routerecalculation

Part of being in a ward of 14 kids or more, is the reality that they’re all either going to get along and be friends, hate each other and fight, or a mix of both. Most kids end up there for only 2 to 3 weeks, so it’s not a huge amount of time but just enough to either connect or not.

Contact is strictly forbidden. No hugging, limited talking outside of group therapy, mostly private bedrooms, and if it’s shared then only one in there at a time except for sleeping, and generally supervised discussions to avoid unhealthy conversation.

I remember when I was a teenager – probably 13 or so. There was this group of boys in our neighborhood and I had a horrible crush on one. These boys were “wordly”, and there would have been no way my parents would have allowed me to socialize, so I remember hanging out in the back yard on our trampoline, just in case they walked by so I could see. I knew it wasn’t allowed, but if I could make some kind of contact it would make my heart jump. The point is, if there was a will, there was a way.

It’s no different now. Kids will find a way to bend and break the rules if they can – and they’re really crafty at it. On discharge they would pretend hug, and drop a paper with their contact info on it so it could be quickly picked up and hidden. They would smuggle in restricted items in their underwear or bras until they were caught. They’d tape razors to their skin so they couldn’t be found in clothing checks. They’d find ways to write contact info on parts of their bodies that weren’t seen so they could keep track of each other and make contact on the “outside”.

Now that we’re on the outside, there are no regular checks. Things are expected to carry forward and be more normal. The question remains – is contact on the outside good? What is normal, and at what point do I become concerned? Over the last few weeks there have been a few names that have come up. Emails from a girl whose parents figured a trip to Mexico would be the cure rather than stay committed to the program. There has been a patio coffee with a boy that was in emerge and then admitted twice during our stay. These were both forbidden contacts that have risen to the surface. Is it healthy to keep contact with people who suffer the same? Is it reassuring or detrimental to talk with others who suffer the same plight? At ADTP, there are no restrictions so numbers and emails are shared freely. We live in a different town so contact is limited to electronics, but it’s still there. I see a happier girl, who has compassion for other kids and finds comfort in not being alone, but the question still remains, and I imagine it will for a very long time. Will there be any long term negative effects from contacts with other patients? This journey we are on is not a short term blip in our lives. Mental Health is a life long journey that we are taking day by day. I’m so glad we got help – I could never do this alone

3 weeks since discharge. I’ve read all of the discharge notes, programmed the numbers and contacts, am attending the support groups, care giver groups, counseling sessions, have “baby proofed” the house, researched vegetarian cookbooks, gone to dieticians, stocked first aid kits……seems endless, but all preparations in an effort to avoid what I’ve been told is inevitable.

3 weeks since discharge. Things seem to be going pretty well. We have established a bit of a regular routine. Up by 630 am. Pickup for program at 750 am Return at 4 10 pm. Home. Figure out dinner. Some evening time. Shower. Tea. Bed. Weekends are saved for some activity with family and friends, and perhaps a visit with dad. It all seems pretty normal. Chores are being neglected, mostly because that’s not been part of the routing for the last while, so we’ll get back to it. 3 weeks since discharge, and 3 large opportunities to derail. The amazing thing is that I’ve watched the girl I knew years ago re-emerge. She was invited to a large youth event with a lot of kids in a loud environment and went. This could have been horrible, with the potential of many issues arising, so I stayed close to my phone. I’ve been having troubles with my phone, but because my contract isn’t up yet I’d either have to pay a heap of money for a new one, or wait it out, so wait it out is the choice. She’d been out for awhile at the event, and it was getting close to the time I had to pick her up, but no calls or texts. I thought it a little strange but let a little more time pass. Still nothing. When I looked at my phone there was no power at all. I freaked! What if she had been trying to reach me? I ran around looking for a plug to see if was a battery issue, but when I plugged it in there was nothing. No charge, no power, no contact. So frustrating! Eventually I managed to get it to turn on, and sure enough she had been trying to reach me, however, not for anything bad at all. She was just letting me know it was time to come – what a relief! I’m seeing skills that have been taught being used successfully. I’m seeing smiles and a happy face on a regular basis. We’ve had a fee tense.moments, but I’m remaining positive. I feel as if.I have my daughter back, and that is a very, very good feeling.

