A Teary Phone Call

Daughter called with her standard tearful command, "You need to come get me now." After some complaints she finally said enough for me to figure out what had caused her such distress. The other diabetic at the house had a low blood sugar-- it dropped to 15, and they had called 911. Daughter was terrified. So we had a long conversation. I assured her that she knows how to keep herself safe and that wouldn't happen to her.
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I finally distracted her by asking her about the movie she went to see this evening with a church friend. Once she was focused on that, I reassured her again that she knows how to take care of her diabetes, and she could keep herself safe. She finally hung up when the ambulance arrived for the woman with the low blood sugar.

An Honest Conversation

Daughter asked to talk to me at bedtime. I want to record some of that conversation now, because it was pretty amazing. I can't remember all the words, but basically, she was talking about how guilty she feels about the way she's been acting. Part of her wants to do more, but her fear gets in her way. She's terribly jealous of her friends from Tiny Village who are living more or less independently. She wants to be out on her own, but terrified by the thought of leaving here. She wants to be under her own roof, and wants to stay with me until I die.

I listened, and then I reminded her that before we moved, I told her that after we'd been here a year, we'd start looking at options for her. I reminded her of how well she did at camp. I pointed out that a residential placement would be like that, and if she could prove she could be responsible away from me, there would be the possibility of more freedom and less supervision in the future. She didn't embrace the idea, but she also didn't reject it. She talked about how frightened she was when she first went to camp. I told her that moving away would be the same way, she'd be frightened at first. I also reminded her we'd still be a family and spend time together. She rolled her eyes and informed me, "I know that."

The conversation left me confident that a residential placement is the right thing for her, and the timing is right, too. It was a good conversation, and she went to bed happy. I'm going to go to bed happy, too. In fact, I'm headed there now....

Safety Concerns

This afternoon I feared for my safety. Daughter was furious, and threatened to hurt me. What had I done? She wanted some chicken fingers. I was making some dip. I got out the chicken fingers for her, and told her she could have that or the dip, but not both. That was enough to set her off. I don't like being afraid. It reinforces the reality that she needs to move out. Sooner rather than later.

She ended up taking off, though she came back quickly. Then she ranted and raved about how much she hated herself and she was going to start hurting herself. I just sat here, numb. I suppose I could have taken her to the hospital, but I figured the threats would pass quickly. They did, but they left me exhausted. It's to the point I'm afraid to say anything to her, because I don't know how she'll react. This is no way to live. Of course, I find myself wondering how she'll do in a residential placement, and how long they will put up with her....

Naming the Fear

Yesterday I received a text from Daughter's Program Manager. Daughter had started a micro enterprise early this summer. With our time away and the way bureaucracy moves slowly, she finally made her first product last week. She proudly showed me a video on her ipod of her first mini scrapbook. The agency provided supplies and support and will sell it at their marketplace. Daughter had gotten to her program yesterday and announced she was quitting her micro enterprise. PM texted and asking what they should do. I responded that they should tell Daughter to suck it up-- she'd made a commitment and needed to follow through. PM agreed, saying usually they let the individuals make their own decisions, but in this case, she thought I was right.
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Yesterday afternoon, Daughter called me, furious that PM and I had talked and decided she should keep doing her micro enterprise. I told her I was busy, and we would talk when she got home. She accused me of always being too busy to talk to her.
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When she arrived home, I was waiting on the front porch. I invited to sit with me so we could talk. Of course she didn't want to talk then. We did talk though. Eventually we worked through the smoke screen to the real issue: Daughter claimed she's never succeeded at anything and is afraid of success. She was crying as she told me this.
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We talked further, and I reminded her that she had succeeded at camp, and had been very happy and proud. She wanted me to send her to camp again this month. We also talked about what she could do with the money she makes. I suggested she could buy pop when she's out with her program and spend money on itunes.
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When she went to stay with some members while I was at a meeting yesterday evening, she was bragging about her micro enterprise. The woman is interested in seeing and purchasing Daughter's mini scrapbook. I've forwarded the reassurance and motivator to PM, and hopefully Daughter will now move forward with her project.

Sleeping In

Daughter is still in bed. I slept in until 8:00 this morning, and I called Daughter when I got out of the shower a few minutes ago. She said okay, but hasn't moved. She went to bed at 8:00 yesterday evening, so she's in bed almost 14 hours. Was she up eating through the night? I don't know. I know she wasn't up to go to the bathroom, as this morning her bedroom smells of caulk and urine. I don't think I can sing to her today. I'm still frustrated with her.

