Adrift in this sea called life

via Daily Prompt: Adrift

Today the storm has swelled. I am overwhelmed with the very thought of taking care of my family, my husband in particular. With tears in my eyes, I’ve watched him struggle all day. The dementia washes over him deeply today and he doesn’t understand what’s going on. It’s like he’s adrift at sea, tossed by the thoughts that have no rhyme or reason. Where will he land? Will tomorrow see the storm calmed? I can see him drowning and there’s no life preserver in sight. I’m losing him and there’s nothing I can do.

He asked when middle son had to leave for prom. Middle son is homeschooled. There is no prom. He is so lost and I don’t know what I can do to help him. He asks when eldest is getting home as he takes the 2 hour old dinner from the microwave and starts to toss it in the trash because he thinks it’s left over from last night. Eldest is in her room, talking to middle and hasn’t left the house all day. It’s 8 P.M. He thinks it’s morning. He doesn’t realise it’s the youngest child’s dinner, keeping warm till he awakens from his slumber.

I try to get him to go back to the bed he’s lain in all day. He argues and fusses that he’s not tired. He stumbles from the kitchen as I make him scrambled eggs and hash browns with a bit of bacon chopped up in it. I give him his plate and he spills half on the floor.  He tries to clean it up but the dogs beat him to it. They have grown accustomed to cleaning up after him I think.

I wonder, briefly, if he’s had a stroke as I watch him eat. He chokes, momentarily, on the food and my breath catches. Will I have to put him in the hospital again with aspiration pneumonia or should I just let him go? I have to walk away, feigning a bathroom break, so I can allow the tears to stream freely down my cheeks for a few minutes. Waves of grief wash over me as I’m tossed about, emotionally, like driftwood in a hurricane.

I’m adrift on the sea of emotion. Alone in my torment. I have noone to talk to. The one person I had to talk to is adrift in a different part of the storm. Lost to me. Drowning.

 

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Life with a schizophrenic

Eldest is schizophrenic and has decided that she no longer needs to eat. Husband has been onto her about her weight and she has decided to starve herself. This started about 3 weeks ago. I found out three days ago. Two weeks ago, she stopped all her meds. This I also found out three days ago. She said they were making her throw up.

Well duh!

Now I’ll tell you how I found all this out.

Monday, daughter went to her therapy, supposedly. I say supposedly because we got a call about her missing her appointment. When confronted with this tidbit, she said that she had gotten there late because she missed the bus and that, when she got there, they had her reschedule.

She then goes on to say that it didn’t matter anyway because they were about to drop her because she has missed too many appointments.

Tuesday she had another appointment with her therapist and I made sure she left the house with buds pass, money, wallet and whatever else she needed. Tuesday afternoon she was home and was acting erratically. We called her therapist, then the crisis line. Got things calmed down and went to bed.

Wednesday, I went to work. At 11am I was called by husband who informed me that Adult Protective services was here. Talking to daughter about last week when husband had to put her in a restraint hold because she was throwing things and generally being violent. They were gone by the time I got home at 1:30.

At 2:15, three police officers were at my door. They questioned daughter, husband and youngest then left. They didn’t talk to me or middle.

At 4:00, youngest came to my room with severe stomach pain and was rushed to the hospital via ambulance. Nothing physically evident but when I told the doctor about the things that had happened, he said it COULD have been psychosomatic in nature.

Yesterday was pretty intense.. Not a lot of drama but eldest and husband were “discussing” things and daughter was loud and borderline belligerent.

Its almost 6am now and I’m going to the food bank to work till 1. God PLEASE let today be calm. I’d like to get through one day without crying.

I’m teetering on the brink of insanity myself. Every day this week, I’ve fought the tears. Yesterday I broke down in tears in front of my boss for the first time in my time there. Two years. She said “my God, how do you do it? You come in every day and are always full of smiles. I’d be a basket case!” I laughed and said ” You see me as I want to be seen but behind the mask is a really fucked up person.”  She hugged me and said “You aren’t fucked up. Your one of the strongest women I know.”

She doesn’t know what that meant to me.

Indecision

Indecisiveness, irresolution, hesitancy, hesitation, tentativeness; ambivalence, doubt, doubtfulness, uncertainty, incertitude; vacillation, wavering, equivocation, second thoughts; shilly-shallying, dithering, temporizing, hemming and hawing, dilly-dallying, sitting on the fence

Yeah, today I’m thinking about my husband again. As always. I’ve been really paying attention to his actions of late and what I see disturbs me more than words can say.

Since I’ve been home from the hospital, I’ve been watching my husband, his interactions with the children and his words. What I don’t see, youngest informs me.

I went back to work last week and the very first day, upon my return home, youngest said that husband has informed them that he no longer cares about them because they “obviously” don’t care about him. This because he “had” to do their chores.

What kind of person says things like that to children? It made youngest cry. I’m seriously wishing I knew what to do. I’m afraid to leave because he has all the money in his bank account. He’s stopped giving me my allowance. I think he suspects I’m trying to save money to leave… If I don’t get enough money, how will I leave??

We found out that my father does, indeed, have colon cancer but it’s in the “early stages” and the doctor thinks he can get it all in one surgery. Keep your fingers crossed. I will be taking middle with me when I go down to take care of him and his wife who starts chemo tomorrow. Don’t know when I’m leaving but it will probably be in the next couple of weeks. If I can get a ride, I’ll take youngest with me. If I have to take the Greyhound, I’ll have to leave youngest here.