“Hello, Mrs. Johnsen?
“Yes, that’s me. Please call me Kerry.”
“Ok then, hello Kerry. How are you doing today?”
“…………….fine? Thankyou. And yourself?

Another one of those calls. You see the number. You know who it belongs to. Again, you take a deep breath, but this time sit down prior to answering.

“Am I catching you at a bad time? Do you have a few minutes to talk?”

Yes. I answered the phone so please, talk. Tell me something good. Tell me amazing news. Tell me this is almost over and this will be a closed chapter, never to be opened again. Please, just tell me something hopeful.

The Doctor on the phone proceeds to talk about a small incident at the program involving a staff member and a breach of confidentiality. We discuss the situation briefly, and that my daughter has been informed.of the situation. They assure.me this has been educational for them and has been resolved.

“How do you perceive dealing with this? Will you discuss it with her, and do you anticipate any problems?”

“Really?”, I think to myself. How am I going to deal with this? Will I talk about it with her and what do I anticipate happening? Great question indeed!

That’s the whole issue all the time. What will happen? There is no jacket cover or last page to read and get the end of the book first. I used to do that when I was in school. Book cover, inside jacket, first chapter, last chapter, book report, and done! 60% is all I needed – anything higher was a bonus. Anything lower was too indicative of my lack of effort. Didn’t really matter – I was cruising with tons of stuff more important to me I needed to do.

I miss those days. The “spoiler alert” saved my butt a bunch of times. Unfortunately, the path I’m on now has no alerts – at least not until your going over the actual bump. I would love a pot hole sign but I’m constantly facing that “construction for 100 miles” sign on a 1 lane highway. No turning back. No alternate route or detour. Not even a route recalculation – just rough road ahead.

How many times have you been cruising down the highway, summertime, windows open, tunes playing, and then you see an orange sign? Construction ahead. You think to yourself, “no problem. It’s a nice day, I’m in no rush, how bad can it be?” Then another sign comes that says 50 km ahead. “Really? That’s the pits. Maybe it will be just a short distance.” Then another sign comes that says construction next 100 km. “What the heck?! I just drove past the last exit. Now I’m stuck”. You slow to 50, and keep driving, waiting to see construction, but there’s nothing. Absolutely nothing. Not so much as a pot hole. You cruise for awhile, at 50 km/hr, trying to stay cheerie and not get irritated. Why let this ruin your trip? No point. 5 km pass. No problems. Small little pot hole comes up but you just had your shocks done so you don’t even feel it. More signs, and yet nothing. Another 5, then 10, then 15 km pass. Nothing at all is happening, and yet your eyes stay wide open, you stay alert, and you watch – just waiting for that huge bump in the road that will cause havoc. Nothing. You feel tempted to speed up a bit, after all, 50 seems a little ridiculous. If you go 60 or so and saw a cop you could easily slow down. You reach about 65 or 70, and then see a man with a sign that says slow. He’s waving his arms frantically as if you’re in imminent danger. It must be coming. By this time you’re almost half way there, and yet nothing out of the ordinary. You can’t even figure out why this is all happening in the first place. You’ve had a clear road – no issues, yet the bells are ringing, blinkers are blinking, and you’re on high alert the entire time. This is my life. Things seem fine. Moods are good. No self harm. No escalations. No incident reports. All good, and yet I’m being warned by the team on every front that it’s coming. Watch. Wait. Keep alert. Bad will probably happen………. It’s exhausting. I’ve said it before that I’m not good with rides, and I meant it. This is no different. How do you live a “normal” life and yet still operate all the time with a wise mind? I wouldn’t dare have a drink. I wouldn’t dare put my jammies on early and snuggle up for a movie. I wouldn’t go to bed early, run to the corner store, or even just have a long shower and turn the music on. I need to be prepared and be ready. Watch. Wait. Listen. And make sure no one sees you doing it. Alert on the inside and calm on the outside. I’m pretty sure my frustration comes through loud and clear. The waters are so muddy. I feel like I’m in a really long movie and just want to see the end already, but I know we have a long way to go. At least that’s what I’m being told. Things have been going well. Every day a little more trust is built bringing us closer and closer, but there’s always that however. The “what if” always exists. “If I let my guard down for just a moment, some thing is going to happen, and I’d never forgive myself”. I want to breathe and yet I can’t. This is so hard. I know the hand I’ve been dealt, but that joker is always out there. This is the first time in my life I have really felt being positive is truly negative, and that I feel reprimanded for feeling hopeful and like we might be out of the woods. Not sure anyone really understands, so for now I keep my cards close and won’t reveal my hand, after all, that card is still out there.

