One Week...

One week. 

One week of tearful visits, daily phone calls, daily trips to drop off things needed. 

One week of guilt, questions, more questions, and tears. 

One week of praying to God, the gods, the universe. 

One week of fighting my own depression and anxiety in order to be able to function. 

One week since my baby was admitted and I miss her more than I'd ever thought possible. I know she's getting the help she needs and it's just a matter of finding the right combination of medication and therapy to help her dig her way out of the pit of despair. She didn't get there overnight and she's not going to be better overnight. 

There are several observations that I've made during this week, though: 

Friendship. I have her phone and 3 'friends' have texted to ask if she's ok---   she needs new friends. I have a great network of support, though. Friends that I know will be there always. Friends that have texted or messaged daily or semi-daily to ask how she is and how I am. Friends that sent her cards, fuzzy socks and a friend that even collected books for the unit, because she said the other girls were bored. 

Family: I have a large family and maybe it's just that they missed the post or don't want to bother me, but their silence speaks loudly. Her father called the unit once and they told him that they'd call him back, he didn't answer. I haven't heard from him since Wednesday. She's watching and again, silence speaks loudly.

People: I've watched other parents, as we've waited for visitation to start and as a previous medical assistant, but also a self-proclaimed 'expert' in nonverbals, I've learned a lot about people and have bit my tongue til it bled. Here goes... The lady at the desk is simply doing her job and you must follow the same rules that the rest of us have to follow. Yes, coming to visitation is kind of inconvenient, but it's your kid, put your damn cell phone in the locker and attend to your child's needs. Your transgendered child is perfect just the way he is and might be a little less depressed if you'd quit calling him by female pronouns. There is a serious need for family units, where you can check your entire family in and get help, because you sir are an egotistical ass and could use some therapy. There are a lot of parents that are simply overwhelmed by the mental health needs of their child...we should give parents more tools for their parenting toolbox, in this regard. Laughter sometimes helps. Blue eyeshadow has never looked good on anyone.

I could write a book on this topic and she's already talked about us doing that, when she gets out, because writing in therapeutic. This is my motivation to get my ass together and get caught up on my school work today. PhD Jess will have a greater voice than flunked out of school Jess. 

To those that have reached out, thank you. Your words have meant a lot. 

To those of you who are agast that I've put our business out there for the world to see, you are part of the problem. Mental illness is no different than those allergies you keep bitching about in your status posts.