken lightly, and requires a great deal of maturity, compassion and patience of the care givers to deal with.  Maturity, compassion, dignity and respect is expected of those who sincerely wish to learn more about it.

My message for you is this.  If you find yourself with a child, sibling, friend or are in some way personally touched by what you read here.  Please know that you must not feel embarrassed to talk about it.  If you are a parent with a particularly challenging child, please seek professional, trained help for that child.  It is not fair to the child or to you and your family to simply push it aside.  Understand that it does not always mean that you must medicate your child.  If you've read this blog, you've seen my own struggles with medication.  I prefer a  more holistic approach to life.  In some situations, that is not what is best for the person in need.  You must put your own biases aside and realize that you should never be upset that your child needs medication, you should be more upset that your child did not get the treatment they really need to thrive in this life.  Your child deserves to experience the treatment necessary to help him/her to lead a happy, healthy, full and productive life.  These children/people need the ones who love them most to set them on the path they deserve to be on and the one intended for them.  These children/people have incredible gifts to give the world.  The opportunities are there for them to thrive.  Love your child by getting them the help they need and deserve.

My daughter is a living example of how the right help and perseverence can turn turmoil into tremendous success.  She is thriving in her life now.  She is an incredible force of life.  Don't think for a minute that it was easy or will be for you.  There is no one right solution.  We are all individuals wired differently.  It will be a long road.  But the most rewarding and enlightening one you will ever be on in your life.

Please feel free to comment or message me privately.

An Enigmatic Life / JULY 2012

It happens less often lately.  It comes up in casual conversation and always catching me off guard.  It’s taboo!  Or is it.  I think it’s not.  It’s just life.  Life for us anyway, living with bipolar and it’s many faces.  People, we are all so different from each other.  Some say, “I just want to be [normal].”  Why?  What in fact is so special about [normal]?  That’s right!  Nothing is special about normal!  My daughter says she doesn’t want to be [special].  Oh but you are.  You so very much are indeed.  And with the utter HELL raising you has put me through..I wouldn’t change a thing about you.  You, my darling daughter, you have awakened me in ways that never would’ve been possible without the trials of mothering you.  And your life has burned a path for you and has been branded on the memories and imaginations of countless individuals all along your mere 19 years.  With all the pain has come an intense joy and love that is indescribable.  I have feared for you..I have feared from you.  I have begged God to wrap His protective arms around you more times that I can begin to imagine.

I begin a casual conversation with someone.  Then the topic comes up about family dynamics.  The individual usually says something like, “I don’t speak much to my sister, she has bipolar disorder.” Or, “Our family struggles with dealing with my father’s depression.”  Then I promptly tell them they are not alone.  Every family has been touched in some way by some aspect of the psychiatric world even if medical treatment has never been sought.  I tell them my story.

It goes something like this;

“I understand where you are coming from.  My daughter was diagnosed with bipolar disorder at the age of 12.  Up to that time and since, we have sought treatment for her.  More specifically after the diagnosis, we found excellent, temporary residence care for her in order to fully understand her needs and for the specialist to determine the right combination of medication for her.  In May of 2010, we had a major set back.  Upon the undesired addition of a new boyfriend who was a few years older than our daughter and influencing her in very bad ways, she was Baker Acted into a mental health facility for a period of two weeks.  She was at that time in extreme danger.  And she was an extreme danger to her family.  We were forced to take further measures to protect ourselves from her and the unwelcome influences she brought about.  Upon her release two weeks later and at the tender age of seventeen, she ran away with the undesirable influence.  We continued to work the “system” and to work with local law enforcement to regain physical custody of our daughter to no avail.  The “system” was not set up at all to help parents.  It was only set up to help children in abusive environments.  She was treated as an adult at the age of seventeen and the boy flew under the laws for statutory rape due to his age being under the age of 24 in the state of Florida.  This child today has been out of the diabolical grips of the disgusting boy for more than a year now.  She is in college, and successfully holding down a job for almost one full year now.  How you ask?  What is the secret of her success?  Of our success with her?  I would hardly call it that at this point.  There is still a long road ahead of us.  She is still emotionally stunted a few years because of the trauma of her high school years.  Bipolar Disorder is not the same twice.  It manifests differently from person to person.  With my daughter, little annoyances to you or me, well to her they are sirens and she constantly looks to quiet the noise in her head and focus on getting through the day.   Getting through a class, holding onto her job, not making a cutting, out of nowhere comment to a friend.

