A Tearful Apology

Yesterday afternoon, Danielle called my stepmother to apologize for her lie.  She sobbed out her tearful apology, saying that she had made a mistake and had "misunderstood" something that we said.

My stepmother seemed pretty gracious in accepting the apology, but she did ask Danielle if it was really a misunderstanding, or if it was just a lie.

What did we say that Danielle claimed to misunderstand?

During our family therapy appointment, when it came out that Danielle was off her meds, we said we needed to make sure that my stepmother (or father) actually watched Danielle take her pill, so that we could be sure she wasn't skipping her dose.

How that managed to get twisted into it is my stepmother's fault Danielle wasn't taking her pills is beyond me.

Despite Danielle being back on her medications since Thursday evening, things still aren't back to normal here.  When I tried to talk to Danielle about her lie, she called me a bunch of names, and walked off, shouting some elementary school version of I'm a mirror and everything you stay goes back to you!

Real mature.  This coming from an almost-17-year-old.

An hour later, Danielle came back and tearfully apologized to me as well.  I accepted her apology, but I also realize that her apologies are absolutely meaningless.

As I wrote about in my old blog, there are three components to an apology:

1. The apology itself.
2. Making amends for the wrongdoing.
3. Not repeating the act again.

Danielle's an absolute pro at the first item on the list, but I can't think of a time where she's managed to complete the other two.

Sure, she might be extremely sorry in the moment, but all of the regret in the world doesn't seem to be sufficient to motivate her to change her behavior.

Nothing changes her behavior.

Maybe she's just not capable.  Certainly her doctors, therapist and teachers think she should be able to do better.

Me?  I don't know.  I worry about her future.  In 13 months, she'll turn 18, and she'll be out on her own.  FosterEema and I have had some long, hard talks lately, and we both agree we are going to ask Danielle to leave (if she doesn't go on her own accord) when she becomes a legal adult.

It's not a decision we like.  Danielle will turn 18 long before she graduates high school.  Although we did discuss the possibility of her staying until she graduates, the latest explosion makes it clear it's not a workable option.

Danielle is currently a minor, so we have no choice but to put up with her fits of temper, defiance, name-calling and episodes of violence.  Once she is 18, we are no longer obligated to put up with this sort of behavior in our home.

We know Danielle won't be ready to launch.

We are tired of being verbally abused and traumatized by our child's rages.

It's not a pretty choice.

Stepping Out of my Life

I feel like I have, for the past few weeks, pretty much stepped out of my regular life.  We've had a lot going on around here, most of which doesn't involve Danielle.

I spent almost a week caring for an extended family member after a surgery, actually spending less time there than I'd planned.  While there, when I wasn't working or performing care-giving duties, I spent my time plugging away on the novel I am writing.  In years past, I've thought about joining NaNoWriMo, but the thought of completing a first draft novel in 30 days seemed an impossible goal.

It turns out that writing a first draft in 30 days is not impossible.  I'm to the point in my story where the tale of the bad guy has reached its conclusion, and all that's left is the wrap-up for the two protagonists and the epilogue.  I should be able to easily finish this before Friday, which means I will have completed my first draft in less than 28 days.

Now I will say that getting this done in such a short amount of time has been pretty much all-consuming.  If I haven't been working or sleeping, I've been writing.  In a way, I almost feel like I've been having an affair on my life.  My story has become a mistress who jealously consumes all my free time.

It's been fun, though.

As for Danielle, it appears that the medications are making a positive difference.  She has been on the new anti-depressant for a couple of months now, and the new atypical anti-psychotic for a month.  Although it hasn't fixed all of her problems, it seems the combination of medications have really taken the wind out of her sails when it comes to her simmering, boiling, never-ceasing rage.

Although Danielle's rage has pretty much dissipated, what is left is a child who still has many concerning problems.  Her lack of motivation in life regarding her education and future employment will not serve her well. She also seems to be developing some very unhealthy eating habits (refusing nearly all food prepared at home) and her personal hygiene is sorely lacking.  Although she does shower regularly, she rarely launders her clothes or sheets and fails to brush her teeth and wash her hair.

On Friday, I discovered that she still doesn't use toilet paper, despite the abundance of it in the house.

Now that her anger is gone, she seems to be developing two new problems.  The first merely annoying problem is that she constantly complains about minor physical ailments, especially when she's away spending the night with friends or grandparents.  Almost every time she leaves the house, we will get a phone call from her begging us to take her to the ER or urgent care center.   Her response very much feels like she is demanding an amputation for treatment of a splinter, and we are constantly telling her she needs to do x for the treatment of minor ailment y, but she doesn't want to listen.

The second issue is puzzling.  She will often come home from school and exuberantly throw her arms around one of us and say, "I love you so much!" She'll squeal the way teens are prone to do over a cute stuffed animal or a baby; sometimes she will even try to kiss us.  Although Danielle might be expressing her genuine feelings of the moment, it doesn't feel authentic.  I constantly find myself waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Being on the receiving end of this feels very confusing.  From our perspective, we haven't changed anything in terms of our relationship with her or how we parent.  This behavior has only come up over the last couple of weeks, and I'm having a hard time adjusting to being treated like the greatest thing since sliced bread, when for years I've been told I was the worst thing that had ever happened to Danielle.  Granted, this all may very well be attributed to her new medication regimen, but it's still hard to accept.

I guess neither of these issues are as bad as the rages we saw before, but they still make our house feel very abnormal.

If Only It Were That Simple

Since Danielle has been with us, we've had to interface with a long list of professionals.  We've met with teachers, therapists, social workers, and each one has been different.  Some have been helpful, some not.  Some have been easy to work with, others frustrating.  A few have been downright destructive.