It was about 8 years ago now that I fulfilled one of my dreams and took my kids on a trip to California. I had always wanted to go to Disney and with them, but had never had the chance. I was having a great year in home sales, so I decided to buy the tickets and plan a surprise trip. Planning this was so much fun! The tools on the Disney site were great and easy to use. Planning activities, where to stay, rental cars, event tickets – it was all there. I remember filling out the info to receive a call from Mickey Mouse to tell the kids about the trip. This is how they were going to hear – a call from Mickey – how fun would that be?!

The day came and we got our things together to head to the airport. I’m pretty sure a lot of folks thought I was crazy. A single mom taking 3 kids (then 12, 10 and 6) to a place she’d never been on her own to spend 5 days having fun. I actually thought they were all nuts. How hard could it be?

I’m pretty sure that will be a trip we never forget. Disneyland, Universal Studios, Midevil Times, shopping, and more Disney. I had brought a GPS from home so I could navigate our way from place to place and not get lost. I didn’t want to get stuck in a set itinerary, and the need to be spontaneous is always there, so I figured I would be courageous, rent a car, and hook up the GPS to lead the way.

Things were going really great and we were having the time of our lives. We arrived just after Halloween, when the parks were decorating for Christmas, so the park was beautiful. The “It’s a Small World” attraction was just amazing as they’d covered the whole face of it in lights. We rode that ride 4 times in a row because it was so pretty. I don’t remember smiling that hard ever – it was just great to be with my kids and have so much fun. This was a dream coming true.

Our trip had been really great. We had a 2 day Disney pass, so we went the first night and the last. My plan was to get everything done in between and spend the last night at the park, have dinner, do rides, and see the fireworks. I just LOVE fireworks. The day went without a hitch. We had a great dinner at the Pirates of the Caribbean – our favorite ride. I had always wanted to eat dinner at the restaurant the ride passed by, so this was our chance – and we did it. It was magical. What a trip!

The night played out well, and we saw the fireworks then headed back to the hotel. It was very late and we were all exhausted so our beds were calling our names. We got all buckled in to the car, and pretty instantly the youngest 2 fell asleep. I set the GPS and we headed back to the hotel.

I don’t know what it is about night time, but things always look so different. The landmarks never change and neither does the road, butt my perception sure does and it makes for a more interesting drive. I find the older I get, the less I like driving at night. I don’t know what happened on this particular night, but I just couldn’t get it right. The GPS was set. I knew where we were going. I could see the hotel from the highway. I just couldn’t get there. Every single time I got to the exit I couldn’t figure out which one to take. We were on a huge highway, with exits going every direction, and every single time I took an exit, the stupid qGPS would say “route reclaculation”. Seriously? The first time it was no big deal. Ooops, missed it. No worries. I’ll drive ahead down the road, take a turn around, head back the opposite direction, turn around on the highway and try again. “Route recalculation”. Darn it! Missed it again. Ok, this time I think I know what I did wrong. Let’s do this again. Drive up, turn around, drive back, turn around, try again. Shoot!! “Route recalculation”!! Why does she keep saying that! I can’t tell what road to take!

I was frustrated at first and a little embarrassed. My oldest was still awake and I didn’t want to scare him, and being flustered wasn’t going to help. After the 6th “route recalculation”, we looked at each other and started to laugh. I think we’d been driving the same stretch of road for about an hour at that time. Now my other 2 woke up (I guess we were laughing too loud), and kindly pointed to the hotel, asking why we weren’t there yet. We just laughed harder. On the 7th try I missed again and seriously didn’t know whether to laugh harder or start to cry. Nope. Cryings not for me so we laughed. And laughed. And laughed. On the 8th try we finally made the exit, and got back to the hotel.

