Marlene
26-11-2006, 02:50 AM
I had sat down this morning and wrote down, for the first time, what had happened with my daughter and her hurting herself and threatening suicide. I was done and ready to cut and paste it into a post (working in Microsoft word). I was exhausted, sick to my stomach and had a headache…but I had gotten it down. Then a get a stupid error message telling me that the program was shutting down and since I hadn’t saved it, it was gone. I hate *&%^$#%&# computers!!!!!! So, it looks like I get to go through it again. Oh, joy!
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A few months after my father died, I went into my oldest daughters room and noticed that she had been cutting on her upper left arm. I had cut myself as a teenager because I was looking for attention and when I saw what she had done, I felt so guilty for not being there for her, not giving her the attention she needed. After my father’s unexpected death, I went inside myself because I was hurting. From his death and from knowing that I would have to go through the whole process again when my sister died shortly. I sat down and to talk to her and she started talking about suicide. Her reason was if everyone she loved was dying, why should she stick around. I remember that my husband was in the room. I don’t remember if I called him in or if he was walking by her room and came in. He talked to her…about what I don’t remember. I was too terrified to open my mouth. All I could think was ‘I just lost my father, I’m going to lose my sister. Am I going to lose my daughter, too?’ The only thing I remember saying to her is to ask her what she thought her Grandpa or Aunt Barbara would say about it. I don’t know if that helped or hurt, but I was grasping at straws.
I was able to get her into therapy very quickly after I spoke with the doctor. My happy go lucky daughter that shared so much with me became withdrawn, sullen and told me nothing. The only adult person she spoke to was the therapist. She shut out the rest of the family. And the therapist wouldn’t talk to us because of confidentiality. All I could think was ‘F*UCK confidentiality. This is my baby’s life you have in your hands. What is going on?’
She started having anxiety attacks during this time. I remember one morning I went into her room to make sure she was up and I found her on the floor, curled into a ball and crying during an anxiety attack. I laid down on the floor and held her and had my own anxiety attack as well. I just felt so helpless and scared during this time.
She was in therapy for about nine months and things were getting better. The therapist, my daughter and I agreed to stop the therapy and see how it went. That was late summer. During the Christmas break from school that same year, she told me she wanted to see her therapist again. The earliest appointment I could get was in February. That first appointment, she (my daughter) told me she wanted me to stay in the waiting room (her other sessions were done with me in there part of the time and the rest she was alone with the doctor). Not too long later, the therapist came out and called me back to her office. She told me she wanted the gun out of the house. I didn’t understand what she was saying and she said it again. She told me my daughter had told her she knew about the old shotgun in the back of our closet and had thoughts of using it on herself. I remember feeling my whole body go cold. What I thought was over was back even worse. All of that fear and feeling helpless came back.
When I got home I told my husband what the doctor had said. He said he didn’t believe it. I told him I didn’t care…he either took the gun apart or got rid of the damn thing or I would. He took it apart and hid the different pieces.
During this second round of therapy, my daughter changed. Even her then boyfriend said she was the only person he knew who was happy to go to therapy and looked forward to it. Where before she hadn’t talk much unless you really prodded, now she spoke freely about how if she wanted to end her life, it was her choice. And how it was her decision and no one had any say in it. Whenever she spoke like that, it was like cold knives in my spine. That’s the only way to describe the physical feeling this talk gave me. My husband and I kept an eye on her and knew where she was at all times. I was afraid to leave her alone. I was afraid that I would walk into the house and find her dead. My anxiety got so bad that I was smoking like crazy trying to keep the anxiety down. She started doing things to get our attention. She would lay on the floor in her room in the dark because she knew her father or I would come and find her and tell her to come out with the rest of the family. It seemed like if she wasn’t the center of attention, then she would start talking about hurting herself. After the second time that she cut herself (it was worse than the first and she now has scars to carry from it) her father and I and the therapist told her that if she physically harmed herself again that we would Baker Act her (3 day involuntary commitment). The doctor told her in great detail what it would mean and what would happen and she stopped cutting herself. But the talk continued. One day she and he father were arguing about something and she said something like, ‘Well, I’ll just kill myself’. My husband (who hardly ever raises his voice) screamed at her, ‘Well, if you’re going to do it, stop talking about and just f*cking do it. And make sure you cut you wrist long ways rather than across so they can’t sew you up and save you.’ I don’t know out of the three of us who was more shocked when he said that. But he had reached his limit. It was also when I realized that I was being emotionally manipulated by my daughter. She was beating me up with the thing that caused me the most fear and she knew she was doing it. It was at that point that a great deal of my fear and guilt turned into anger and hatred towards her for this.