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There's some anger, but the larger emotions are sadness and fear for her. How am I supposed to figure out her insulin when I don't know what she's eating? How can I keep her safe from herself? I'm going to examine the pantry doors more closely, and see if I can buy some door alarms to put on them. I don't know if I'll be able to attach door alarms because of they way they are designed. I'm not sure the door alarms would wake me up with my c-pap going, but they might slow Daughter down a bit. That's the hope, anyway.

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I need to finish a sermon, fill pill boxes, and clean the windows and put everything away today. Will I get any help from Daughter? Probably not. One of the women from the church is coming to pick her up to go walking at 11:00 today. That will be good for both of us.

A Tirade

Daughter had a tirade tonight about family. She doesn't want to go see Sister and Short Niece tomorrow. She hears bits of pieces of my phone conversations. She takes those bits and pieces and constructs stories to go with them. I often ask her if she has any questions as a result of what she heard, but too often she is afraid to ask.

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In tonight's tirade, I was amazed by some of her insights into family dynamics. Unfortunately, she sees the tensions and assumes the family is going to fall apart. She is terrified of losing another family. This afternoon Sister-in-law was talking about their cat settling into her lap, and then feeling the baby move and jumping up and running off. I was relaying the story to Far Away Sister, who recalled when she was pregnant with Nephew. Tall Niece was almost 2 when Nephew was born. Far Away Sister would be reading a story to Tall Niece, and Tall Niece would be leaning in and cramping Nephew. He would kick to get her to move. She would respond by elbowing him. Far Away Sister thought it was hilarious that they began fighting before Nephew was even born. Daughter heard me responding, and assumed that Nephew was getting into fights at school. She went off on how Far Away Sister is too focused on Tall Niece and her college plans, who Daughter described as perfect. Daughter thought she should be paying attention to poor Nephew, who is getting into fights at school. Now Nephew isn't getting into any fights at school, but Tall Niece is a remarkable young woman who is in the process of completing her college applications for very elite colleges. I'm sure there are times when Nephew is a bit jealous.

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I reassured Daughter that there have been disagreements and tensions between my siblings since Brother was born 41 years ago. I assured her that none of those problems stopped us from loving one another, and that nothing would tear us apart. I explained some of what she'd heard and misinterpreted. She listened, and she apologized. I try to protect her from the worst of the tensions, but there are conversations that take place in front of her. She assumes the worst, and is terrified. I hope that she will be able to enjoy seeing Sister and Short Niece tomorrow at the violin recital.

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The other piece in all of this is that when we are with family, she doesn't get as much of my attention. I don't think I will ever be able to give her enough attention to satisfy her. When she complained about how I was busy talking to Brother and Sister-in-law all afternoon, I pointed out that yesterday she didn't have to share me with anyone. That was yesterday. Yesterday's over. Today she had to share me. Tomorrow she will have to share me. Monday I'm back in the office and she will really feel neglected. I hope we get her started into a program soon. She needs a life apart from me. I need a break from her neediness.

Scary Night

Yesterday evening we went to Town for supper and the concert in the park. Daughter was planning to meet some of her friends, including Nice Guy. We arrived at the park and I took my seat in my lawn chair while she went off in search of friends. It was a much smaller crowd than usual, as it was the community concert band that was playing rather than a band they'd hired that played hit music.

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As the evening progressed, I realized Daughter had not stopped by or called me, which was unusual. Then I realized that Best Friend Mommy was over to the side with her baby and Daughter hadn't come by to see her. I got up and wandered over to the restrooms, scanning the crowd as I went. I didn't see Daughter or her friends. I began to wonder if she'd gone off with Nice Guy again. I called her cell phone to check on her. She didn't answer. She often doesn't answer the first time I call. Sometimes she leaves it on vibrate and doesn't hear it. I called again. She still didn't answer. It occasionally takes her a few calls to hear my call, but she always answers or calls me back. I called again. My call went straight to voice mail. Okay, maybe she was trying to call me at the same time. But my phone didn't ring, and repeated calls went straight to voice mail.

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I got up and walked around, looking for her, my mind racing. Had she gone off with Nice Guy? Had he made her turn off her phone? Where could they have gone? I didn't have his cell phone number, and the other friends she was talking about meeting didn't have cell phones. How long should I wait before I called the police? What kind of car did Nice Guy drive? Would his mother be home? Did I have his mother's phone number in my cell phone? Would Daughter call me eventually? Should I go home and wait for her to call? What if he'd decided to take her someplace and keep her until the court house was open and they could get married? What if he was raping her? What if they'd been in an accident? Who could I call to help me figure things out?