But the one professional who wins the prize, in terms of our absolute frustration level, is Danielle's pediatrician.

Danielle went in for a check-up yesterday.  The point of the visit was a medication follow-up, since she started an anti-depressant two months ago.  Although we've seen an improvement in her mood and behavior, one of the things we've noticed is that she she sleeps excessively, and she's always tired.  This was a problem before she started medication, but now it's much, much worse.

The doctor's response?

She seemed to think that Danielle was sleeping so much because she was bored.  She told us that we should sit down as a family and play board games one night a week.

This is, by the way, the same professional who suggested we withhold Danielle's allowance as a way to put a stop to her endless temper tantrums and rages.

If only it were that simple.

Better Doesn't Make Everything Okay

About ten days ago, Paula over at NaCl H20 Times wrote about how tired she was of being knocked down, beat up, and judged.

[L]ast night I got blindsided again. Some really hurtful things were said about me and behind my back and I'm ready to runaway and never come back. I know that when you get knocked down, you're supposed to stand up again, but I'm losing the fight in me. I'm sick to death of being judged by people. I am tired of Christians being so dang mean. Those invisible knives that keep getting plunged deep into my soul are starting to bleed me to death.

I have only one thing to say to Paula:

I hear you, loud and clear!

I could say the exactly same thing.

Danielle has been home from respite for  about a month, and on medication for a little over three weeks, and things have been measurably better.  We've gone a month without major tantrums, threats or acts of violence.  Things have been really pretty decent, which is a huge change from the way things were before we sent her off to respite.  The break from each other and the new medication have made huge improvements in our child's attitude.

And that's great.  Things are a lot better.

But that doesn't make everything okay.  I feel this external pressure that I should somehow be automatically ready to "start over" or to "forgive and forget" about all the violence, threats, false allegations, and verbal aggression that has plagued our family for years.  I feel like family members, friends, and the so-called caring professionals think that we should be able to magically start over fresh, as if none of the things that have defined our relationship with our child had ever occurred.

Although I do have the capacity to forgive, I will never be able to forget.  I am too battered, bruised and traumatized to be able to put everything behind us and act as if it nothing has happened. I feel completely used up, and when it comes to my kid, I don't feel like I have very much left to give her.  I'm really very tired.

I shared this with our new therapist this week.  I mentioned during our family session that I felt like the past name-calling, verbal aggression, threats and acts of physical violence had completely damaged my relationship with my child.  I spoke of how when Danielle behaves nicely towards me, it feels insincere, as often she's putting on the sweet charm to convince me to give her something she wants.  I shared how I'm really struggling to have much in the way of tender feelings towards her, because of the horrifying abuse she's heaped upon us over the past few years.

The therapist nodded and claimed to understand.  She turned to Danielle and asked her if she wanted to improve her relationship with us.

Danielle was staring off into space, completely disengaged.  When the therapist called her on her daydreaming, she sat up with a start.

"What?" Danielle asked.  "Oh, umm, I guess so," she finally mumbled.

I found the session rather troubling.  Danielle was evasive and disengaged, and seemed unwilling to commit to the idea that violence and threats in our home are unacceptable.

There's no question that things are substantially better in our home, but that doesn't suddenly make everything okay, especially when it comes to our relationships.  A few days ago, Danielle came home from school, extremely upset.  Apparently one of her straight friends at school had called one of her gay friends a nasty pejorative, and she came home in tears.

I felt more emotion about the gay friend who had been the victim of the verbal bashing than I did about my own child's feelings of upset.  I imagine I should have felt more, but I'm to the point where I I've been kicked so many times that I do not have the strength to stand up again.  I cared that Danielle was upset, but I simply couldn't create much emotional energy to do anything about it.

"I'm sorry this happened," I told her.  I listened to her tearful explanations, but I didn't want to engage them too deeply.  I didn't have the emotional bandwidth available for a multi-hour conversation, as so many of her upsets seem to require.  I was facing a looming deadline, and I really needed to get back to work.

Some of my family members seem to think that I should be viewing Danielle's medication as some sort of magic cure that will solve everything that ails our family.  I don't think that a prescription can be the Holy Grail in that sense.  Yes, it's clear the medication is helping and making things better for us and our child, but it can't undo everything that's transpired.  Although the drug may very well help her mood, it won't suddenly improve her weak problem-solving skills, her lack of good judgment, or guarantee she will pass the state's required academic tests.

So better is really better, but it doesn't solve all our problems or magically make everything okay.

The Doctor Medicates

Finally, after years of begging, our pediatrician finally agreed to write a prescription for medication.

I'm not sure that the selected drug is the best choice given the circumstances, but our state-funded medical insurance has specific rules about psychotropic medications, and it seems they go with the cheapest one first.  If it fails to work, the doctor will incrementally increase the dosage to the safe maximum; after that she'll switch to other drugs.

It's a start, anyway.

The doctor was finally convinced when we showed her the long list of acting-out and crazy behaviors that Danielle has engaged in over the summer, both at home and while at respite.  The list included things like threats of harm to self, pets and other people, going AWOL, paranoid ideations, violence against others, endless manipulations, lying, stealing, and a really disturbing act of self-harm.

The list was pretty impressive, and the doctor was not amused.  She gave Danielle a tongue-lashing, telling her that it was time she grow up, quit acting like a little child, and to knock off the drama.  She told FosterEema that Danielle was behaving just like a four-year-old, throwing tantrums, being self-absorbed, and engaging in all kinds of irrational thinking.

I doubt the lecture did any good, but it certainly made Danielle squirm in the doctor's office.

I hope the medication does the child some good, but the doctor admonished Danielle and told her that she needs to change her behavior. The medication might help, the doctor explained, but ultimately Danielle is responsible for her choices.