What it's like to let someone else do the driving

I had never experienced what it's like to have a child admitted to an inpatient facility... until Tuesday night that is.  It doesn't feel good, lets start with that.  Being that I'm a control freak, the fact that no one at the facility feels the need to give me any real information about my daughter is frustrating at best, but really it's just infuriating.  

I gave them my daughter and while she seems cared for (Rob and I saw her when we dropped of clothes), I know nothing about what's going on, nothing I was told the first night has happened (as far as I can tell), and I'm in the dark - a place I do not like.

When we saw her last night, she was happy, smiling and laughing, mostly about the fact that I'd brought her clothes.  And chap-stick.  And shampoo.  She didn't seem bothered to be there, said she'd done chores (dishes - by hand y'all!) and said since we'd come she didn't have to call us.  She quickly followed that with, "But I wasn't going to call you anyway."  Gut punch.

So how do I live with this?  Rob says I need to stop thinking like a therapist and start feeling like a mom.  Yeah, I know.  If I let myself just feel like a mom, I'd be home in bed curled up in a ball crying, eating ice cream, smoking my damn brains out, and getting drunk.  Yes, I can do all of those things curled up in a ball, try me.  I had to put some therapist in there so I could function.  She'll be okay, they're taking care of her, she is there to get better, this is what she needs, this isn't about what I need.  The mom part says, I want my baby at home, she's being manipulative, I'm a failure at being a mother, what could I have done differently, WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED AND WHAT IS GOING ON?!  It was all I could do not to buy cigarettes yesterday.  I even dreamed about smoking.  

I had a tough day yesterday, as did Rob.  I sat at work, crying occasionally, knowing I didn't want to talk about it with anyone.  Today, it is all I can do to sit here and be even halfway present.  I can't take time off work, and at this point, I only have six hours of work until the weekend.  I have a client tonight and a group tomorrow, but I can focus on those responsibilities easier because I am actively engaged the entire time.  Sitting at a desk in an empty office isn't the same.

(After lunch)
I finally had a release; I spoke to a friend about what was happening and how I'm feeling about it.  I also had the opportunity to accept the flow of the things that will happen, meetings, family sessions, phone calls, her progress and eventual release.  Yesterday I was frustrated because they called Rob's number to get in touch with us (worst plan ever), left a message that he didn't get for six hours, and wanted to schedule an appointment for a day that it appears the therapist isn't even available (according to her voicemail).  So basically, whether I accept it or not, I'm not in control so why not just sit back and let someone else do the driving for a change.  Those are the hardest words EVER.

Since this became a thing (a term I've picked up from my daughter and the girls I work with), I've wondered when and how, or if I bring it up to my supervisor.  Past experience tells me that I have to disclose it to her.  Because I'm having such a hard time regulating my own emotional responses and having trouble figuring out if it's okay to be a basket case verses a solid rock (I know the answer is somewhere in the middle, duh) I don't know how to bring it up to her.  I suppose if I see her tonight I'll just tell her.  Awkward!  But whatever.

My inner optimist tells me that this is good experience for relating to future client parents.  The snarky me says, fuck that and who gives a flying fuck!?  A friend said to me that Rob and I might look at this as a much needed break, but it doesn't feel like that's right, or even should be right.  While I did sleep in this morning, sheer exhaustion will do that to you, I'm worried about her every moment, more than before.  And now my weekend is going to be taken up with this so there will be no rejuvenation for the coming week, no relaxation after a hard week, just worry about her, family counseling sessions, and a miserable Mother's Day.  Happy Effing Mothers Day to me.  

Food is normally my friend; I'd say we're too close sometimes.  I have a hard time eating right now and nothing sounds or tastes good.  After dropping off Lindsay's clothes last night, Rob drove me back to my car (long, unimportant story) and then asked if we should just get dinner at Country Buffet.  While it isn't my favorite restaurant, far from it in fact, the idea of going right home was unappealing and not having to cook was a relief.  I got some roast beef, mashed potatoes, and a slice of pizza.  Weird.  Whatever, get over it.  I could hardly choke down anything because it felt like my throat was swollen.  We spent over $30 for the two of us to eat food we couldn't taste and sit in silence for the better part of 30 or 40 minutes.  We could have gone to McDonald's for a third of that and been just as satisfied.

