I’m really struggling today. Everything was okay until this afternoon when I learned my daughter was in trouble. Not only is she in trouble, but she’s all the way across the country in Florida. So it’s hard to feel thankful today. Please keep her in your prayers.
If nothing else, I still have hope. I am thankful for that. I may be exposing too much personal info here but it’s therapeutic for me. I normally hold things in so expressing my feelings is something I’ve been working on.
Here are a couple writings I wrote in the past after troublesome times with my daughter.
I suppose hope and faith are interconnected. I don’t know that my faith is as strong as it once was; maturity has given me a dose of skepticism. In these days of change, I still hang on to hope though. When I hear people say, give it over to your “higher power,” I am not sure what to think about that.In my mind, having faith allows you to believe you’re not alone in your endeavors;empowering you to make your prayers happen. Creating energy and momentum; always questioning; never losing hope.
The powerless optimist, flipping through mental scrapbooks; remembering small snippets of smiles and happy looks. My eyes fill with tears, wondering what happened to all the years. Baptism, Reconciliation, First Holy Communion, Sunday school, and mass; softball, field trips, and clarinet in band class. Honor roll and Girl Scouts in grade school; ice cream birthdays at the community pool. Pizza parties, sleep-overs, and trips to the beach; I didn’t think anything was out of her reach. Stunning, thin and tall with a bright smile; spirited and funny with her own artistic style. All too soon childhood would expire: It flamed up in our face like adding gas to fire.Difficult and challenging at times, maybe I missed the warning signs. She’s not like other kids I often thought; she’s particular, stubborn, and bad-tempered a lot. Overwhelmed by her passionate emotion, it’s as if rowing a boat in the middle of the ocean. The teenage years have been so intense, taking away every morsel of her common sense. What chaos must exist in her mind? Fear so intense it leaves her blind. Low self-esteem and pain so great; prone to angry fits; compelled to self-medicate.Paranoia infiltrates her private thought: What could happen next leaves her distraught. Pushing away those who love her most, none of us can imagine her biggest ghosts. Crisis is a way of life. Magnetically pulled into her strife, cohorts ill-prepared for the world; criticisms of authority hurled. Leading my girl down the path of the damned… Anger is one drug of choice; it takes away her own true voice. Illicit drugs offer short-term solace from the rage, unrest, and madness; always searching for an end to the sadness. Goals unrecognizable, discussing them inadvisable. Impulsive recklessness directs her existence, mandating that I keep my distance. Trust shattered, relationships battered, living in the shadows and gloom. What different outcome did I presume?Judgmental attitude; no sentimental gratitude; discrimination; frustration; desperation; phobias and abandonment fears; never showing weakness or tears; apathy and antipathy; detrimental activities; insensitivities; anti-social tendencies; unhealthy dependencies. Bizarre behavior the norm; any interaction could cause a passionate storm. To others it often seems crazed; it’s definitely not how she was raised! A Mother’s anxiety never abates; worry and fear are heavy weights. Awake from sleep more drained than rested: dreams filled with visions of relief contested. A disease more dreadful than cancer, will scientists and doctors ever have the answer? What can I do to change her fate? There is no cure for mental illness; it’s always far too little, too late. No solution on the horizon, I’ve given up on prayer… loss of faith an immense load to bear.My heart shattered and broken; emotional pain left unspoken. Living in panic-state for now and forever; climbing Everest would be a more favorable endeavor. I have no alternative but to hope against hope nonetheless. Still wondering if I’ll survive this distress. Believing a road out of the darkness exists but resigned to the fact she’ll never realize true bliss. My beautiful daughter walking hand in hand with death, I fear the demon will take her last breath.
Observations of bi-polar disorder
Denise A Mares © 2005
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