I knew it to be so..long before a clinical psychologist sat me and my husband on his dark green, aged, leather sofa in his office in Atlanta, Georgia nearly seven years ago.   

An Introduction to the "Baker Act" / MAY 2010

First, I would like to say thank you so very much for taking a moment out of your busy life to spend a little time with me.  The past 18 years of my life with Lynn have been a an unending tide of turmoil and emotional highs and lows.  Like a symphony orchestra moving us with all it's deep, dramatic notes from intense, gripping emotion, into the playful dance of grace and peace.  A real life story, Lynn's emerging array of mental disorders have sent me into a path that has oftentimes left me alone and in deep despair.  Many days I cling literally to life, pushing away snares of evil, holding the comfort of the love and companionship of family and friends.


If you are reading this blog for the first time, to best understand the sequence, please click on "2007" on the right and scroll down to the bottom post entitled, "In the beginning..." then read from that post up.


Jeb, Lynn's new love interest, had pushed his way into her life and then into our family.  Smug, defiant, disrespectful, this young man was as mysterious as he was obvious.  Never a straight answer about his past or even his present for that matter.  He wouldn't or more likely, couldn't even look me in the eye.  He was amused about how he and his "buddies" would go down to the street in town where they knew or assumed street walkers frequented and pitch raw eggs at the women.  This is who Lynn chose to force on her family?  I injected questions into my conversations with Jeb; "Do you go to school?  Did you graduate high school?  If so when, where?  Where do you attend college?  What are you taking in college? Why do you have an arrest record?  Where do you live?  Who are your friends and what do they do?"  Every question was answered with lies, elaborate lies.  I wanted to believe at first because his presence in our lives seemed semi-permanent like a bad tattoo.  The answers to these questions would prove to be more profoundly twisted than the web of lies that were woven.  I was appalled that this young man was spending time with my daughter, that he was in my home and around my younger daughter.  I was annoyed and then I felt violated when he would blatantly ignore our rules of no visits during the school week.  Jeb would come to the house so frequently especially when my husband was out of town and then he would refuse to leave.  There was a history of abuse in the form of neglect and quite possibly more at play in Jeb's past.  There was an obvious cycle in motion that he had no choice but to repeat.


There was something bubbling up from the muck of deceit and defiance.  Lynn and Jeb formed a world all their own.  They bought into the fantasy.  It was difficult to discern, was it Jeb's influence on Lynn?  Or was he really a helpless victim who fell prey to her seductive and manipulative ways.  I almost felt sorry for him, but then I realized that he was feeding her manipulation without even really knowing exactly what he was creating.  I warned him that he was messing with something he couldn't possibly understand.  The grand fantasy that is so text book with BPD (borderline personality disorder) was centered on Jeb but he was really just a pawn, insignificant, yet undeniably culpable, he was the tool that was used by the manipulation that brews inside Lynn.


"I F****NG HATE YOU!!!!  I HATE MY FAMILY I WANT YOU ALL DEAD AND I HOPE YOU ALL ROT IN HELL!!  EVERY ONE OF YOU!!!  I KNOW HOW TO DO IT TOO!!!  I DON'T NEED OR WANT MY FAMILY ANYMORE!!!  I CAN DO EVERYTHING, HAVE EVERYTHING WITHOUT YOU!!!  IN FACT, I AM GOING TO BE UNBELIEVABLY RICH!!!  WHAT'S THE MATTER?  YOU *****!!!  YOU CAN'T EVEN SIT IN THE ROOM WITH ME...THAT'S RIGHT RUN AWAY.  LOOK AT THE WAY YOU MAKE ME ACT!!!  LOOK AT ME!!!  I LOOK LIKE I'M A CRAZY PERSON RIGHT NOW THANKS TO YOU!!!!"