Middle had an endoscopy last week and we have found out he has scar tissue and ulcerations on his esophagus. He’s now on medication and will be having another endoscopy in 8 weeks. That should give us time to go to Texas and help grampa before his appointment.

I have to remember, if I leave, I don’t come back. I take the kids with me and we continue without husband. My children deserve better.

 

 

Menopausal Survival

My family is ready to commit me.

I’ve been so emotional, bitchy, weepy… My emotions are ALL over the place!

For instance, tonight. Husband is making something new for dinner and I’m organizing my jewelry making things. He is making filled quesadillas, filled with something that resembles vomit. I’m instantly annoyed. I’m a HUGE visual person when it comes to food. If it looks funny/weird/different/gross, I’m bothered.  This looked down right NASTY.

I start grumping about it being soggy and gross. Then he serves me one that he’d made 10 minutes before. It’s got the consistency of road kill. Que meltdown. I’m sobbing and bitching at the same time. I threw the food…. Dogs had dinner. Next I’m laying in the bed sobbing gutwrenchingly. Youngest comes in and asks me why I’m crying so hard and I honestly can’t say why.

Then I’m hit with a hot flash that almost makes me pass out.

Loverly….

 

At least I know a reason I went full psycho on them.

 

I hate being a woman right now!

 

Good news: They survived.

This time….

Therapy…

Today I went with middle for his therapy and ended up doing most of the talking. The therapist told me I really needed to get husband out of the house. I agreed. When you decide to take charge of your life, how do you get the offender to actually leave?

I asked the childrens godfather to find me a gun. I’m afraid I actually need one because of husband.

Husband started yelling at mother today. I knew it was just a matter of time. Now I’m having to do damage control.

 

*sigh* Will it ever end?

 

Fourteen years and counting

Yesterday was Youngests thirteenth birthday. It was, blessedly, quiet and full of fun for him. It was just the family, sans gramma because she had to go babysit my nieces son for the weekend. My older brother came and spent the night.

Husband was quiet. He baked a pineapple upside down cake for Youngest. He cooked dinner and was peaceful. I’m grateful for that beyond words.

 

Husband and I have been together fourteen years. Our fourteenth anniversary will be May 1st. The past four have been harder and harder to cope with. After his illness four years ago, he changed. He’s been more violent, less patient and more passive aggressive. He’s withdrawn into his computer. He spends more and more time watching videos and not talking to the family except to complain and cajoal the children. He is becoming more and more unbearable, to the point that youngest asks when we are getting divorced.

Husband has said we will never get divorced. He also says that, if I leave him, youngest will stay with him. Youngest said he will NOT stay.

Rape Kit Backlog and the Mentally Ill

When I received the call from police in December, I was told that there was a break in the 14 year old case I’d reported. They asked me to come down and talk with them so, in January, I did.

The man who met with me was the same detective who took the initial report, so many years ago.As I sat there, in the interrogation room, I began to feel the same dread, the same anxiety that I felt all those years ago. The man was very polite but I could tell he really was concerned about whether or not this case was viable.

They had finally run the rape kit and found a match. They had a name. They also had a problem.

Back at the time the rape happened, I was suffering. I was deep in a mental turmoil called Dissociative Identity Disorder. I remember little of the incidences of rape, of which, apparently, there were three. By all evidences, one of my personalities was on a online dating site and was having conversations, via IM, with many different men. Apparently these men were the ones I reported had raped me. Two of the three incidences I don’t remember anything about. The first one though…. I remember that.

Because of the mental health issues I suffered back then, the officers, at the time, were unconvinced that there WAS an attack. They were very aggressive during my questioning and I finally recanted. I was terrified, badgered and, when they threatened to arrest me for false reporting, I recanted. I was tired and just wanted to go home. They had, unbenounced to me, taken my son from my husband to be and given him to CPS. When I returned home, he was gone.

I began therapy in order to get him back and, there, found I had at least seven different personalities. I, honestly, cannot say WHAT happened during the periods I’m missing. I just don’t know. So, when I was talking to the detective, I told him to just drop it. I couldn’t see putting someone through that issue if they were, in fact, innocent.

Besides, after fourteen years and ten years of therapy, I didn’t want to take the chance on waking those personalities up again. I NEVER want to see them again! Well, not SEE per sae but you know. I want them to remain dormant, unseen and untroublesome.

I don’t want to be crazy again.

 

A big thing that has been on my mind, because of this, is the extreme backlog of DNA tests that are never run. WHY? I think there is an underlying thought that the victims are all lying. Buyers remorse and all that. I imagine the police are in their offices talking amongst each other, saying things like “Yeah, we got another remorseful victim. Said the guy raped her but she didn’t fight back. I think she’s lying” as he tosses the DNA kit into the evidence locker, never to be seen again. At the moment, there have been Twenty one THOUSAND rape kits found that haven’t been run. 

How many victims could have been saved from being victimized if they would only have taken the time to run the damned kit? Like my case, they have the man’s evidence, they have him in the database. That means he’s been arrested for this crime before, right? What if they had actually done their jobs instead of blaming the victim?

How many other victims have been badgered into recanting their stories because of the police? How many perps are still out there, with cases sitting on shelves, raping another or possibly even murdering them? How much suffering could be averted by the police actually doing their jobs?

A persons mental status shouldn’t be the reason for the police discounting the victim. I WAS raped. I AM a SURVIVOR. I might be crazy but I’m NOT stupid. No matter how many personalities I have/had, I’m still a victim of rape.