That is a night none of us will ever forget. How did we get it right finally? My 12 year old held the GPS and compared the 8 exits. Each time we struck one off and tried the next. My middle guy watched for the turn around points. My youngest cheered and repeated “woute wecalculashun” everything time the GPS repeated it. 8 times we tried. 7 times we missed the mark, and the 8th time we made it. We did it, but it took all of us together.

We have used that phrase a lot over the last 8 years, and all of us smile every time we do. We’ve used it a lot over the last 5 months as well. A little more sobering, but it also reminds us that if we just don’t give up we can make it. It might take some extra help, some twists and turns, but we’ll get there eventually.

Isn’t that what life is like? And the mental health journey is definitely no different. It’s ok to change routes, just don’t lose sight of the big picture. We’ll get there. Eventually.

Pro Ana.  Have you heard of it?  This is about one of the most alarming things a parent can see.  Google it.  These are websites specifically targeting girls with ED – eating disorders, giving them “thinspirations”, and providing them even with daily reminders of “You’re beautiful.  Remember not to eat today”.  They contain pictures of girls with their bones jutting out, clinging to life, restricting calories, all to be what they think is acceptable.

Pro Ana stands for professional anorexic.  I had no idea last year at this time that something like this even existed.  How do our children stand a chance with this kind of garbage available to them with the touch of a few buttons?

I have battled myself with eating and food my entire life.  When I was young, I was made to feel fat on a daily basis.  It came at me from every direction – family friends, teachers…..it felt like everyone.  It came to the point where I didn’t want to even be hugged or touched, for fear that others would feel my fat, and somehow would feel the way I felt on the inside.  I never fit in to “regular” clothes.  Thank goodness my mom was a good seamstress, because she would make me my jeans.  I attended a country school full of athletes, which only made things worse.  My gym teacher would taunt me daily, and remind me how I wasn’t like the other girls.  I used to pray for “God’s second coming” so that I wouldn’t have to finish running while all the other kids.

Eventually things started to spiral, and eating got worse.  I was so desperate to be thinner I tried all sorts of crazy things.  I found exlax in my parents medicine cabinet, and took a whole bunch, hoping that would work.  All that did is scare me half to death.  Nothing like drinking grape juice and then peeing purple!  I thought I was dieing!  I tried making myself throw up, but that hurt and was gross so that only happened a few times.  I tried not eating,  but I was hungry, so I would binge eat – actually in the closet.  I remember very clearly the horrible feeling of being such a bad person after, and the guilt was huge.  I remember a specific individual watching me eat, and being so self conscious of every time I put the fork to my mouth that I thought I was going to pass out. I just wanted to die.  I can guarantee you I hid this all very well and my parents didn’t have a clue of what I was doing.

When I was 13, I went on a very strict diet – only 800 calories a day.  I ate the same thing almost every day for 6 months.  My Dr. was so happy –  I lost 50 lbs., which is pretty major for a teenager that age.  I had changed schools that year, so I remember returning to my old school, and my gym teacher didn’t recognize me.  What a feeling that was!

For the rest of my teenage years I struggled with my self image.  I was musical, a bit of a geek, liked to cook, and always wanted to be different. I was short (still am), and really had my own sense of things.  Other kids were sporty, partied a lot, had tons of friends, and I felt they always looked at me as odd.  I didn’t fit the typical stereotype of the ED type, but in retrospect, I certainly was behaving dangerously.

As an adult I have struggled with weight.  I gained a tremendous amount when I got pregnant with my first child, and remember my x’s sister saying to me that fat people don’t need to gain weight when their pregnant.  I have lost a lot of weight, doing a secret diet, and remember the control and power I felt with no one knowing what I was doing.  I remember a lady in the grocery store asking me if anything was wrong – just to make sure I wasn’t dying, and that actually felt so great.  I felt powerful and in control – no one knew my secret and it gave me power.  I totally get the feelings that come when you can’t control your life, but then you find one thing you can control.  It only works though when it’s a secret.  When my secret got found out,  I couldn’t hang on and I started to gain all the weight back.

Since my daughters admission, I have learned a great deal about eating disorders, but truthfully still have a hard time understanding.  I understand my own struggle, but I’ve always been on the heavy side.  I’ve been the binge type, using food as an emotional blanket.  I’ve watched girls on the mental health unit restricting to such a degree, that even eating one green pea sent them in to fits of crying and panic.  I’m serious!  1 green pea.  The thought of caloric intake is so overwhelming to them, they just can’t do it.  They end up on IV and tube feeding, sometimes for months on end trying to get them to a safe weight.

