Late yesterday afternoon I got a call from the program. Seems the kid who was supposed to go home this morning to make room for Chloe did something that prevents him/her from being released. They didn't give me more info due to confidentiality, which is fine.
What has me upset is that now they cannot get her in till next week. Maybe Tuesday. Maybe Wednesday. Hopefully no later than Thursday. I had my mind geared towards today, it takes a lot of mental preperation to get to the point you can take your precious, albiet obnoxious troubled teen to these places. I know she needs help and the relief at knowing it was just a day away was helping.
Now I have to get through the week, the weekend and into next week and pray she doesn't hurt herself or bolt. The bolting part terrifies me. As I was packing her things, a few clothes, etc, I noticed quite a bit of her things are missing. Is she storing them somewhere in preperation to leave? Finding the flyer on a shelter for runaway teens did not do anything to alleviate my fears.
New issues with my older dd who we thought was doing better have added even more stress to the mix.
Dh and I have a friendly relationship, staying together mostly for the kids and finacial benefits. He's ready to blow a gasket. He is sick of all the crap and just wants a normal peaceful life. I guess he has forgotten all the hell we both put our parents through as teens. If I have to remind him one more time that bipolar and depression are real illnesses one cannot snap out of, I think I may have to find a baseball bat and knock some sense into him. Not really, but you get the idea.
My mom is no help. Her belief is that if I had just beat the shit out of the kids on a regular basis we wouldn't be where we are today. (I don't spank) Yeah mom, your approach worked well on us kids. Let's perpetuate the cycle.
My dad... I love him dearly but he doesn't get it either. And I am actually embarrassed to tell him of any of our struggles. He was so blown away when Rissy died because he had no clue as to how bad things were for her. He's from a very wealthy society family. Country club type, ski trips to Austria, via helicopter to the mountaintop no less. He's not cold or unloving, he's just very sheltered when it comes to these things. Heck, he doesn't even know most of my struggles as a teen.
My inlaws? Can't go there. We don't really talk at all.
Friends? I wore out my listening ears with Rissy's issues.
So when I get panicky, I hit the computer and try to find some diversion. I put the twins on my lap and we look at animals, baby pictures, play Crazy Frog 3 -4 times. Temporary diversion, but it helps for a few minutes.
I just feel so dang alone in all of this. I lay in bed at night wondering what I am doing so wrong that three of my girls have to struggle this way. It really can make you feel like a horrid parent.
I'm not strong. I'm jello inside. All my decisions are colored by the fact that one of my kids took her own life rather than come to me so I could help her.
I want the dang parenting handbook that tells you how to do it all right. I just wants my kids to grow up healthy, happy and ... well... to actually live long enough to grow up.
Thanks for the kind words and support. You really have no idea what it means to me.