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Then I saw her. She was over in a completely different area of the park, alone. Her story was she didn't know I was trying to call her because she was talking on the phone to friends. Her phone had shut down because the battery was dead. I told her she had to stay with me since her cell phone was dead and I wouldn't be able to reach her. She got mad and refused. We came home with her in the backseat alternating between yelling about how unreasonable I was being and hitting herself with her fists.

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Once we plugged her cell phone into the charger I was able to confirm that she had two missed calls from me. Eventually, she acknowledged she'd ignored my calls. I told her how worried I had been. She showed remorse and felt guilty. I'm glad she was just being a brat, but am reluctant to give her any freedom when she pulls things like that. She doesn't keep her cell phone charged, and I told her she has to find a place for the charger, and put her cell phone on it every day.

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She didn't acknowledge that she'd ignored my calls until bedtime. I told her if she ever pulled a stunt like that again she'd be grounded for life. She informed me that was impossible. There will be another conversation about that today, and there will be consequences, I just have to decide what they will be. For now, I'm grateful that she was just being a brat and ignoring my calls.

Eenie, meenie, minie.....

Pick a reason. Daughter is struggling again. She called me about lunch time and wanted me to come get her because she was remembering things. I told her she needed to distract herself and to get out her ipod. Yesterday she lied to me about having made her bed (she's wetting the bed about every other night now). Today she came home and demanded to go back to the workshop because she can't stand to be away from her friends (many of whom are no longer attending the workshop).

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Among the possible reasons for the decline:

1. Concerns about Birth Brother in the army that were triggered by the Memorial Day Services yesterday.
2. PMS. Her period apparently started today.
3. The upcoming anniversary of my Mom's death (June 9th).
4. Contact with friends made possible when I gave her her cell phone back.
5. Concern about Sub being at the gift shop all week while Super Supervisor is on vacation.
6. A delayed reaction to the full moon on May 27 (I looked it up).
7. Fear brought on by her success (she told me today that she's not comfortable when she's happy because it isn't really her.)
8. The return of psychosis (she thought I was calling her this evening when I wasn't-- often a warning sign of psychosis-- I made up something so she wouldn't know I hadn't called her.)

She's supposedly trying to turn it around by doing her chores properly tonight. I hope she succeeds. I told her I know it's hard when Sub is in at the gift shop, but she wasn't going to leave the gift shop because of Sub. I also addressed some of the other possible causes. She told me she doesn't know what the problem is. I think that's an honest answer. It would be nice if I could determine the cause, but I probably won't ever know. We'll deal with the behavior and see if she can turn it around.

My Meltdown

Daughter's blood sugars have been running low. I've been gradually reducing her insulin as I try to eliminate the lows. I've been concerned, because I know she's into extra food. I can't figure out why she's running low if she's into extra food. I've wondered if she could have gotten a hold of some insulin, though I'm really careful about keeping the insulin in a locked box in the refrigerator.

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Yesterday I discovered two empty food containers upstairs in the tv room. She had them hidden in a foot locker that I use to store old video tapes. She had jammed so much stuff in there (a number of her clean clothes that she didn't want to hang up were also crammed in there-- I was watching the floor of her closet, so she had to find a new hiding space) that she could no longer close the lid. That's how I found it.

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When she got home from the workshop today, her blood sugar was in the 60's, which is too low. It shouldn't have been that low, especially since she was a little high at lunch. She ate a few glucose tabs, and then I gave her some banana bread I'd made yesterday to use up some over ripe bananas. She'd has some banana bread for breakfast, and she was delighted when I gave her more to cover the low. She went upstairs to do her work. I went into the kitchen a few minutes later, and the banana bread was missing. There wasn't much left, but I knew where it had been, and it was missing.

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I went upstairs, and she was sleeping (her blood sugar was high, so of course she was sleepy). I demanded to know what she'd done with the banana bread. She'd eaten it all and put the empty container on top of the refrigerator. She knew I was unhappy.

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So a little later she comes downstairs and tells me how sorry she is and tells me she's trying to show me respect and do what she's supposed to do. Of course, she hasn't taken care of the recycling that needs to go out tonight, or the dirty clothes she's dumped on her bedroom floor, or finished hanging up the clothes I'd discovered yesterday. I told her she at least had to get the recycling out.

