Thursday, October 20, 2011

My seven year old wants to kill himself.

So, here I am. Back on Blogger. Reuniting myself with the girl with flour in her hair. Granted, most of you have no recollection of who I am anyway. After that year long tropical vacation, I didn't have a lot of time to blog. At least they told me it was a tropical vacation. They handed me a fruity drink with an umbrella in it, I gulped it down. I felt a little dizzy, but hey, you know. Alcohol, right? I didn't really question the white jacket with the straps on it, I just thought it was nice they were helping me to my room. The view was fabulous...palm trees, blue waters gently lapping the white sand. It seemed a little small, but my vision never has been all that great. Several months later, I woke up and realized that the palm tree poster was torn at the edges and it hadn't been a hammock I'd been laying in. The bars over the window weren't very encouraging either.

No tropical vacation, unfortunately. The past year has been a haze of depression, bipolar diagnoses, manic-depressive episodes, disassociative disorder diagnosis...chemical cocktails, medications, antidepressants...Lamictal, Paxil, Wellbutrin, Valium, Clonipin, Seroquel, Trazadone, Atarax, Cymbalta, ... many at the same time. 7 therapists, a drug pushing pyschiatrist...weekly appointments, recommended electroshock treatment. Surprised they didn't offer the lobotomy at a special price.  1/2 off the procedure if the electroshock fries your brain.

And all that would make fine blog fodder and perhaps will once I get back into the swing of things. But all that has been pushed aside. Why?

Because my seven year old wants to kill himself. He had written on his wall with a marker, "this is a hard world for me". At school, apparently, he's an angel. Struggling with every academic aspect and very likely to see second grade again, but he has beautiful behavior. At home, he's an aggressive, violent monster. Screams, throws things, hits...he ran to his bedroom the other afternoon after school and I gave him a few minutes to cool off. I went up and knocked, opening the door just in time to see him stuff a paper under his pillow. I asked him about it, and he reluctantly gave it to me. It said he was the "wrong kid", he was a "jerk", etc. Then the very carefully drawn picture of him, being shot. Then the next frame is a tombstone with his name on it. And beneath a line of dirt, he's drawn himself with x's over his eyes and mommy crying over his grave, with a flower. 

He's already in play therapy with an amazing therapist, because his mom is a fucking lunatic. So, now I discover I passed down my twisted brain to a wonderful, amazing, creative child. Who wants to kill himself. Who cries if he isn't in a violent rage. He's seven. SEVEN! Life is not supposed to be so hard. My grandpa was in his early 80s when he shot himself. But Nick...Nick is seven.

What do you do when your seven year old wants to be dead? Seriously, what would you do? I can be with him, I can watch him 24 hours a day. But I can't change his brain, his emotions. What do you do? What do you do???

10 comments:

Nancy@ifevolutionworks.com said...

First off...welcome back. You were missed in blogland!

Second...I wish I had advice for you with your son.

Sending you nothing but hugs and encouragement and faith.

Brian Miller said...

what is it that he wants?

does he feel safe?

how do you respond when he does this?

are you holding him accountable?

sorry for all the questions, but i do counseling with kids so i try to garner as much info as possible...

Unknown Mami said...

I'm so sorry.

I have no advice.

I myself have a messed up brain. I hope my children do not inherit it. It's not fun. I'm glad to have access to medication, but I'd rather not need it.

Veronica Lee said...

Welcome back to blogosphere! You have been missed!

I have no advice either and prayers are all I can offer. But the fact that he is already seeing a therapist is a great move.

Sending you lots of hugs!!!

Ambra said...

I don't know what you do.

I don't know what I would do.

I do know that all you can do is your best with the knowledge you have to work with and the resources available.

A therapist taught me that when Isaac was very young. I try to remember it when I start beating myself up about not doing the right things for Isaac.

My thoughts and prayers are with you, Dawn.

Joshua said...

I still have you in my Reader, and it is good to see you again.

I wish I had advice for you, but what I can give is support. My ear is yours if you ever need to rant. And I'll be here to read whatever you post.

Angela said...

that's hard.
my son is autistic, and i'm thinking that may not be accurate. i'm kind of thinking he may be more along the lines of bipolar. he's not even 4 yet, but you can tell.

every day, i ask myself, how did this happen, what did i do? i, too, passed my crazy brain to my son, i feel. i have bouts of depression and serious anxiety and panic disorder. crippling, really.

i have no idea what you do, other than try whatever you can with therapy and medication, if it's deemed he needs it. that's the road we're on, anyway.

and hide all the shoelaces and plastic bags.

good luck, friend. welcome back. i hope both of your minds can find some peace.

Katie said...

Glad to see you using your blog as an outlet. (((HUGS)))) Have went through a lot in the last year myself. My 4 year old has a lot of issues after my divorce. Praying for you and your son.

Amanda said...

I'm sorry, Dawn. I wish I knew what to say but I can't imagine. I know a little about a 'troubled' child but somehow Aidan seems to have grown out of most of it. And I never had to deal with what you are dealing with. I'm here if you ever want to talk or rant or scream - I'm here for ya.

Karen Mortensen said...

I have been wondering where you were. I am sorry for all that you have gone through.
I wish I knew what to say. All I can say or do is be here for you and send hugs.
I am having some issues of my own too. I find out I really do have Fragile X. It causes all kinds of lovely emotional things. I have finally found someone who knows what to do.
All the best to you and your son.

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