The one where mommy goes nutty

I know my last few blog posts have been horrendously depressing and whiny, and unfortunately this one is probably also going to take that tone too. Things have been bad for me in the last six months. It started back in late August, and reached all kinds of nastiness. Then things calmed down, and I was ok. Then it all started back up again two months ago.

I'd wake up and have to physically force myself out of bed, while dreading what the day would bring. More stress, more anxiety. I'd take care of the kids and roll through my day feeling like I'm floating above everyone else, just an observer rather than a participant in anything I'm doing. It feels like there is an invisible barrier that would keep me from accomplishing anything. I'd go out to get laundry and just stand there on the carport for 15 minutes, then go inside and do nothing. I'd finally get some of it done, but really, very little was actually being accomplished. All I really wanted to do was sleep. There is no sadness in sleep, and no anxiety. It's quiet and peaceful.

The anxiety is crippling. Every morning I wake up with that feeling of dread in the pit of my stomach, waiting for whatever bad thing is going to happen next. I sit in my classes and shake and my heart pounds and I try to hold back the panic attack crap as much as I can. It's pathetic.

On the 20th of March, I got a call from the Easter Seals employee who handles Jaymes' foster care placement. He said that complaints had been made about Jaymes supposedly coming home dirty from his visits home, and supposedly showing some aggression when coming back from home. He (very cheerfully) informed me that they were going to make a call in to Child Protective Services. Now, I've dealt with CPS before- any of us with a special needs child seem to get that. But this time the allegations were so frivolous, and were taken so seriously by CPS. A whole bunch of crazy. Jaymes is a boy. If he is with me and plays outside, he will get dirty. We send him back clean, but I don't sanitize him head to toe first. Another complaint was that his shoes were on the wrong feet. Ironically, last time Jaymes was delivered to us for a visit, his shoes were once again on the wrong feet. Not a CPS worthy complaint.

Anyway, back to the point. The 20th had not been a good day. I'd had car issues, Sierra had gotten a note home (first time in her life, I was shocked), and then I got the call from Easter Seals... That was the straw that broke the camels back, and the depression and anxiety won out for the rest of the day. I had Klonopin for the anxiety, and I took several. Didn't feel better an hour later, so took a handful more. Still didn't feel better, finished off the bottle. Then Jason called me and I apparently sounded really bad. He interrogated me until I told him about the pills, at which time he ordered me to call my doctor (who has been amazing in trying to get me out of the hole I was in) and tell him what I took and how much. I called the doctor, who told me that he needed to call an ambulance and to stay on the line with his nurse until the ambulance arrived. At that point, I took another bottle of pills, I guess I figured if I had overdosed, might as well go the rest of the way. Not logical, I honestly don't know what I was thinking at the time.

The ambulance arrived right as I was getting really fuzzy. I remember being loaded into it (with half the neighborhood gawking), and from there I was in and out of consciousness. I don't remember the ride there, arriving at the hospital, or anything else up until being made to drink a big cup of charcoal (horrible stuff. Truly horrible). I remember that pretty darn well, as nasty as it was. I guess that beats having your stomach pumped though.

Apparently I refused to let Jason come back to see me. He was all freaking out and I don't remember even being told he was there. I lost a lot of time that day and the next- I was just too out of it to make sense of anything.

I stayed at the ER overnight, because there were no beds at any of the hospitals with psych units available. I had a babysitter in my room to make sure I didn't off myself in the hospital. she was actually very sweet. The next day I got loaded up into a police car for my trip to Forsyth hospital's psych unit. I did not enjoy that at all.

I spent a week at Forsyth, in which time they did nothing and probably charged me thousands of dollars. They made no medication changes, and their groups were totally useless junk. Not a good program at all. I behaved myself and spent the week watching TV and coloring in coloring books. I couldn't really decide whether to be thrilled that they had coloring stuff, or to be offended by being an adult getting offered coloring stuff. I drew a lot of rainbow unicorns. My fellow nuthouse folks enjoyed my rainbow unicorns. Apparently they are uplifting.

