The following post was drafted in 2014. A lot has happened since then.
Are you surprised?
Yeah, me neither.
Maybe I'll find the focus to catch you up on the last 5 years. In the meantime, this will have to suffice as I am exhausted from trying to recall email addresses and passwords associated with this blog.
***
I have no idea where the past year has gone.
They say time flies when you are having fun. But I wouldn't exactly call the last 12 months... FUN. It's been a challenging adventure for sure, and shows no signs of letting up.
Let's play catch up...
Cinderella is now 17 and a senior in high school. She was hospitalized a third time over the Christmas holiday, at her request... vis a vis a note which I found on my desk one Friday morning after she had already left for school:
I immediately texted her at school. She was ok. She was grateful and relieved to know that she had been heard and I had her back...as I always have. We would talk more when she came home after school.
I called the National Suicide Hotline.
I called her therapist.
I called Prince Charming.
All agreed she was not in any immediate danger. The note was her way of opening a dialogue. And talk, we did. I asked all the usual questions: How long have you felt this way? What triggered it? What have you been doing to cope? Did it come up in your weekly sessions with your therapist?
She felt she needed to go back into the hospital. Spending the weekend with Prince Charming was important so she could go shopping for gifts for her family. It was a week before Christmas. She knew she would spend it in the hospital so she wanted to make sure her gifts would be under our trees.
Her hospital stay was an absolute CLUSTERFUCK of mismanagement by an inexperienced social worker who was put in charge of her case. In the interest of brevity I'll spare you the details other than to say there were MANY phone calls between myself, Prince Charming, the social worker and Director of the hospital to thwart an early discharge the day AFTER Christmas. There may have been some yelling involved. And a letter. And numerous apologies from Administrative staff assuring us that while there were no do-overs for Cinderella, steps would be taken to ensure this doesn't happen again to another family.
Cinderella spent two weeks in the hospital, and another two weeks in a day program in an effort to solidify the skills she had learned and give her greater chances for a success re-entry back into normal life. In the months following, she has stumbled a bit. And recovered. And stumbled a bit more. But I am happy to report amidst the minor setbacks she has successfully ended a toxic relationship, attended an event for accepted students to one of her chosen colleges and registered for classes/inquired about housing/researched financial aid all on her own (well, ok that involved some gentle pushing on my part) and has maintained an 80+ average in ALL of her classes.
Yes, I am proud.
(And yes, I still sleep with all of the OTC drugs, razors and knives in my bedroom.)