My daughter was very close just before Christmas to being at that point.  I was so surprised that this happened under my watch.  I thought I would know, but didn’t catch it till it was at a serious level.  Hearing the way it all happened was horrifying, and I’ll never forget the day I had to sit and listen to it, but I’m glad I did.  I watch now – so closely – and yet I fear I won’t catch it because things can change so quickly.

I have realized throughout this journey, that in order to help my daughter with her pain and self image, I had better deal with my own.  It’s time to deal with the demons – whatever they are – and figure out why I still struggle.  How can I show her what self love is, if I don’t even have it myself?  Why do I still have the weight on me, and what am I protecting myself from?  I don’t really know yet, but that will be my personal journey, and something I need to change so I don’t carry it with me the rest of my life.

It’s time we speak out.  Do people know?  Did you know?  Pro Ana?  It doesn’t get much worse or more dangerous than that!  Since when did weight define who we are?  My size does not define who I am, only where I shop.  Time to start working on believing it.  I know it’s easy to say – believe me, I know.  Be aware!  Speak out!

Well today is the day. In 2 hours I will be picking up my daughter after 4 months and 23 days. It’s hard to believe because there are so any times we could have derailed, but we made it. 3rd time is the charm. They will have a rock ceremony for her, we’ll get prescriptions and then go home. No more parking passes, no walking the halls of the childrens, and no more late night calls from nurses.

This is it. Time to put in to play all of the things we’ve learned in therapy. We now go from constant watch and Q60 check ins, to creating our own routine. The question will be “How much is too much?”. For now, program pick up and drop off will be at my work. No home alone time. Regular safety check ins, and regular monthly visits to our pediatrician will be scheduled. Counseling and psychiatric care changes to ADTP. Sharps, meds, and alcohol locked away.

I realize we will have better days and worse days. I watched her restrict food for 2 days this weekend, and then recover on the 3rd. I will have to try and separate regular teenage behavior from things that may be signs of a decline. I know I will also have to decide……….when do we return. I think we are learning some of the triggers, but unfortunately I can only do so much. She will have to learn what to keep or allow in her life, and what to restrict or get rid of. In a way, it’s almost too much for a 13 year old, and I so wish I could stop time a little and just put a little time between now and the tough stuff. Just let her progress a little bit, you know?

“Hi, mom? When are you coming?”
“They said 10……”
“Can you come earlier? I just want to get out of here.”

I’ve been waiting to hear those words for a long time.

Scared. Happy. Nervous. Light headed. Now my real work begins. Fasten your seat belt folks. It’s going to be an interesting ride.

1 year ago my daughter started complaining about stomach pain.  It was a daily nagging ache in her stomach that we couldn’t explain, so I took her to Urgent Care in our town (small town equivalent to Emergency) to get to the bottom of it.  She was complaining a great deal, doubled over and pale, so I thought this would be the right move.  We headed over, and the waiting regimen began.  We eventually saw a Dr., who ordered xrays, did vitals etc. and waited more.  Eventually the results came back, and the Dr. said she was constipated.  All we had to do is up the fiber, drink more water and get things moving.  Good to go.

Two weeks later, we were back again.  This time after the xrays, they said things were cleared out a lot more, but to keep it up.  Give Tylenol for pain if necessary, but just keep up the water and fiber, perhaps add in restorlax (similar to Metamucil) and things should be good.

A few more weeks went by, and the pain was still there.  It usually hit at night, and would get worse and worse.  I tried establishing a pattern.  Could it be hormones?  Food?  Surely not – she eats, that’s ridiculous.  Stress?  Bullying?  A close friend of hers had just moved away, and that seemed to make things worse.  I was thoroughly convinced that this was it.  (Later I found out this girl had been the source of severe bullying for 7 years).

As the months went on, we ended up back in either emergency, or Urgent Care, with each visit been at least 8 hours or longer.  I spent many of those visits in a chair trying to lean my head on the counter and sleep.  We went back 18 times between February and August and even went to a psychologist.  The pain continued to get worse, and worse, and worse.