So here I sit. At this wall that I don’t know how to get past. And the wall is all anger towards one of the people I love the most in the world. How do I heal when I’m stuck here?
************************************************** ***********
A few months after my father died, I went into my oldest daughters room and noticed that she had been cutting on her upper left arm. I had cut myself as a teenager because I was looking for attention and when I saw what she had done, I felt so guilty for not being there for her, not giving her the attention she needed. After my father’s unexpected death, I went inside myself because I was hurting. From his death and from knowing that I would have to go through the whole process again when my sister died shortly. I sat down and to talk to her and she started talking about suicide. Her reason was if everyone she loved was dying, why should she stick around. I remember that my husband was in the room. I don’t remember if I called him in or if he was walking by her room and came in. He talked to her…about what I don’t remember. I was too terrified to open my mouth. All I could think was ‘I just lost my father, I’m going to lose my sister. Am I going to lose my daughter, too?’ The only thing I remember saying to her is to ask her what she thought her Grandpa or Aunt Barbara would say about it. I don’t know if that helped or hurt, but I was grasping at straws.
I was able to get her into therapy very quickly after I spoke with the doctor. My happy go lucky daughter that shared so much with me became withdrawn, sullen and told me nothing. The only adult person she spoke to was the therapist. She shut out the rest of the family. And the therapist wouldn’t talk to us because of confidentiality. All I could think was ‘F*UCK confidentiality. This is my baby’s life you have in your hands. What is going on?’
She started having anxiety attacks during this time. I remember one morning I went into her room to make sure she was up and I found her on the floor, curled into a ball and crying during an anxiety attack. I laid down on the floor and held her and had my own anxiety attack as well. I just felt so helpless and scared during this time.
She was in therapy for about nine months and things were getting better. The therapist, my daughter and I agreed to stop the therapy and see how it went. That was late summer. During the Christmas break from school that same year, she told me she wanted to see her therapist again. The earliest appointment I could get was in February. That first appointment, she (my daughter) told me she wanted me to stay in the waiting room (her other sessions were done with me in there part of the time and the rest she was alone with the doctor). Not too long later, the therapist came out and called me back to her office. She told me she wanted the gun out of the house. I didn’t understand what she was saying and she said it again. She told me my daughter had told her she knew about the old shotgun in the back of our closet and had thoughts of using it on herself. I remember feeling my whole body go cold. What I thought was over was back even worse. All of that fear and feeling helpless came back.
When I got home I told my husband what the doctor had said. He said he didn’t believe it. I told him I didn’t care…he either took the gun apart or got rid of the damn thing or I would. He took it apart and hid the different pieces.
During this second round of therapy, my daughter changed. Even her then boyfriend said she was the only person he knew who was happy to go to therapy and looked forward to it. Where before she hadn’t talk much unless you really prodded, now she spoke freely about how if she wanted to end her life, it was her choice. And how it was her decision and no one had any say in it. Whenever she spoke like that, it was like cold knives in my spine. That’s the only way to describe the physical feeling this talk gave me. My husband and I kept an eye on her and knew where she was at all times. I was afraid to leave her alone. I was afraid that I would walk into the house and find her dead. My anxiety got so bad that I was smoking like crazy trying to keep the anxiety down. She started doing things to get our attention. She would lay on the floor in her room in the dark because she knew her father or I would come and find her and tell her to come out with the rest of the family. It seemed like if she wasn’t the center of attention, then she would start talking about hurting herself. After the second time that she cut herself (it was worse than the first and she now has scars to carry from it) her father and I and the therapist told her that if she physically harmed herself again that we would Baker Act her (3 day involuntary commitment). The doctor told her in great detail what it would mean and what would happen and she stopped cutting herself. But the talk continued. One day she and he father were arguing about something and she said something like, ‘Well, I’ll just kill myself’. My husband (who hardly ever raises his voice) screamed at her, ‘Well, if you’re going to do it, stop talking about and just f*cking do it. And make sure you cut you wrist long ways rather than across so they can’t sew you up and save you.’ I don’t know out of the three of us who was more shocked when he said that. But he had reached his limit. It was also when I realized that I was being emotionally manipulated by my daughter. She was beating me up with the thing that caused me the most fear and she knew she was doing it. It was at that point that a great deal of my fear and guilt turned into anger and hatred towards her for this.
So here I sit. At this wall that I don’t know how to get past. And the wall is all anger towards one of the people I love the most in the world. How do I heal when I’m stuck here?