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Finally she began to move to do that. I went to the kitchen to unlock the lock box and get her night time insulin out, still worrying about the mystery of her blood sugars. I was pondering again the possibility she had somehow managed to get some insulin. I walked into the kitchen, and discovered a whole bag of Do.ritos was missing. I lost it. I yelled at her. I told her I was trying so hard to keep her safe and I couldn't, because she was working against me. I wanted to hit her, but I didn't. I told her to get away from me, I couldn't deal with her right then.

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I over reacted. I reacted out of my fear. It's possible that her eating is what has been keeping her safe at night. There is this problem people with diabetes have called, "dead in bed syndrome." Basically, a parent goes in in the morning and discovers their child has died during the night. The theory is that the blood sugar drops too low overnight, the individual doesn't wake up, and ends up dying. It's the fear of every parent of a someone with diabetes.

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It is impossible to figure out her insulin needs when I don't know what she has eaten. Impossible. And a mistake could kill her. She says she doesn't have any other food upstairs. Of course, less than an hour before I discovered the missing chips, she'd given me this heart felt apology and told me that she was trying to show me respect and cooperate. I can't keep her safe. I can't keep her away from Flasher. I can't keep her away from food. She will always find a way. If she can't get at food here, she'll go steal it from the church, or buy it from the vending machine in town. My number one priority has always been her safety. But I can't keep her safe from herself. She wins. Of course, ultimately that means she loses.

The Dangers of Texting and Walking

Daughter thought it was totally unfair that she had to remake my bed yesterday. She'd apologized, wasn't that enough? Unfortunately, the mattress wasn't dry by bedtime, so I made her set up the guest room for me. She's upstairs making my bed right now. She didn't wet the bed last night. Do you suppose there was a message for me in her wetting my bed while taking a nap?
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The committee from Small Town was in worship today. Of course a few people figured out what was going on. Most likely all of Tiny Village will know by tonight that I am interviewing for a new church. We had a bunch of kids in worship this morning, and they were very lively during the children's sermon. I loved it, and I'm sure it impressed the committee. We really have some great kids here right now. Daughter still doesn't know. I will take her over there to see the community as soon as they offer me the call. I'm anticipating hearing something in a week to 10 days. They are hearing someone else next weekend.

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On to the title of my post. Fortunately, the committee from Small Town was gone before this happened: Following worship I was trying to set up a time to get together with the two young men who are doing a dialogue as the prodigal son and older brother next Sunday. I went back to the pulpit to get my blackberry and check my calendar. I was entering the appointment as I can down the steps (okay, it wasn't quite texting), and managed to miss the steps and land on my face. I have two cuts from my glasses and a hug bruise on my left cheek bone. My right wrist (the one I just had surgery on) is very sore and stiff. My left knee is badly bruised. While I was trying to collect my dignity, Daughter was freaking out. She ended up kneeling behind me with her head on my shoulder crying. She was terrified. I kept telling her I was fine. The crowd who gathered kept telling her I would be okay. She wouldn't stand up so I could stand up.

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They were trying to convince me to come straight home and elevate my knee and put ice on it (they'd gotten ice for my face), but I had to go to Sunday School because we're working on the Wednesday evening services during my Sunday School class. One of the men got the lens back in my glasses, but the frames are pretty badly bent. I was forced to take the lift instead of going down the stairs. Poor Daughter. I got home ahead of her. She walked in and yelled, "Don't you ever do that to me again!"

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Like I fell flat on my face intentionally? It was something I did to scare her? It was probably good for some of the people to see how it affected her. They don't always understand how deep her problems are. This was a wonderful example. One of the teens finally convinced Daughter to get up and sat beside her in the front pew comforting her. Everyone was very caring and concerned. I am going to be very sore for the next few days, but I will recover. Maybe Daughter will appreciate me a bit more for a few days. That would be nice.

I Lost It

This morning was not one of my better mornings. Last night I discovered that the water proof mattress pad I had on Daughter's bed had failed. I had to wake her up at 9:30 to make her bed and take care of her medical needs. It took her until 10:30 to make it. She did manage to get up on her own this morning. Once again she'd wet the bed. She informed me that people like her don't wet the bed when they're in other places, only when they're at home, so it won't be a problem when she moves in with Flasher. I didn't like that response. "I don't deserve the same respect you'd give him?" She told me not to talk to her.

