Today...

I feel hopeless tonight. It was a bad day. I've been starting every day with jolting out of bed because I get a text or email or call about my mom leaving rehab, not doing well, needing something.

I resent always thinking about her situation and then trying not to think about it and failing.

I've putting off my own feelings for a while now and trying to "be there" and "do the right thing" for my mom and today everything unraveled.

My mom has been threatening to leave rehab and she states she will continue to drink the minute she gets out. Even though it will kill her within 3 months. She fails to make that connection. She believes it isn't as bad as everyone is making it seem.

She cannot understand rationality.

I have been so fed up by her threats and resistance to this once in a lifetime (and expensive) chance to be at rehab.

Today she called everyone in my family asking for help to buy plane tickets home. Everyone said no. When she called me, I picked up without thinking. Without realizing how fragile I am today.

My GRE is in 3 days and I haven't studied one bit. I can't concentrate. I've been irrationally angry all day. I feel like I'm ruining everything I've been working for. I feel stupid for having the goals that I have. My stress levels are too high.

So when my mom called me and was complaining and threatening to leave, I lost it. I yelled that I hated her and that if she leaves the program I won't talk to her again and I won't help her at all. Then I said I hated her and hung up.

It felt awful.

So I called my brother for support and he said, "If you can't handle speaking to mom in a normal way, then you shouldn't talk to her".

That is probably true but not what I needed to hear. Then I hung up on him. My mother hangs up on people all of the time. And I hate it. I hate that I do it too. I hate that I am like my mother in so many ways. I hate her right now. I wish she would just open her fucking eyes.

I wish I didn't have this horrible, hateful, resentful feeling right now. But I do. I feel hopeless tonight. And I'm embarrassed to admit it because I hate thinking this post will make other people feel that way too or that they will judge me for feeling like this.

Serious posts to come later...

http://www.nataliedee.com/

Something I've been thinking about lately...

1. Do you have a hard time saying no to others, even when you are very busy, financially broke, or completely exhausted?

2. Are you always sacrificing your own needs for everyone else?

3. Do you feel more worthy as a human being because you have taken on a helping role?

4. If you stopped helping your friends, would you feel guilty or worthless?

5. Would you know how to be in a friendship that doesn’t revolve around you being the “helper”?

6. If your friends eventually didn’t need your help, would you still be friends with them? Or would you look around for someone else to help?

7. Do you feel resentful when others are not grateful enough to you for your efforts at rescuing them or fixing their lives?

8. Do you sometimes feel like more of a social worker than a friend in your relationships?

9. Do you feel uncomfortable receiving help from other people? Is the role of helping others a much more natural role for you to play in your relationships?

10. Does it seem as if many of your friends have particularly chaotic lives, with one crisis after another?

11. Did you grow up in a family that had a lot of emotional chaos or addiction problems?

12. Are many of your friends addicts, or do they have serious emotional and social problems?

13. As you were growing up, did you think it was up to you to keep the family functioning?

14. As an adult, is it important for you to be thought of as the “dependable one”?


If you answered “yes” to a lot of these questions, you may indeed have a problem with co-dependency. This does not mean that you are a flawed person. It means that you are spending a lot of energy on other people and very little on yourself. If it seems that a lot of your friendships are based on co-dependent rescuing behaviors, rather than on mutual liking and respect between equals, you may wish to step back and rethink your role in relationships.If you suspect that your helping behavior is a form of co-dependency, a good therapist or counselor can help you gain perspective on your actions and learn a more balanced way of relating to others.

*found here: http://addictionrecoverybasics.com/are-you-codependent-quick-quiz-reveals-codependency/

Another quiz can be taken here: http://quizilla.teennick.com/quizzes/4513150/are-you-codependent

Do your results indicate you're co-dependent? Do you think you are?

Marsha Linehan

Really interesting article about the creator of Dialectical Behavior Therapy (read about DBT here), Marsha Linehan's struggles with suicide and self destructive behaviors that led to her own hospitalizations and ECT treatments.

http://www.nytimes.com/2011/06/23/health/23lives.html?_r=1&scp=1&sq=marsha&st=cse

I think that so brave of Dr. Linehan to come out with this personal, personal story. It just goes to show that people with mental health issues CAN get better and be successful people. It also shows how serious the stigma is...that a person who understands and treats people with mental illnesses had such a difficult time coming out with her own personal story.

Amazing.

You can read more about Dr. Linehan and her work on her website at the University of Washington (Seattle) here.

I'm also going to post some videos from youtube about DBT here and here.

Maybe I need to perk up...

I just read this blog entry: http://www.bphope.com/bphopeblog/post/Positive-and-Negative-Thinking-is-Contagious.aspx

and it made me think. I've been feeling so stressed, so down, so blah about the situation with my mom. I just feel helpless. I really don't know what I can do. What anyone can do.