Click...the handcuffs were snapped on.  The chief of police and two detectives escorted Lynn through the doors of the mental health hospital.  She was immediately placed in a level I unit.  It was a new facility, private, expensive.  She was placed deep within the facility, behind three sets of thick, double, bolted doors that only staff had the keys and codes to access.  There was a nice courtyard with a sand volleyball court..surrounded by a very tall, chain-link fence with triple razor wire spiraling like a fanciful necklace draped around the building.  The cafeteria was stocked with almost whatever the patients could imagine they would want to eat.


I later learned what the "Baker Act" means.  A mentally challenged person must present, in front of witnesses an imminent threat to herself or others.  The intake coordinator at the hospital said she fit the classic traits required to admit her for observation for at least three days.  Upon further evaluation, they determined her to be an imminent threat to me at the very least and then also to her younger sister.  They would not even allow me to see her for two full days.  They said she was behaving in a violent way and I was her target.  They administered Geodome.  She went to sleep and when she awoke with a start as she often does, she jumped out of bed, she passed out cold.  No food that day as she refused to eat and the Geodome, a very powerful drug overtook her small frame.  The nurses caught her before she hit the floor.  Then they called me with the update.  It sent a chill through me to think what she was experiencing..to think what she was capable of yet also so vulnerable.  I would later learn that her vulnerability was in large part due to her deep seated fear of being alone. (Reactive attachment.)  This side of her in the younger version manifested itself in the form of tantrums.  Now, she is turning into a young woman and the battle of her hormones with her chemical imbalances was more vicious, more intense and more threatening than ever before.

**The "Baker Act."   Involuntary Examination (FL Statute 394.463) Defined by the Florida Mental Health Act

[A person may be taken to a receiving facility for involuntary examination if there is reason to believe that he or she is mentally ill and because of his or her mental illness: (1a) The person has refused voluntary examination after conscientious explanation and disclosure of the purpose of the examination; or
(1b) The person is unable to determine for himself or herself whether examination is necessary; and

(2a) Without care or treatment, the person is likely to suffer from neglect or refuse to care for himself or herself; such neglect or refusal poses a real and present threat of substantial harm to his or her well-being; and it is not apparent that such harm may be avoided through the help of willing family members or friends or the provision of other services; or
(2b) There is a substantial likelihood that without care or treatment the person will cause serious bodily harm to himself or herself or others in the near future, as evidenced by recent behavior.

The Baker Act was considered by many persons around the country as landmark 

legislation at the time of its enactment.  The movement to deinstitutionalize 

persons from large mental hospitals back to their home communities became 

prominent since the 1970’s and many newer psychiatric medications have made 

it possible for persons to avoid or reduce the need for long-term hospitalization. 

Since the passage of the Act, the rights of individuals to live freely and without 

the same degree of deprivation of liberty has been more accepted by the public.  

The Baker Act has been continuously revised to recognize these trends and to 

protect the rights of persons with mental illnesses.]

**History of the Baker Act – It’s Development and Intent 

State of Florida Department of Children and Families Mental Health Program Office 

Florida’s Baker Act Website  – May 2002  http://www.dcf.state.fl.us/programs/samh/MentalHealth/laws/histba.pdf

###

When we were finally permitted to see her, she looked so pale and so thin.  I couldn't contain my emotion and I just hugged her and kissed her forehead.  I whispered in her ear just as I had done so often before when she was a baby, a toddler, a young child..."I love you my sweet girl."  The therapist assigned to her case sat stoic..her eyes almost appeared to be accusing me of something.  Lynn showed no emotion.  She sat down and fixed her gaze on me..just as stoic.  I don't know what to feel..do I feel sorry for myself that once again I am rejected by this daughter?  Do I feel sorry for her that she lacks any empathy at all for the pain she exacts on me so surgically?  Do I feel ashamed that in some way..many ways, I must've failed as her mother?  Helpless, self loathing..pitiful and unworthy.  These are the feelings that circle around in my own psyche.


Could I have possibly read up more on anything, everything that could be at play here to help her..to help me help her?  All the years of therapy, the many, many different doctors, social workers, teachers, family, friends, residential treatment schools.  All the university scientific position papers, studies..and countless hours deep in prayer...no answers...only more questions...