Every Dr. had a different explanation.  One told us adolescent abdominal migraines.  One said it could be crones and we were scheduled for tests.  Another said IBS – referrals to the GI clinic were based on the level of emergency and had a 6 month waiting list.  One Dr. said this was something she would just have to live with.  We would have to get used to it.  That night I remember specifically, and I’ll never forget it.  We were both so discouraged.  She slept with me that night and she cried herself to sleep.  Once she had finally fallen asleep, I then took my turn.  The tears flowed a long time that night.

Again the pain came, and we ended up in Urgent Care.  This time, the Dr. gave her IV meds – Toradol, Naprosyn, and even 3 shots of Phentanol (extremely addictive!)  This actually seemed to take the edge off, but the only problem was that because it worked once, she wanted it every single time.  The last time we visited the Emergency department for the stomach pain, a senior Dr. came in, and said although every single test was negative, we needed to realize that she was glucose intolerant, and that all the problems were stemming from her diet.  We needed to go at least 2 months gluten free and then reevaluate.

I spent a ton of money.  Medications, imported temperature sensitive probiotics, essential oils, gluten free food, specialty teas, books, cookbooks………everything I could think of, yet nothing was working.  Plus, on top of the stomach pain, we were getting arm pain, chest pains, headaches….it was overwhelming.

After she was admitted to hospital, they started testing for the source of the pain.  They even wondered at one point if her heart was failing.  After months of testing, counseling, psychotherapy, group sessions, and more, they discovered that the pain was purely the result of extreme stress and anxiety, and malnutrition didn’t help either.

She’s been on a 2 day trial home.  Yesterday was pretty good, however she discovered after reading a pamphlet in my purse, the side effect of one of her meds is hunger, which made her upset.  She hardly ate yesterday.  Breakfast today – ½ cup of Special K with a glass of water.  The pain is back.  Requests for painkillers are starting already.  I can’t tell you how frustrated this makes me.  All the feelings of those nights in emergency, all those different opinions, and all of the exhaustion comes flooding back.

I know the cause.  Stress.  Anxiety.  Ugly, ugly stuff.  The challenge is how do I figure out the trigger and deal with it before it get’s bad again?  She knows deep down it’s stress, but either can’t or doesn’t want to admit it.  Dealing with the cause can be as or even more painful then the pain itself.

I have to be patient and not let frustration get the best of me. We have a long way to go.

For 5 months now I’ve had to contemplate what life will look like once my daughter comes home. How will it feel when she’s here? Will things be the same? What should my expectations be?

There are many different ways I could probably look at this, after all, there is no hand book. I feel like I’m writing one as I go.

We’re in day 2 of our trial weekend home. One of my bigger fears has been letting my guard down too quickly, and I hope I’m not failing at that one. When you see your child acting “normally”, you forget, then the sleeves come off, the healing wounds and scars from the past show, and the quick reminder comes back that we’re not done with this yet.

The other side of normal is paranoid. “Is she eating enough? A broken plastic spoon? Strange? Where is the other half? Has she been out of sight too long? How long is too long?” I find my mind flipping between the rational mind and the emotional mind, when really it needs to settle in the middle at the wise mind.

It will take time to create normal in our house hold again. I will no longer be able to sell real estate as I can’t be away from her anymore. That makes it pretty hard to show houses, so after 10 years, I’ll be closing that down and will have to find a new way to supplement my income. Simple errands like running to the store will have to be more carefully planned trips together. Technology will have to be managed and handled differently with a turn in time at night. Safety check – ins now will have to happen. Simple questions like “feeling safe?” are now really important.

The wonderful thing about all of this is that planning and spending time together can be a really fun thing. We’ve always wanted to spend more family time together, so my fiance and I will now plan more family centered times on the weekend, and try to think of ways to engage these teens in something they find interesting. It might boil down to blankets, popcorn and movies, or a trip to a best kept secret restaurant, and may even a drive to Banff once we’re feeling more confident and adventurous. Travel is not recommended for 6 months to a year after something like this. I’ve seen parents disagree and take their kids on cruises or family trips, having to end short and bear the expense of an emergency trip home to hospital. How far is too far? That’s the question.