Small update: we're (her addiction counselor, my brother, sister and moi) having a phone conversation with my mom tomorrow to try to get her to stay and take the program more seriously. I spoke with my mom today and I just don't feel hopeful. She just doesn't want to stay at rehab.

DarkHorizon left a comment on my blog yesterday and said: "she doesn't know she has a problem". And that is partly right. She doesn't know and she does know. The tricky thing is she knows on some level, but her mental illness makes her not care if she lives or dies. And the drinking is killing her.

What am I supposed to do with that?

Anyway. The point of this post is despite these horrible realities I'm dealing with right now, I think I need to find a way to bring myself some happiness.

Any suggestions?

From Caron to Hanley...

The hard and simultaneously wonderful thing about rehab is that you are out of touch with the alcoholic in your life. You hope that he or she is in good hands and that they can "work their magic".

My mom was at Caron (their website) for less than a week before they called to say that they could "not care for her physical needs". I guess they initially thought that they could, but then changed their minds. My mom's therapist also called to tell me my mom was one of the most difficult clients they had ever had because she wouldn't really participate in the program (she was just going through the motions) and denied that she was an alcoholic.

I understand that my mom is a difficult client, but is she really unreachable? She's 56 years old and she's going to die if she keeps drinking. I just don't get it.

Anyway, so then Caron told us that they would pro-rate the $30,000 we paid them (WHY IS REHAB SO EXPENSIVE?) and send her to the Hanley Center (website here), which is a rehab center that caters to elderly people, so they would have the nursing staff to help take care of my mom.

The Hanley Center just called to let us know that my mom was not cooperating (even though SHE decided to go to rehab...it's VOLUNTARY) and that we (my brother, sister and I) need to have a group phone call with my mom to "decide what the next step is".

It is so infuriating. I spoke with my mom yesterday and she was just angry and agitated. She "doesn't want to be there". She "misses home". I just have no sympathy. I hate her so much right now. I just don't get it. Is it the mental illness that makes it SO difficult to get through to her?

Why does she want to die like this?

From the psych ward to REHAB

My mom stayed in the psych ward for a little over a week. I am just not convinced that locking people away from the community is the best form of treatment. I understand that some people are a danger to themselves or others, but the "locking up" part just seems so detrimental to a person's spirit. Is isolating people with mental illnesses really all we've got?

I need to read more about community-based living for people with mental illnesses.

Anyway, trying to get my mom transferred to a private care rehab center was a NIGHTMARE. The hospital did not want to help with that at all (even though they stressed the importance of an aftercare plan). It was so frustrating. No one would send her records (even after a medical release), speak with the treatment facilities, or even us. They would hide in their break room and refuse to speak with us. I'm angry just thinking about it now. Ugh.

I started to wonder if we were we an overbearing family, but even if we were...I'd rather have someone looking out for my mom's best interests. This hospital was like One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest. Just awful. The psychiatrist who first saw my mom said that he would never send someone in HIS family to this hospital.

Good question to ask staff: What would you do if this were your mom/family member?

Anyway, my mom finally was transferred to a treatment center called Caron (read about it here) that said they would be able to handle my mom's:

1. alcohol addiction
2. mental illness
3. physical problems

....even though they actually couldn't.

Another resource...

I found another blog that has a static page where people can leave comments about their own experiences with bipolar parents. There are quite a few comments and she said the page has over 1,000 hits.

Check it out here: http://mybipolarmother.wordpress.com/experiences/

I guess I'm surprised there aren't more sites like that one and this one given this:

http://www.nimh.nih.gov/statistics/SMI_AASR.shtml







Is it the stigma? Or have people found support elsewhere?

While at the hospital...

My mom was hospitalized (for medical reasons) for 3 weeks. Her potassium levels were critically low from being so malnourished, which put her at risk for a heart attack. I don't know how she had been living like that. Not eating, only drinking beer, shitting herself every few minutes (oh, fecal incontinence), being so weak and depressed that she couldn't get off of the couch.

It's interesting how the mental illness plays into all of this. Do normal alcoholics get like this? Or was it the depressive side of her Bipolar disorder that allowed her to reach this level? It's so hard to know.

Anyway, once she was "medically stable," she was taken to the psych ward. Psych wards are awful. The first couple of times my mom was on the psych floor (in 2002 and 2003), it was a result of her arrests and it was a relief that she was there. This time she was just transferred there from her other [nicer] hospital room on the cardiac floor. It's a locked unit and the staff there are mean and demeaning. It's depressing and it smells like pee.

I will say though, you do have to find to humor in situations. For example, after my mom had to have her stomach "tapped" -- which is a surgery that removes some of the fluid in the belly from her ascites (click here to read about it) -- and my mom jumped out of her wheel chair (imagine how good you'd feel if you got 13 pounds of fluid drained from your belly) and walked over to the scale with a spring in her step. The entire backside of her gown was open (so cliche, I know) and her legs are so skinny (from the malnourishment, so it should've been sad, but it wasn't) and I don't know. She just looked so funny. My brother, sister and I just all burst out laughing.