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I reminded her that I have a meeting (interview) tomorrow and she'll be with a respite provider. I said I planned to give them money for lunch out and a movie. She informed me she wouldn't stay for that, and would leave before she'd stay with anyone. She told me that if she did come home today, it would only be to pack and leave again.

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I told her I was sorry she hated me so much that she'd rather live with an abusive boyfriend than me. I wasn't the calm, cool and collected mother who doesn't rise to the bait. As she was leaving she told Cat to leave me alone. I said, "At least he loves me."

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She called me this afternoon when she got on the bus. It was an interesting conversation. She can't spend the weekend with Flasher because he's tied up with Special Olympics basketball. He's still talking to his Dad about moving in with him. She apologized. She promised she'd be cooperative tonight. I asked her if she still thought moving in with Flasher was a good idea. She said her whole heart, soul, and mind thought it was a bad idea. She didn't say though, that she wouldn't do it. The conversation was wearing me out, so I told her we'd talk when she got home. I bought two new water proof mattress pads for her bed, and some cleaner designed for pet messes to see if that will get rid of the terrible odor in her room.

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I'm tired. I spent some extra time in prayer this morning to regain some of my calm. I am a little concerned about the interview tomorrow. I'm very concerned about Daughter. We see Psychiatrist on Tuesday. I find myself wondering about the possibility that this isn't related to meds, and this is what I'm going to be dealing with in the future. When we do move, I hope there will be services and a better culture in the workshop for Daughter. Case Manager has told me that a move is probably the best thing I could do for Daughter right now. The culture in the workshop is toxic to her. There aren't alternatives in this area. God will provide the right position at the right time. I just hope it's soon.

Dragging

Today was a productive day at the office, as I finished newsletter, bulletin, and wrote 2 letters. As the day has gone on, I've felt progressively worse. I've been blowing my nose and spending lots of time in the bathroom. At some point I decided that I'd best get as much as I possibly could done today, because tomorrow I may feel worse.

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Daughter called once. Today she wasn't hearing voices, today Flasher wouldn't leave her alone. At least she's not giving him another chance. She told me she didn't feel safe. I pointed out what a good job she was doing of keeping herself safe: she'd told Flasher to leave her alone, and when he continued to bother her she reported him to a supervisor.

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She came home and slept. We're both dragging. I pulled some Trader Joe's chicken and spinach sausage out of the freezer for supper. I intend to spend the rest of the evening relaxing. Maybe I can avoid getting sick if I do....

Nightmares

Daughter was very much on edge yesterday. She was irritable, then depressed. She alternated between yelling at me to never speak to her again and sleeping on the couch. She refused to do any of her chores, or even eat fajitas with me for supper.

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At bedtime, she came into the TV room and announced that she couldn't find the charger for her cell phone, which was dead. She informed me that since her cell phone was dead, she was going to have to sleep in my room because she wouldn't have a clock in her room.

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"Where's your alarm clock?"

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"In the guest room."

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"Go get it and I'll set it for you so you'll have a clock in your bedroom."

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I heard her rummaging around in the guest room with a sinking feeling. We keep that room closed to keep the cats out, and apparently she had once again cleaned her room by dumping anything she didn't know what to do with in the guest room.

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"I can't find it. I'm sleeping in your room."

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I was slightly puzzled that after spending all afternoon and evening being ugly to me and pushing me away, she now wanted to sleep in my bedroom. I also wasn't thrilled. I was to the point that I really didn't want her near me, but I didn't object.

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I walked into my bedroom to do something, and she had all the lights on. She was in my recliner, which was pushed too close to the wall to recline completely.

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"You aren't going to be able to sleep like that. Go get in your bed and I'll wake you up in the morning."

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"I can't sleep in my bed."

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"Why can't you?"

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"Because of the nightmares."

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"What are the nightmares about."

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"I keep dreaming about J (birth brother) searching for me and finding me."

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"Do you want him to find you?"

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"No."

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"Did you tell Therapist about this?" (She saw her therapist yesterday afternoon).

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"No. I was too afraid to tell her."

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"You do a very good job of keeping yourself safe, and if J were to show up, I know you'd be able to handle it."

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She slept in my recliner all night in what looked to me like a very uncomfortable position. She was up with the alarm this morning for the first time in quite a while, and was very pleasant and cooperative.

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A couple of weeks ago she had insisted she needed to see J. I pointed out that she had sent him 2 letters 2 years ago, and he hadn't respected her enough to respond to either one. Being an adopted child isn't easy. I think she will always be haunted by her birth family. Her attitude is different than it was a month ago, but the pain hasn't vanished, just transformed into fear.

