I know I haven't been on here in quite a long time but I need to start making this a regular thing for me as I need an outlet to get it all out and if someone else is reading this and they can relate well it helps to not feel like you are alone in all of this. I decided after talking to a friend a week ago that I would start blogging again and that I would start doing it like I am writing in a diary.
Journal Entry 3-1-15
I don't believe in coincidences, I believe everything happens for a reason. Yesterday I spoke with someone who I bowl with that just happened to be a nurse at the behavioral facility M recently went too. M told me about it and I decided that I would talk to her about it. I think anyone who can work with mentally ill people are special in my book. And anyone who wants to help my child is even more special in my book. Our conversation was nice and in the end we exchanged numbers. She also encouraged me to back into blogging, she even said I should write a book.
So this morning as I was checking face book while I was in the bathroom (sorry if tmi lol), there was an ad about a movie called no letting go. It's about a family struggling to cope with their son's mental illness. He becomes irritable, anxious and has a mood disorder. I watched the 30 second clip as tears strolled down my face, my heart was screaming that's my life. Now I couldn't find the movie anywhere since they are trying to raise money so that the movie can be made as an indie film first, but that movie felt like it was made for me. Now it is based in the time period when mental illnesses were just being talked about and coming out more, so that family's struggle was even harder as they most likely didn't have the resources we do now. But nonetheless I still was touched and felt that mom's struggle. Every day here is a struggle, M is aggressive, moody, defiant, mean and its a struggle.
My happy child is gone, nothing makes her happy anymore, she is on meds, we have two therapists who see her, she has a probation officer. Let me back up some since I haven't written in ages. M hit me a few times that were so violent I had to call the police, she hit her now 5 year old sister a few times over the years that needed medical attention, she also hit her dad a few times where he called the police. The arrest from me lead to her going to a peer trial where her peers would decide her punishment. Which they did, she had to write a book about anger, do at home community service and listen to her parents. She only followed the anger book. They than told her if she didn't follow the rules or if she harmed someone again than the arrest from me than could have her go to real court, which happened since she hit her dad again. So we have been going to court since November 28, 2014 and on March 18 she will be sentenced.
When this case first hit the court she went to a probation office since she has no record and they were just going to be light with her but when they asked why she is aggressive, she lied and said that her parents beat her causing a dcfs investigation to start when they realized there was no abuse and she said she was lying, she was than charged with a class a felony which is prison from 1 to 7 years. Thankfully the state dropped those charges so she just has misdemeanors for the domestic battery against myself and my husband. Her sentencing can be community service or juvenile detention time. Her probation officer and myself and my husband are working on her getting into residential. The probation officer will present that to the judge and the judge will decide if that is best for her. We think it is since she will be in a controlled environment where they can help work with her more on her bipolar manic episodes, since she has so many in a day.
So each day we deal with swearing, yelling, defiance behaviors with her not wanting to do her chores or school work, self harming, talk of suicide, talk of homicide. I just need her to have a good day. I need my happy child back. Okay journal time for me to clean the house before all the monsters wake up.