Meal times are different now too. No more eating in your bedroom or out of sight. Food is a tool now, used as a control piece, so attention to it has to be minimal. Finding vegetarian food that tastes good, has enough protein for a growing teen, and doesn’t get wasted is a new challenge. Plus, making sure my son gets what he needs also needs to happen so this will take some serious planning.

My work routine will also have to change, so thank goodness I have a tremendously understanding company. After this long of thinking, it only dawned on me yesterday that I may have to bring her to work in the morning to be picked up there. I can’t leave her alone for the 15 minute gap between when I will start and when she will be picked up for school. At least not yet.

I’m sure there are many more things that I will recognize along the way. Awesomely enough I’m feeling supported by family, friends, and work which makes a huge difference.

There is so much help around, and people willing to reach out, all we have to do is ask. Things will become routine again. Life will feel regular. I’ve hopefully learned enough to press forward with eyes wide open

5 days and counting. I thought I’d be feeling really happy, but I think my fear is standing in the way. Truth is I’m scared. Quite scared.

I remember reading a book when my kids were first born. It listed all the things you should have around, what kind of medicines to have, handy phone numbers, all the little things you should do to prepare for the new baby.

There is no book for this. No hand book. No prep guide. No real “guide for the depressed, self harming, anxious, eating disorder, vegetarian teen”. What a title that would be, eh?!

I made some appointments this week, during my staycation, to learn a little more of what I should prepare for.

1. Have an emergency number of a close by friend in case of escalation. You may think you can handle it on your own but you might not.

Done. Messaged a friend from 20 years back and we programmed numbers in yesterday. She lives around the corner. Very fortunate.

2. Start a food train. Ask someone to organize week night meals for the next while so you don’t have to worry about that and can concentrate on what you need to.

Done. Asked the same friend to help. I’m horrible at asking but will need to ask someone else on this too. I really hate asking. I much prefer helping !

3. Remove all alcohol from the house or from access.

Almost done. I don’t drink much so this is easy.

4. Remove all vitamins and medications from reach or access.

Almost done. 1 bottle of Tylenol left to lock up.

5. Sharps. Remove all knives, razors, and dangerous cutting tools from reach or access.

Not done. This one is a pain because it seems so ridiculous and unbelievable. Will be done this weekend.

6. Emergency numbers. Program in emergency numbers to the phone for easy access. Hard to think when you’re panicking (or trying not to).

Never took myself as the panicking type. I’ve always been pretty calm, and even animals chill around me. At that moment when you’re standing in a field screaming at God, you’re panicking. Numbers are programmed in.

7. Emergency kit. Have a small bag already packed with necessities for the hospital in case of quick return. Pack toothbrush, deodorant, contact stuff, granola bars, magazine or book, pen and note paper.

Almost done. The pen and notepad is important. They tell you so much stuff and your brain is overwhelmed so it’s hard to remember sometimes.

8. First Aid Kit. Throw out expired stuff and get antiseptic, ploysporin, bandages, etc.

Done. Self Harm is an epidemic. Trust me. This is like a virus and has become the way of choice to express feeling. People don’t believe me when I say how rampant this is. Don’t let denial fool you. Watch for the signs. I NEVER would have believed this was happening if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes.

9. Gas up. Don’t leave your tank empty.

I’ve always done this, perhaps because of living outside the city. Last thing I would want is to need gas at 2 am and not have it. I’ve even searched the couch for change sometimes to.make sure I at least have enough to get there. An ambulance costs $490 from where I live to the city and they don’t let the parent ride along. Best to be prepared.

10. Support chain. If you need it, have a number you can call to put family and friends in to action.

It takes a village to raise a child – at least that’s what I’ve heard. That saying didn’t really come across clearly till now. I’m fortunate because my son at home is 18 so he doesn’t need much care, however this is extremely stressful on him as well. Put people in to action around you to help support, make calls, and whatever else you need. A simple check in can be all that’s necessary sometimes.
I don’t know what the future holds. I want to be optimistic but quite truthfully, I’m terrified. I’m scared of letting my guard down too quickly. I’m scared of the what ifs. I’m scared I won’t do the right thing. I’m scared of being judged. I don’t want to go back again. I don’t want to keep doing this. I don’t want to cry anymore.

I’m just scared.

Take a deep breath. Put on the cape, however thin it may be and stand tall. Be brave. You can do this. I can do this. We got this.