The psychiatrist at the mental health hospital where Lynn resided called me and my husband in for a meeting.  He told us that nothing out of her mouth was the truth at this time.  She was living in some wild fantasy and that she had, "...built a castle in the sky and she has bought it and moved into it."  He further told us that she was surrounded by people who were influencing her in very bad ways.  That he said with the path she was on, that she would more than likely be in jail or dead within two months.  There are few words that are more terrifying to a mother.  Devastatingly scared, I was determined to do everything I had to do to save her.  Even if it meant sacrificing myself in the process.


Lynn's  behavior continued to become more erratic.  Her attitude more defiant.  She began to have ideas that she never expressed before.  Ideas like that she didn't need or even want her family anymore.

Descension into Mania

If you are reading this blog for the first time, I will provide a brief summary to you.  To best understand the sequence, please click on "2007" and scroll down to the bottom post entitled, "In the beginning..." then read from that post up.

The life I live is surrounded by family members who live in a personal torment of various personality disorders centered around Borderline Personality Disorder.  This devastating condition has it's grips on my oldest daughter.  I live with the manipulation, the anger and the uncertainty of this condition every day.  My husband and younger daughter are also affected.

It has been a little more than two years since I have checked in with you...so much to tell...so much chaos..then calm..followed by the worst two weeks of my life. I just experienced pain and torment I wish on no other human being much less a mother.

I'll take you back to the spring of 2008. Lynn had just come home from boarding school to learn that the family will be transferred...yet again...and we are going back to Orlando, Florida.

A recent written account of the mental anguish this caused Lynn was found in her room. I was there sorting through the chaos that had collected in her drawers, under her bed, on bookshelves, and inside containers and compartments. She places things significant and otherwise in a random pattern throughout her room...her space whether that be her room or her bags. The shifting pattern of her personal effects weave a subtle story about the workings of her mind...a map of the daily inconveniences and little victories of a beautiful young lady with an emerging discovery of personality disorders.

The following is an excerpt from a paper she wrote for a college English class while dual enrolled in High School.

October 2009:

The title of the paper is: "Pill By Useless Pill"

[The stress of moving at first was extremely subtle; only because I thoroughly enjoyed starting over and creating a new feel for myself and my surroundings. However, as I grew older and friendships seemed to mean more to me, moving got harder. Making new friendships wasn't as easy as it had always been. I found myself in a hole of misery from overwhelming stress, and it had washed over me and my life like an unending inconvenience.

I would have to establish all new friendships and then mere weeks or months later, the brown boxes would pile in the front door of my home and just as quickly they were carried right back out to venture to the next house that I ideally would call my home. From the age of six weeks old to now, I have moved a grand total of eleven times. Each move was special in it's own extent. ....Being on medication brought me down further into despair. It seemed as if my anxiety medication wasn't working to it's fullest. So instead of one, I started taking two. Two little, white pills once a week turned into two pills every two days. Finally, I was to the point of taking two pills a day. I felt like I could not handle the emotional stress of not having friends due to my lack of interest in being in a specific place. It seemed unfair that I had to be in such an imposition when everything in my life was just as it should have been. My previous coping methods were non-existent as I swallowed multiple pills each day.

My insecurities brought out the absolute worst in my personality. I pushed away the friends I had in [the last location we resided] because I figured that if I were never to see them for a long while, what was the point in even talking to them? I needed a friend then and there, not then and elsewhere. I went from a happy, energetic, loving and caring person to a negative, insecure and extremely unsatisfied kid.]
~LB

This is a note I found in her room carefully drafted on a single sheet of white paper:

"The truth that many people never understand, until it's too late, is that the more you try to avoid suffering, the more you suffer, because smaller and more insignificant things begin to torture you in proportion to your fear of being hurt."
~LB

Lynn wrote the above in crayon. She used two different colors. The bold and colored words above were drawn over multiple times...like they were shaking on the page...

As for the paper she wrote, entitled, "Pill By Useless Pill", I can see the hidden truths and a glimpse into her psychye. Some of her paper was obviously exaggerated and she would more than likely agree that it is...however, there are some very deep truths that dive into the torment and mental anguish she experiences with her Bipolar/Borderline mind. There is a deep seated trauma that exists in her brain. Only she can reconcile this trauma while I as her mother must stand by and watch her suffer...helplessly.  Her traumas stem from what most of us would consider normal life challenges.  But for Lynn's brain, the events seared into her psyche causing residual damage not even she can comprehend.