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I wonder how long she'll be sleeping in my recliner this time around....

And So It Begins

Today we went to town to run some errands, some of them connected to my departure and aides coming in to stay with her. It is now becoming real to her, and the acting out is beginning. She has come down to help me in the dining room several times, and quickly explodes and retreats to her bedroom. I have to give her credit-- she does keep trying.

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I've invited conversation about her concerns, but she's not able/willing to talk about them right now. It's something new, and even though she knows and likes the aides, she's scared. I have been seeking to reassure her, but she is beyond reassurance right now.

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She was convinced she almost had a seizure in the car while I was in the pharmacy.

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The phone calls I've had about the family drama are not helping. Now there is a great disagreement as to where Mom should go for rehab. We all want what's best for Mom, but you wouldn't think that by the way two of my siblings are talking about each other. Both are beyond reason at this point. I sent them an email asking that they refrain from taking their frustration with one another out on me. One hasn't received the email yet and the other is only communicating with me via text message and email, which is fine.

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Hopefully Daughter will be able to calm down enough that we can address her fears before I leave on Monday. There's just so much I need to get done between now and then....

A Loaded Gun

I packed up my computer and went to town for lunch at Taco Bell today. I finished my sermon (early for me), and then headed over to the nursing home. When I stopped in to see to of our men, DJ was sleeping. I sat down to speak to L, who told me that DJ had received bad news about his son that day. His son was not doing well following brain surgery.

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I went over and talked to DJ, and I expressed my concern for him and his son. As we were talking, my cell phone rang. It was Daughter. Her blood sugar was low, and I was going to have to come get her. I told her I'd be there as soon as I finished at the nursing home. I started to pray with DJ, and the phone rang again. It was Sister, so I ignored the call. As I headed to visit the married couple we have there, I called Sister. She was at the doctor's office with Dad. He's dehydrated and his potassium is sky high. The doctor told her that the good news is that the pacemaker will keep his heart from stopping. Since he has a live-in, he decided not to admit him to the hospital.

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I picked up Daughter, who was continuing to drop, even after much treatment. I asked her if she had taken extra insulin. She told me she hadn't. I told her I wanted to believe her. I asked to see her insulin pen. She started it Tuesday night, and she should have used about 50 units since then. Over 150 units were gone. She finally admitted she had taken a massive amount of insulin at 12:50. I called the diabetes doctor, and then the psychiatrist's office. I ended up taking her over to Big City to be admitted. She's in the medical hospital tonight, and tomorrow will be transferred (I hope) to the psych hospital. They gave her sugar by IV. Even with that she wasn't going high. She told me she did it because she was stressed, and she wanted to die. I told her all she had done was create more stress.

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When we got her up to her room, they had someone to sit with her tonight so she doesn't try anything else. Unfortunately, the sitter is a young black man. I explained her PTSD, and told him that if she woke up agitated or disturbed, to step out and get a woman to step in. I told him it wasn't anything personal, but he needed to be aware of her history.

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When Daughter was diagnosed with diabetes in July of 2000, I expressed the concern that a self-destructive child had just been handed a loaded gun. Today, she used the gun. Fortunately, she is going to survive this one. Next time she might not be so lucky.

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When I got home, there were five messages on my machine. Never a good sign. DJ's son died at 5:15 this evening. They have asked me to do the funeral, which will be Tuesday morning. He was not a member of the church, but his church is currently between pastors. I knew him. I called his wife and told her it would be an honor to do the service for them. I'm going to meet with the family Sunday afternoon.

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I'm grateful my sermon for Sunday is already done. I'm grateful that I have friends who are supporting me with prayer. I'm grateful I figured out what Daughter had done before it was too late.

Slow and Slower

Daughter has this amazing ability to move in slow motion. She's not trying to do it, she just is set at a slow rate. She's making chocolate covered pretzels tonight. She dips the pretzel in a small crock pot with melted chocolate in it and then places it on wax paper. I think it's taking her about a minute for each pretzel.

She was helping me brown some meat this weekend, and she was very slowly stirring the top. I showed her how to dig in under the bottom and turn it over, but she just wasn't comfortable doing that. When she's working on something, I try not to be around watching, because it drives me crazy.

When she was working in the cafeteria at the career center, they would encourage her to speed up. Any encouragement to speed up causes her to get stressed, start shaking, and move more slowly. It's one of the reasons she's not ready for community employment.

