It's been building since February...this extreme agitation and depression. Maybe it's been building his entire life. It all came to a head one night a couple of weeks ago. Between a bad mix of medications and an extreme level of frustration and sadness --he lost it! He hit a wall....literally, and a couple of doors.
His eyes were glazed, he was not himself. He was not the boy that I know and love. Things didn't get any better in the days that followed this massive meltdown. Everyone in this entire house was on egg shells for days. We all took turns leaving the house to get some relief from the incessant talking, arguing and complaining and screaming. I wish I could play a tape of this huge 200 pound boy screaming like a rock star -only there was no musicality. We all prayed that he wouldn't get wound up each evening as we were all winding down with extreme fatigue.
For months I've been frustrated with the medication process. The trial and error. Adding this, taking away that. Nothing making things better, some making things worse. The last medication change seemed to make him more agitated than ever. I wanted a clean slate. A clean canvas to paint on, to add each color one layer at time until we had just the right mix --the work of art that I know he can be. I wanted a clear picture of what is really going on inside that body and that mind of his. Is this Aspergers? Is there something more? I wanted answers. I wanted something to help him, to help all of us. I wanted a miracle. To find it we would have to do something drastic.
I didn't want to make these changes in a hospital setting, yet I was too worn out to fight the inevitable. When the aggression became physically dangerous, when there was damage to our home, threats to my younger son and physical posturing towards me...I knew I had no choice. When the raging late at night put all so on edge that we could not sleep a wink all night. I realized...something had to give. We all have the right have peace in our home. We could not allow one person's mental issues to hold us all hostage.
Who ever thought I would have to make such a torturous decision? It certainly is not a part of any dream I have for my children. Of course I never dreamed that high school would be a place of pain and anguish for my child. I just assumed I would have a "Cosby" family full of happy children, whom I would love, nurture and push to their highest potential. None of that dream included therapy and medications during their adolescent years.
He couldn't talk his way out of this one. This time, the doctor and an evaluation team made the decision to put him in a safe environment so that we could make the necessary changes to his medication to help him.
I kept my head held high as we walked through this process but my body and my brain were a scrambled mess. I had to keep moving through it and keep moving through the day's details. Soon the emotions and fatigue would catch up with me.
A few weeks ago...I dreamed of a white padded room. I think then I knew, if something didn't change soon, that is where I would end up.
To be continued...
His eyes were glazed, he was not himself. He was not the boy that I know and love. Things didn't get any better in the days that followed this massive meltdown. Everyone in this entire house was on egg shells for days. We all took turns leaving the house to get some relief from the incessant talking, arguing and complaining and screaming. I wish I could play a tape of this huge 200 pound boy screaming like a rock star -only there was no musicality. We all prayed that he wouldn't get wound up each evening as we were all winding down with extreme fatigue.
For months I've been frustrated with the medication process. The trial and error. Adding this, taking away that. Nothing making things better, some making things worse. The last medication change seemed to make him more agitated than ever. I wanted a clean slate. A clean canvas to paint on, to add each color one layer at time until we had just the right mix --the work of art that I know he can be. I wanted a clear picture of what is really going on inside that body and that mind of his. Is this Aspergers? Is there something more? I wanted answers. I wanted something to help him, to help all of us. I wanted a miracle. To find it we would have to do something drastic.
I didn't want to make these changes in a hospital setting, yet I was too worn out to fight the inevitable. When the aggression became physically dangerous, when there was damage to our home, threats to my younger son and physical posturing towards me...I knew I had no choice. When the raging late at night put all so on edge that we could not sleep a wink all night. I realized...something had to give. We all have the right have peace in our home. We could not allow one person's mental issues to hold us all hostage.
Who ever thought I would have to make such a torturous decision? It certainly is not a part of any dream I have for my children. Of course I never dreamed that high school would be a place of pain and anguish for my child. I just assumed I would have a "Cosby" family full of happy children, whom I would love, nurture and push to their highest potential. None of that dream included therapy and medications during their adolescent years.
He couldn't talk his way out of this one. This time, the doctor and an evaluation team made the decision to put him in a safe environment so that we could make the necessary changes to his medication to help him.
I kept my head held high as we walked through this process but my body and my brain were a scrambled mess. I had to keep moving through it and keep moving through the day's details. Soon the emotions and fatigue would catch up with me.
A few weeks ago...I dreamed of a white padded room. I think then I knew, if something didn't change soon, that is where I would end up.
To be continued...