How do you write about mental health or lack of?

I jinxed the weekend by writing on FB that Z had two great days.  She was really happy and fun.  Then she got stuck in her cycle of perserveration where she talks about the same topic over and over and over again until she escalates to a full blown tantrum.  The topic can be a  favorite and fun, it doesn't matter, it's like a record (remember those?) getting stuck.  Sometimes I can stop the pattern if you catch at the very beginning but not always, nothing is ever consistent. Sunday we had to leave the pool party early, even before dinner because she was perseverating.  She started crying and sat on my lap, which sometimes can signal the end of the episode but when she grabbed my glasses off my face I knew we are headed for trouble so I suggested we go.  She was very willing to leave.  I didn't want her to escalate at the party even though it was all family, Z stands out enough already.  I don't like others to see her totally melt down and it's scary for other kids.  Having a deaf child in the car (she had her cochlears off because she was swimming) is the ultimate time out, I can totally ignore her and sometimes that makes her mad.  She started yelling in the car and in my desperation while driving I signed that if she didn't calm down I would call the police. And it worked!  She went back to respite care.

The next day she did great at respite, I picked her up from their family gathering and she was excited about going to gymnastics and seeing dad. She did great in her little gymnastics class, she's excited to do a flip on the rings.  On the way home she started to perseverate about her bed at home.  We sit down for dinner and soon she's yelling and threw her place mat at me.  I had already removed her plate and drink, that's from past experience of cleaning up when I didn't!  She grabbed for me and hitting, Dave and I are trying to escort (aka drag) her to her room.  In the process we have to get off the cochlears and she got in one good swing at me.  We get her to her room and now we have to listen to banging and kicking her door and yelling.  Not pleasant to continue eating our dinner.  Dave takes the dog out for a walk, leaving his dinner for when it's quieter.  I finish mine quickly so I can clean up.  My philosophy is that if you act up during a meal then you aren't very hungry so as far as Z was concerned when she comes out of her room dinner is over.  I always think it's interesting that she never asks for things after her tantrums, she knows!  After about 20 minutes she seems calm so I go in her room and she has wet her pants on the floor, which is typical.  I have her clean it up and put her wet clothes in the washer and get in the bath.  She had her meds before dinner so she's now getting sleepy.  Bath, pj's and to bed.  That's how it goes, in the time span of an hour she went from happy and proud doing flips on the rings at gym to being violent and getting dragged to her room.  That can be a day in life of Z. Whew!!!!!

Revelation in the shower

Before I jumped in the shower this am I read parts of the morning paper and was really touched by the comments of the victims' families of the Tucson shooting regarding Jared Loughner.  Here's group of people that have every right to be vindictive and vengeful but all felt that the decision for Loughner to get treatment for his mental illness and then a possible trial at a later date was the compassionate and right decision.  Wow, that's the kind of people we need in our country! 

The question for myself is, can I be equally as forgiving and compassionate about all the staff in the hearing impaired community that wouldn't or couldn't deal with Z's mental illness?   And especially those that were down right mean to her.  And now because our family will be split up and Z will move from home, can I let it go?  With the survivors in Tuscon as a guide, maybe I can.

Will our journey take us to Florida?

Several weeks ago the school district decided they wanted to send Z to the National Deaf Academy in FL.  It's the only school in the country for deaf kids with mental illness.  Of course, the bureaucracy about which agency would pay reached all the way up to several state department level meetings.  I was sure the decision would stay muddled there and never be resolved.  But I was proven wrong today when the state reversed it's decision and it appears they are going to pay their part.  No details yet.

I have such mixed feelings.  On one hand it could be a life changing opportunity for Z that we cannot pass up.  And it's not forever.  But she's only 11 years old and has been through so much.  It will split up our family, I will go back and forth.

I'm still so angry at the school district, I can't help but think if they had just done their job we wouldn't be where we are now.  Z wouldn't have leave her family and friends and all those that love her and go across country to school.  With the exception of one teacher, Z has never been in a class that has had a teacher of the hearing impaired, deaf peers, a curriculum and staff willing and able to deal with her behavior.  This year she has had NO services for deaf kids.  She has been shuffled between teachers and schools.  I could go on and on but the bottom line is that the district has made major mistakes and hopefully we won't get pushed into a legal situation because they will lose, big time.  Having said that, there have been a few great and caring people at school, that have actually saved Z and the school district!

I hope that I can deal with this change without my usual "cry baby" coping so I help Z make the move.

Touching momemts

There is always so much chaos surrounding Z that I have to make myself note the touching and funny things she does.  This week she was trying to tell me that she "farted".  It answered my question about, what does a fart sound like to a deaf person?   Now I know, Z held her nose, pointed to her bottom and said "woo woo".  It was hard not to laugh, she didn't quite have to noise right but it was such a kid thing to do!

We were waiting is in line yesterday to get lab work done, it was a long line, everyone lined up outside the lab door.  An elderly man who looked very frail and sick came in with his daughter and people made room so he could sit down to wait.  Z went up to him to shake his hand ( she does that all the time, sort of a mini - Walmart greeter) and I explained that she was deaf because he was trying to chat with her and called her back to wait with me.  She patted his shoulder as she walked back and he said "I'll remember you for the rest of my life".  The woman behind me started to cry. Z has those moments of compassion that touch so many. 

Reminds me of Christmas Mass when she dropped my hand during the Lord's Prayer and walked over to an elderly man across the aisle and took his hand.  He was very tall so the contrast of this little girl in her red, satin Christmas dress looking up at him was a picture.  There was lots of "aahh's" and after Mass a man said to me that what Z had done "made his whole evening special".

That's our girl, she has this compassionate side that is so touching and spontaneous that you just have to love her!

Where to start?

I have been wanting to do this blog for a long time but it's so hard to know where to begin.  As our 8th anniversary of Z coming into our family is approaching I decided the time to start is now.  I think about over the 8 years and the challenges never seem to end.  But then the sweet, funny and endearing times always over shadow the often despair.  We didn't know when I picked up the little 4 year old girl who was deaf from the shelter what other issues we would deal with.  Her mental health issues multiply the challenges and make it so difficult to find a place for this little girl that doesn't fit anywhere except at home.

Somewhere I read that you should write in a blog like you would write to your sister, the above is not how I would write to my sister!  Tonight I'm remembering how not long after Z came to us, she decided to make her own earmolds ( she wore hearing aides at the time) out of playdough and shoved hot, pink playdough in her ears.  It was a Holiday so I knew that I didn't want to sit in an ER for hours to deal with playdough so I had Dave hold her head while I carefully picked playdough out of her ears with a tweezers.  I got it all out and the lesson learned was to better supervise the playdough.  It's funny memories that I want to write about along with the agonizing moments that come with Z.