I realize that I've been trying to raise a well rounded child.  Education is important to us, doing your best and not making excuses.  That goes for many things, like how we expect our children to treat others, what attention they pay to their responsibilities (school, chores, family) and above all, themselves.  We thought it was important to give our kids control of their bodies very early.  By that I mean that if they wanted to go to the doctor, they should tell us, or if they had concerns about something, they should ask rather than wait for an adult to bring it to their attention.  Lindsay is a part of the ME generation, where everything in life should be handed over and that she is the center of the universe.  Or so she thinks.  We didn't put her there, her friends did.  So now that she's in an inpatient facility, she believes it's okay to be totally selfish as long as it aligns with the facilities rules, which I'm sure it does.  

For a long time she has had no consideration for the feelings of others, no idea what this is doing to us financially or emotionally, and I'm sure she's looking forward to the vacation from home/responsibilities/school/parents and when she gets home she's going to expect things to be the same.  It's not going to be the same.  I'm shutting down her FB account (she's being bullied on social media and complains but won't really do anything about it - getting out of groups, unfriending people, not engaging, reporting, blocking, etc.).  Basically, we're trying to protect her this way, but that's not how she'll see it.  I will never hear the end of it.  Also, we're not going to let her sit in her room all the time.  She'll have to be in the living room with us and eat dinner with us every night.  I think I'm going to have to find some activities for her this summer, but I'll be damned if I know how I'll pay for it.  I will keep her with me on Monday's, take her to the counseling office if I have a client, and do things with her that day.  The other days will be the struggle.

Realization!  Well, not like right now, but within the past day or so....  I'm being selfish.  Not the stomp my feet, I want it my way (well, maybe just a little), but more in the I wish I had been more in the loop, I wish my daughter would have confided in me more, I hate that so many other people were right while I though they were wrong because I didn't have all the information.  That's it right there.  I don't like being in the damn dark!  Sigh...  Let someone else do the driving right now.  Maybe that's my new mantra.  I'm not sure it can overtake the fear of the unknown, of the dark.

Let someone else do the driving right now. 

But I like to be in control.
Let someone else do the driving right now. 

I want to know when we're leaving, where we're going, and when we'll get there.
Let someone else do the driving right now. 

My phone is silent and it's making me crazy.
Let someone else do the driving right now.

This is exhausting; why can't everything be like it was?
Let someone else do the driving right now. 

I don't like the dark.
Let someone else do the driving right now.  

I'm scared.
Let someone else do the driving right now. 

I was isolating before, now I've refused to let the world in and think they're all a bunch of fucking assholes anyway.  Go figure.  I did talk to a friend, but she's the least judgmental, sweetest human being I have ever met, and I was on the phone with her Tuesday when Lindsay's counselor called so she knew something was up.  I have been ignoring calls and letting them go to voicemail, I cringe when I listen to the messages, and dread getting a text.  Tonight I'll go home after meeting with my client (assuming the facility therapist doesn't want to meet with us at 5:45 or 6) and spend the entire evening alone because Rob is going to darts playoffs tonight.  He needs to do something, he's balled up all of his stress and is at risk of having a stroke if he doesn't find a way to reduce his tension.  I have no idea what I'll do with myself; normally I make dinner and watch a movie with Lindsay.  Jesus!  Is this what it's going to be like when she's out of the house?  Are we going to isolate and withdraw util we have no support network to depend on?  Well fuck.  So tonight I'll try to read.  Yalom probably won't hold my attention and Catching Fire will be only slightly more useful.  I'll stare at FB, scrolling without seeing, refreshing and doing the same over and over and over and over again.  This doesn't feel like a FB status update, so I'm not going to find support there.  The whole time I'm trying to occupy myself I'll check my email endlessly, waiting for who knows what, while going through the cable menu over and over again, hoping something new shows up.

When I've done all of those things 15 or 20 times, I'll roll over in bed, close my eyes, and cry myself to sleep.  My words here feel like they have power to help, and then I lose that power and fall into despair.  I am not a shining example of good mental health or successful coping skills.

My evening awaits.