I never really figured out what I was trying to do taking all those pills. the Klonopin, I honestly did not realize how many I was taking. The rest was just a bad impulsive thing I guess. The doctors treated it like a suicide attempt, but I wasn't sure still whether that was it or not. I would think that if I'd wanted to die, I would not have called the doctor. Jason wouldn't have been home for hours more, it would have worked. I didn't do that though.

When I came home, I was still incredibly depressed. The stress over Jaymes and the idiotic CPS report was really crushing me. Jason babysat me, and took all the meds away. He's still doling out my meds daily for me. Probably a good thing.

The following Friday, we had a CFT meeting with the foster parents, the Easter Seals staff, and the CPS worker. The meeting was beyond horrible. The foster parents came in all upset and loud, despite none of us having said anything yet. We tried to start the meeting out, but it immediately turned into my husband talking and the foster parents yelling at us and practically coming across the table at Jason. Lots of "you're never there, you don't know Jaymes, you don't act like a dad" (because Jason works and we have CFT meetings in the middle of the day!) stuff- very ugly and unwarranted. From there on out, every time he or I would say a word, we'd be interrupted by the screaming and yelling.

We were called bad parents, inconsistent, careless... I've never had to sit in a meeting and have hateful things flung at me like at this meeting. It was so bad. Nothing was accomplished, and in the end one of the foster parents walked out and would not come back in. Everyone gave up at that point. There wasn't anywhere we could go with all that chaos.

I left crying like an idiot, Jason had to drive us home. It depressed me so much. I had an emergency meeting with my therapist that day. We talked about it, and she asked me if I was suicidal. I kind of surprised myself here, my answer was very simple- no confusion in my head there. "Yep. If I had the pills, I would not hesitate." But I knew Jason had the pills locked up, so it seemed like I would be pretty much fine, given that I couldn't get to the meds. My therapist had me texting in daily to make sure I was ok.

I feel ok now. I don't have the overwhelming panic and depression like before. Suicide isn't in my head anymore. Jason still has the pills, which I think is wise regardless of how I feel right now. My meds are helping a lot. Part of the deep depression after that bad CFT meeting might have been due to the fact that I was falling asleep early and forgetting to take my night meds- which include the antidepressant. Once I got back on my medication schedule, the depression backed off a lot.

I don't know what to think of the foster parents. We've always been friendly and they have never said a negative thing to me before. Never mentioned Jaymes and personal hygiene, or any of the other issues addressed in the CPS report. It came totally out of nowhere. I keep asking myself, why would they not just say something to me? Up until this they've been wonderful. They are fantastic foster parents (regardless of how harsh they were to me) and they have done a lot for Jaymes. It's really hard for me to know what to do, because on one hand Jaymes is doing well there, but on the other the animosity between ourselves (especially Jason) and the foster parents is pretty scary. I think that explosive meeting showed everyone's true colors. Us included.

I'm just waiting for the next blow up. I'm dreading the next CFT meeting, I do not want to be ripped to shreds again.

The CPS worker came for a second home visit yesterday, and it went very well. She seemed happy with our home and how we interact with our children. She stated she found no proof of abuse or neglect, and that the case would be closed out at the 45 day point, which is coming up soon.

We had planned to leave Jaymes in placement over the summer, and have him back as school was beginning. But knowing now all the horrible things the foster parents think of us, and thinking of how they reacted during the meeting, neither Jason nor I are able to see how we can continue dealing with them. It doesn't seem healthy for Jaymes to be with people who can get that verbally abusive, and who apparently despise his parents.

Jaymes will be coming home sometime early May. We have not picked a specific date yet, need to look over the calendar first. I'm having surgery to dig out my impacted wisdom teeth on Friday, so I will probably be really useless for that weekend. We have Jaymes from Friday afternoon to Sunday midday. Poor Jason is going to have to do all the work, I know how I am when I'm hurting. Not looking forward to that at all.

Anyway, I think I got all of the bad stuff out in this incredibly long post... Needed to write it out and get it off my chest so I can move on.