We as a family would experience a brief period of a semblance of calm and normalcy peppered with brief and somewhat normal, teenage outbursts, lasting from September 2008 through June 2009.  Beginning July 2009..everything would change for us..forever.

Papa was very ill and very likely imminently dying.  Papa, my father, played a very integral part in Lynn's life.  A very early bond formed between these two from Lynn's infancy.  That bond was sealed upon my divorce from Lynn's father when she was just 12 months old.  Lynn became like my father's baby.  A unique connection between them began to form and then grew through the years.  As the struggles with Lynn and her many disorders became more and more challenging, their relationship strengthened.  When I went to my father for help and advice about my ongoing struggles raising Lynn, he was quick to blame me and only me, calling into question my mothering frequently.  The self doubt and deep wounds of self loathing as her mother stabbed at me with his remarks.

Papa fell very ill with the discovery that his bladder cancer metastasized to reveal itself as a large tumor in his liver.  My father turned 80 in September and left this world on October 24, 2009.  The loss was beyond devastating to me personally..the affects on Lynn were shattering.

The call came mid summer 2009.  It was the voice of my father at the end of the phone line.  "They have found a spot on my liver..it's nothing really..just a spot..I'll be fine."  He always said, "I'll be fine.."  He was not fine and the next few days turned into weeks of watching the cancer slowly and very insistently take the life of my father.  With this loss I was left hollow and knowing that there would now be a void, a piece of me forever gone that would never be filled.  It took my breath away, I have now lost a very great love of my life.  The man responsible for bringing me into existence is now no longer in his physical body.  How can my life go on without him?  How can the electrical impulses in my body continue to fire and breath life into my soul without this man, my father?

It was shortly after the death of my father that I learned that Lynn's own, biological father made contact with her.  Many years earlier, he had hired an attorney and signed a witnessed statement that he wanted to relinquish his rights and terminate child support.  He contacted her through Facebook.  He proceeded to tell Lynn that he left me, her mother, the woman who had raised her, for another woman during a series of affairs he conducted throughout our marriage.  What sort of a person tells this to a 16-year-old young lady?  And after more than 15 years of abandonment?  Lynn suffered deeply from this revelation mostly because she was disappointed in the person he is.  She asked him, in writing to leave her alone permanently.

As if all of these devastating life blows weren't enough for a young girl, especially one who already suffers from her own brand of self doubt and self loathing...Lynn begins to bring into the fold new, more dangerous behaviors and her attitude shifted.

January 2010..Lynn had a new love interest in her life.."Jeb."  Jeb initially entered the picture June 2009.  As her mother, I quickly nipped this new interest in the bud and forbid her to see him.  I told this young man to stay away from my daughter, my family and my property.  My instincts told me he was bad news...my instincts never fail me.  By Christmas time, Lynn was sneaking around meeting this young man.  What has she injected into our lives this time?  Jeb would introduce a poison into our family that would have a devastating impact and would permanently alter our family dynamic.  Innocently enough..I feel that perhaps somewhere deep in his diabolical mind he knew..but lay victim in his own illusions.

It was an infiltration through the mind, body and psyche of our Lynn that would rock the foundation of who we are as a family and result in a grave unfathomable loss.

Lynn suffered extreme stress from the pressure the demands of the bad boyfriend, the demands of her work as Design Editor of the award winning yearbook for her high school and a new job.  The side of her that was raised by a loving family with guidelines and boundaries wreaked havoc inside her with the boyfriend who was telling her that parents, the police, her teachers basically anyone in an authoritative position are "stupid".  For someone who suffers from the challenges Lynn faces, the pressure was too much.  The descent into the manic phase she experienced as a result was sad and was avoidable.  The people that come into her life and then fall under her spell fail to see who she really is and how to help her.  Unfortunately, it will be a pattern that will be repeated as she moves into adulthood.

The next blog entry will outline in detail the drama that unfolded in the next several months that involved not only our infamous, Windermere Police but also a lock down mental health facility, court appearances and a permanent no trespass against Jeb.  The course of Lynn's life takes a turn that cannot be undone.