Another funny thing had to do with another patient. Usually it's sad seeing people in the halls and around the unit, but there was this one old man named Stuart and he just YELLED all the time. Again, it should be sad since he was in this hospital with no family and he was obviously very ill (delusions, etc), but he would yell "HELLO? NURSE?" all day, and then when someone would go in his room, he would scream "GET OUT OF HERE!" He told his counselor to "Fuck off! You're a womanizer and a crook!" (best insults ever). And then after lunch one day, my brother offered to wheel him back to his room and when he was all settled in, Stuart turned to my brother, gave him the finger and said, "Get out of my room, faggot". It sounds so awful as I'm typing it, but it was the funniest thing hearing Stuart yell this at my brother. Sigh.

"When things are at their worst, Scarlett, the only thing to do is find something to laugh about. It keeps you sane".
-Rhett in Scarlett

Long short...

So within the next few days, my brother, sister, aunt, and I all came to NY and had a "one last try" intervention. My mom was so weak, she really couldn't put up much of a fight.

My aunt (my mom's good friend) said something that stuck with me: "Why are you punishing yourself like this? The divorce was not your fault". It hit my mom too. I hadn't thought of it, but it was like my mom felt like she deserved feeling this bad. And it took her friend, not her children, to recognize this and say it to my mom.

My mom wobbled into the car, covered in shit stains, and was actually kind of stoic. I didn't know what to expect. Would she make us turn around? Would she storm out of the hospital? Would she die of a heart attach on the way there?

I have to say, the most helpful thing was having my aunt there. She used to be a doctor and actually worked at the hospital we took my mom to. She pulled strings, knew what to ask for, and even pulled a bitchy male resident aside to scold him when he rolled his eyes at my mom and judged her when we told him she was an alcoholic. If you can find someone or know someone who knows their way around a hospital, the whole process is much smoother. And it soothed my mom knowing that my aunt was there, taking care of business, kicking ass on her behalf.

Oh wait...this post was entitles "long short"...oh well. So, it took 8 hours to have my mom admitted to a room (for physical reasons). I can't even tell you the relief I felt knowing she was in the hospital, being taken care of, knowing she wasn't going to die that night on the couch as home. I wept the whole way home.

The Next Day...

My mom agreed to go to a regular doctor, but definitely not the hospital (I think because she was so traumatized by her two hospitalizations). When we walked in the door of the doctor's office, the woman at the counter did not believe my mom was only 55. She looked 100 years old.

The doctor could not do much for us. My mom lies lies lies about anything and everything. Her weight (she said: oh, 115; actual weight: 88 pounds...20 of which was fluid in her stomach). How much do you drink? (she said: oh, not much; actual answer: all day every day). How do you feel? (she said: fine; what anyone else would have said: HELP ME!).

My mom refused to stop drinking and there was nothing we could do. The doctor said involuntary treatment wasn't an option because even though my mom is bipolar and had stopped taking her medications, she was "of sound mind". She is allowed to kill herself like this if she chooses in the great state of New York.

She told us my mom had alcoholic liver disease (click here to read about it) and that she will die from it. It will be a slow and painful death.

To give an idea what she of what she looks like:

1. She has ascites:

2. And she has cachexia from not eating/being unable to digest food:

I couldn't believe the doctor let us walk out of there for my mom to die, but she did. And so we went.

When I Arrived...

I arrived home and my mom greeted me at the door. It was the most horrific thing I had ever seen. She was COMPLETELY emaciated. And she looked nine months pregnant. I can't even describe how terrifying and awful it was to see your own mother like that. She looked like she was dead.

Because she was so cold from being emaciated (because she can't digest the food, it's like she's anorexic and was unable to tolerate cold), the house was 100 degrees and it smelled awful: like diarrhea (which was all over the floor from her fecal incontinence) and cigarettes. It was hell and my mom standing at the door, looking the way she did, was the gatekeeper.

I immediately told my mom that something was terribly wrong and that we needed to go to the hospital. I didn't know she had the energy, but she got angry and refused. She immediately went back to the couch (walking through her diarrhea soaked rugs) and laid down. The coach was crusted with diarrhea, her pajama pants were soiled, and her white socks were brown with hardened and new diarrhea on them.

I went upstairs and cried. I called my father, unsure of what to do. He told me to leave. He said that I should say goodbye to my mother and go back to my life. So, I called my brother. I told him he had to come TONIGHT. Mom was dying and I couldn't do this alone. My brother called my sister and told her the same thing. They were both planning to come the next day.

I also called my mom's really good friend who used to be a doctor. She was also on her way. This was mom's last chance.

I went back downstairs and mom was too weak to hold her head up. She was soiling herself as I was sitting down. So I waited.