Trying and failing

This Sunday morning I was able to lay in bed and read a bit before rolling out. Love on my kitty. Make my double shot and sit down to share. I may get to enjoy it while it’s still hot!

But it’s with a heavy heart and a feeling of guilt.

We took my daughter to respite last night. I know we can’t control her. I know I can’t help her heal the way things have been. I know I have a lot to learn.

We spent most of yesterday with our jaws dropped as we watched her destroy the house. Anything she could reach was hurled at me. She banged herself against walls. She tore books apart. She ran out the house and down the drive several times. Her sisters welcome home poster made for my sister in law now lays (lie? lay?) in a million pieces. If there was a knife in her reach … who’s to say she would not have thrown that? I’m glad my other children were not home for this.

In preparing to send myself in a time out I tried to make the living room a safe place. I looked around and realized there was no way I could leave her in there alone. Not during a rage. She could have killed herself. Between the tv and bookshelfs and wine rack full of glasses …

So as I held her door closed and played music in my head phones and cried uncontrollably, she raged in her bedroom. Banged against walls and doors. Threw toys and ripped things. My husband took over and told me to call and see if there was a bed available.

I know we are just beginning this “detour” if you will, but I feel like we let her down yesterday. She tested and pushed and I did not know what to do. I didn’t know how to make her feel safe. I didn’t know how to help her gain control of what she was feeling. I could hardly control what I was feeling. So I took her the hour drive to our nearest respite hospital. She didn’t say a word to me the whole trip. I would look back at her and she would be glaring at me with an expressionless look on her face. She wasn’t scared of the hospital. She wasn’t sorry for what the day had been. She just was …

I’m hoping to use this time to educate myself more. To psycho proof my house. Maybe rest a bit. I have a session scheduled with her therapist. I’m going to try to move it up to tomorrow … I need help. My daughter needs help.

I hope this post wasn’t depressing or discouraging. That is never my intent. I write this in hopes that someone out there with a bit more knowledge and experience can give me the encouragement I need. That someone may have a few pointers to share. I’m open to any suggestions.

My reference to “a detour” came from a good friend.


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