She came to me tonight asking to make chocolate chip cookies with Splenda and the chocolate covered pretzels. I told her one project was enough, and she could do the chocolate covered pretzels. She has a terrible time finishing projects, and sure enough, after less than 30 pretzels, she was asking me to take over. I told her she needed to work on it a while longer. I also pointed out that this was why I didn't want her taking on both projects tonight, since she has so much trouble completing things.

Dad is really improving since they got the fluid off his lungs. He's been working a couple of hours a day in PT and today received permission to walk a certain distance in the hall alone, so he was going out about every 15 minutes to walk the hall. He wants to be home for Christmas. I'm glad he's doing so much better. I had a phone interview tonight, and he's been talking about it all week. As soon as it was over I called him. The first words out of his mouth: "How was the interview?" I think it went well, but we'll have to see. Daughter is stressed about a possible move. I keep reminding her that the first place God called me made it possible for me to adopt her, and reminding her that Tiny Village has also been a good place to be. I assure her that God has another good place in mind for us.

Fear + Guilt = Anger + Eating

Yesterday morning I took Daughter to see Therapist. Daughter wanted me to go in with her and stay. She acknowledged that she had "forgotten" her appointment with Therapist on Monday because she was afraid to talk about the things she needed to talk about. She deals with fear and anxiety with anger and eating. The eating then leads to guilt, and she deals with guilt by getting angry and lashing out at me, which leads to more guilt, and she's then stuck in a downward spiral. Therapist helped her come up with a list of others ways she could handle her fear and guilt. Daughter was very happy.

She called me a little after lunch, telling me she was tired and didn't feel good, and she really needed to be picked up. Even knowing she'd have to sit in hospital waiting rooms while I made visits and wouldn't be able to watch TV, she still wanted me to come get her, so I did. I went to visit the widower of the woman who committed suicide. He is much less confused after the surgery, and expects to be discharged from rehab soon. I sat and talked to him while he cried. I brought him tissues and when he didn't have a waste basket by him, I took the used ones to throw away. He protested that I shouldn't have to deal with his snot. I assured him it was okay. We had a good conversation, and I was impressed with all he remembered. It is so tragic-- if his wife had held on a little longer this ordeal might have been behind them.

I drove to the other hospital in City to visit Broken Neck. She is improving, and can now recognize her improvement. We had a pleasant, though brief, visit. They are working her hard in therapy, so she was tired. Daughter got home and was frustrated, as she desperately wanted something to eat but was remembering our conversation about the dangers of her sneaking food and lying about it. I finally convinced her to have some sugar free hot chocolate as a snack while she waited for supper.

After supper we did some more cleaning and decluttering in the kitchen, and then we played a game together. I don't remember the last time we played a game together. It was good for both of us. This morning when she woke up she had the best blood sugar she's had in quite some time. She was so excited. I was pleased, too. I asked, "Am I to assume, then, that those high numbers you've been having in the mornings are a direct result of what you've been eating?" She admitted that they were. I hope that she will remember and follow the list she and Therapist developed at least for a while. It would certainly be nice to have her cooperate long enough to get her insulin needs figured out.

I am resigned to the reality that while she will hopefully be cooperative for a while, eventually she will forget this lesson and once again get caught in the downward spiral of fear and guilt leading to anger and eating. For now, though, I will enjoy the break.

If I'm Scared, You Must Be the Enemy

Daughter followed up Friday’s success by calling Therapist this morning to reschedule her appointment (it will be at the workshop now so I don’t have to make a trip to Town—she’ll ride the bus home) and going in to talk to her Case Manager to see what was happening with jobs. A week from Wednesday, she’ll go observe the cleaning crew, and then she’ll be able to sub, and possibly get on the crew permanently when there is an opening. After each event she called me all excited to tell me about it.

She’s excited, but she’s also scared. After moving back to her own bed, she was back in my recliner last night. When she’s scared, I become a target. If she’s scared, she must be in danger. Since I’m the only one around, I must be the danger. Therefore, she needs to defend herself against me.

So, she objects and doesn’t want to eat the supper I fixed.

She complains that she should be able to control her SSI.

She needs to get away from me and into her own place.

She can’t work because I haven’t given her a list.

She can’t work because I’ve piled too much on her and she can‘t handle it.

She hates taking pills and we should hire a nurse to fill the month’s pill boxes.

I’ve learned not to argue. It isn’t about me, and most of the time I remember that. I just fixed a plate of food and sat it in front of her. Eventually she checked her blood sugar, took insulin, and ate.

