She Is Not a Duck, Part 7

A Mother’s Journey into the world of Mental Health and Spectrum Disorder Challenges

She walks like a duck, talks like a duck, but she is not a duck

Chapter 6 The year of Epiphanies

After a summer filled to the brim with ‘known to be successful’ atmospheres, Sarah’s meltdowns were limited to dinner time and weekends. This was a relief to me, though I didn’t say it, out loud.

No Mom wants to feel like they can cope better if their child is busy elsewhere. Imagine the perception from other people who simply didn’t understand?

We maintained the psychiatric appointments which were reduced to twice a month versus weekly. We had a decent routine going.

The summer was quite successful on the happy meter. As long as Sarah was in summer theatre or swimming at our town lake, she had no blowups. She was still able to save them for the privacy of our home.

A pattern was established, by default, with the entire family aimed at pleasing Sarah. Plans were altered, meals were picked by her, she always had to be ‘first.’ And we accommodated.

It was just easier.

Wrong, for sure. But, easier. We were living in survival mode.

A new school, the Junior High comprised of 7th and 8th grades, and lots of changes were looming for Sarah.

The irony with how her brain worked, was that life changes of magnitude would hardly cause a blip on her radar. It was always an unexpected little thing that would throw her into a tailspin.

We had a couple of weeks before the start of school to make sure that the doctor’s recommendation of yet another medicine would be effective. The test drive began.

The addition of Abilify to her prescription regime worked immediately for Sarah.

Webmd.com describes it, with the generic name Aripiprazole:

Aripiprazole is used to treat certain mental/mood disorders (such as bipolar disorder, schizophrenia, Tourette’s syndrome, and irritability associated with autistic disorder). It may also be used in combination with other medication to treat depression. Aripiprazole is known as an antipsychotic drug (atypical type). It works by helping to restore the balance of certain natural chemicals in the brain (neurotransmitters).

Since additional diagnoses are still up in the air, based on her age, symptoms such as explosive anger, nervousness, and erratic mood swings warrant this little God-sent pill. It took her edge off.

I had to become a mad scientist, or possibly a pharmacist’s assistant, right in my kitchen. The administration of Abilify was very specific. Half a dose with breakfast and a full pill at bedtime. I had purchased a pill cutter, pill containers with days separated by morning and night. I had one-week containers and full month containers.

Metadate, Prozac, Abilify, and gadgets required space and her depression made me choose the highest shelf in a cabinet.

The flurry of collecting documents, filling out forms, gathering school assessments all preceded the start of school. I craved preparedness and strongly desired a smooth transition.

Meetings were held. Lots of meetings.

There was a determination that the school was willing to accommodate where they could, however, they had yet to witness Sarah in action. They were limited to the confines of what the State had in place.

Foreboding and prayers.

Where Sarah was most the challenged had immediately smacked her right in the face.

Noise. Drama. Hustle and bustle.

Understanding the flow of this bigger school with students from different towns and different backgrounds had burst through her bubble of intimate comfort. Kids can be cruel.

Her coping default was ‘fight’, not ‘flight.’

No longer within walking distance, she also had to take the bus with her older sister.

She desperately wanted to be her sister, yet she wanted to take her down and outshine her. Idolization and hatred were co-mingled by the hour.

The resentments she was born with, not being first or the only child rocketed to the forefront.

She snuck cigarettes to the bus stop, took the persona of a thug, and would physically lash out to wrest away the position of her alpha female rival.

Our family was collectively, and now obviously individually greatly affected, too, by the mental illness challenges from which Sarah had been suffering.

Sarah’s diagnoses were not contained to her and the results were bleeding and seeping, into her siblings.

The first month of school was filled with meetings to address her academic abilities versus her behavioral disruptiveness.

Suspensions were the school’s answer.

They were not the answer.

My first epiphany was the realization that you simply can’t punish mental illness.

You can’t punish away mental illness.

She wasn’t purposeful in her anger or vile reactions.

In moments of balance and quiet, she’d look at me with pain-filled, glassy brown eyes, and begged to be different. Begging, actually, to be the same as everyone else. She knew that socially acceptable behaviors came naturally to others.

They did not come easy to her.

My brain was cooking to find solutions.

My second epiphany was that we could help her better.

“Let’s remove the known stressors,” I bargained with the school administration. My initial plan included:

· I will drive her to school so the bus drama won’t amp her up to start her day.

· Let’s switch her into the choir class; she loves music and finds comfort in singing.

· Cafeteria time is the pinnacle of noise and social pressure ~ maybe we can switch time slots?

I saw the begrudging acceptance in their eyes. They were at a loss and succumbed to my ideas.

The ink was still wet on this plan when she quit Choir.

A girl was looking at her. In her mind, she felt threatened by the ‘staring.’ She won’t go back to class.

Most teachers wanted to teach, not run defense. Sarah was often relegated to the hallway in their effort to minimize her classroom distractions.

The revolving door of suspensions became routine.

The School’s epiphany is to reduce Sarah’s school day by half. They will give her core classes in the morning. I was to pick her up right before the lunch bell and she would be homeschooled for the remainder of the day.

Really? God help me. God help her.

• Thank you for letting me share the 7th installment of my series. We will continue to travel through the hallways of the psychiatric world, the school system, and our family dynamics. I look forward to sharing more and hope you will see that none of us are alone.