I showed her the spread sheet and explained that her SSI covers less than half of her expenses. I also made it very clear that I love her and I’m not complaining, I don’t mind spending money on her. She was indignant that I have to spend so much money on her each month—it’s not fair.

I reminded her that I want her to be able to live independently, too, and that we’re working on that goal together. I reminded her that when she started school, she couldn’t immediately read. She had to work up to it gradually, just like she has to work up to living independently gradually.

I assured her that while the steps she’s taken are scary, they are good steps and she will be able to handle a new job when it comes her way.

But mostly, I’m silent. I’m just here and present, going about the daily tasks. She has grown in her ability to identify her stressors and talk about them. I have learned more about what her triggers are and how not to react when she gets in one of her moods.

The dishwasher is unloaded. The litter boxes are clean. The trash is out on the curb. Pill boxes are ready for the next four weeks. She’s upstairs watching TV, and agreed to turn it off at 8:00 and get in the shower. All in all, it was a successful evening. So why am I so tired?

Snatching Defeat from the Jaws of Victory

Daughter had her good day, and came home and told me about it. She talked to Best Friend and set her boundaries. We spent some time together when she got home. I made the enchiladas she requested for supper.

We brought our enchiladas upstairs so we could watch Tom Hanks in Big. Somehow, neither one of us had ever seen that movie. I paused the movie for a bathroom break and suddenly Daughter, who had been laughing through the movie, decided it was more important to go for a walk than watch the rest of the movie. I knew she wanted to take a tour of the kitchen. I insisted she watch the rest of the movie, which she did. Then she went for a walk and her tour of the kitchen. She of course kept denying she wanted to go sneak food.

At bedtime her blood sugar was 251. She finally acknowledged she had eaten two pieces of cinnamon bread. She ate it because she wants to die. Sigh.

We talked about why she ate the bread. We talked about what else she could have done. I pointed out her strength earlier in the day, and said she was strong enough to control her eating as well. I assured her I loved her. I suggested she focus on the good parts of the day. She told me she can’t take and offsite job until she can control her eating. She did let me hug her before she went to bed.

Tomorrow is another day. I hope she will allow herself to make it a good one.

Anxiety Meter

I can usually tell how anxious Daughter is by how often she has to touch base with me and how close she is staying with me. Saturday morning, with a sinking feeling, I realized that her anxiety was very high. When I was in taking my shower, she came in to sit on the toilet and wait for me. When I came down to the bedroom to finish getting dressed, she was right next to me. When I came downstairs to finalize my plans for the graveside service, she pulled a footstool over next to my desk so she could be right next to me and watch what I was doing over my shoulder. I began giving her tasks to do so I wouldn’t feel suffocated.

I was now certain that Daughter was anxious. I also knew that she was probably not aware of her anxiety. I decided to encourage her to explore her feelings.

“I’m wondering if you’re feeling anxious about something.”

“No.”

“Is there something you’re worrying about?”

“No.”

“Maybe you’re stressed about something?”

“Yes!”

“What is it that is stressing you?”

She had now decided that I was a complete idiot. “Granddad!”

“It is a worry when he is in the hospital. I talked to Uncle last night and he is going to go home today.” I tried to call his hospital room, but his phone was off the hook, which wasn’t unusual. I called Sister, who was to take him home. She didn’t pick up, so I left her a message. Daughter got up and wandered off. She stayed home and watched tv while I did the graveside. I was relieved she was no longer hovering, but pretty sure that there was more to her anxiety than Granddad.

After lunch, we headed out to do some shopping. I knew she had talked to Boyfriend in the morning and wanted him to cover over and hang out. At the last store, Daughter went off to check out the clothes while I picked up the last few groceries we needed. When I tracked her down in the fitting room, she was not happy. None of the clothes fit properly. She was simmering. By the time we headed out of the store, her life sucked and wasn’t worth living.

“I’m wondering if...”

“Don’t even mention his name! I’m going to scorch him.”

I never did mention his name, but we discussed Boyfriend’s words and actions were inconsistent as we drove home. He had promised to call her with his schedule when she talked to him in the morning. He never called. I have sensed that the romance is cooling, but yesterday had assured me they had talked everything out on Friday and they were fine. Except that on Saturday he’s not following through on his promises. Daughter desperately wants a boyfriend.

I suspect that until they get things resolved, I’m going to need to adjust to having Daughter hovering.