Cutting to the Chase (Part II)

(Continued from Part I)

The revelation of Cinderella's cutting behaviors was shocking to say the least.
At first I didn't want to believe it.
"Are you sure? I've never seen any evidence of it...how can this be?"
I was a SAHM for fuck's sake! How did I not see this?????
PrinceCharming's reaction was similar.
She's just looking for attention.
Maybe.
Maybe not.
Nevertheless it was out in the open now. To whatever extent she was doing it, she was now talking about it openly and asking for help.
This was the reality we were presented with, so this is what we had to respond to.
LCSW was reluctant to take her on as a client because she didn't have many "cutters" in her practice, but made an exception in our case.
Cinderella promised to commit herself to the therapy process and not to hurt herself.
PrinceCharming promised to get to her in for a Psych eval so she could be put on some meds to lessen her anxiety.
For two months, I dutifully took Cinderella to every appointment. She liked LCSW. She opened up to her and spoke honestly about her worries, her feelings towards her Mom and her experiences while living there, her grandparents... how she feels like a burden.
Unwanted & Unloved.
Daddy didn't want me.
Mommy couldn't handle me.
Now Grandma and Grandpa make me feel like a burden.
I don't know if it was because I was now aware that she was cutting, or because now that she admitted it she wasn't trying so hard to hide it from us, but Cinderella's scars and scabs suddenly became blatently obvious.
Red, angry lines across her forearms. Deep scabs on her knees and her thighs began appearing in greater numbers.
It was like her inner pain began to take on a life of its own and was forcefully trying to claw and scratch itself OUT from within the deep recesses of her psyche.
Her unhappiness was bubbling up to the surface. Feelings that she had been stuffing for so many years were being acknowledged, exposed and dealt with.
It overwhelmed her.
Then... I got the phone call.

Wicked, it's SIL...is Cinderella with you?

"No. But she's on her way to her therapy appointment."
My mother was having surgery that day, so I was unable to drive Cinderella to her weekly therapy appointment that week.  I asked a friend to take care of it for me.
SIL's voice is high-pitched and panicky.
Something was wrong.
Then, she tells me...

Well it's really important that I know where she is. Cinderella told a friend at school today that she wanted to kill herself. The state troopers are here looking for her.

It had been about an hour since my friend texted that he was on his way to pick Cinderella up.
An hour since I had any confirmation that this day would be like any other normal therapy day.

Cutting to the Chase

With Cinderella now living closer to home with my ex-inlaws (UN-laws, as the case may be), I'm better able to lend my support when needed.
And believe me, it's needed.
(After all these are the same people who raised Prince Charming and his siblings...and none of them escaped unscathed.)
My first priority was getting Cinderella back into therapy.
She had been seeing a lovely girl for over a year prior to her exile to Maleficent's. It helped.
But for one excuse reason or another, Cinderella's mother had not found a therapist to continue therapy while she was living with her and Diablo.
As soon as Cinderella was relocated back into our Kingdom, I broached the subject to Prince Charming with a sense of urgency.
After her recent disclosures of what she had to emotionally endure while living with Maleficent, and hearing her fears about turning our just like Mom, coupled with Prince Charming's accident, injuries AND our non-yet-final divorce... oh boy....
Prince Charming and I agreed it was needed, and after giving him ample time to take care of it himself I volunteered to make the calls.
Cinderella's prior therapist was about to go on maternity leave, so we chose option #2.
My co-worker, mentor and friend - LCSW. The same therapist that helped me navigate these past two years and reclaim my life and power.
Cinderella was comforted to know that LCSW was familiar with most of our fairytale and she was relieved to not have to re-tell her entire Tale of Woe to a stranger, and that she had many 15 year old clients.
It was instant *like*.
LCSW was cool (she texts her teen clients), older (like a mother) and most of all - alternative and holistic. She's quite in tuned with the 6th Sensory stuff that my kids all seem to be pre-disposed to.
With Prince Charming's approval I make the necessary arrangements, set up her first appointment and agree to handle the weekly transportation.
Twenty minutes in to her first appointment, LCSW emerges from her office, leaving Cinderella inside for a moment.
She audibly exhales. Rolls her eyes. And makes a pretend motion as if she wants to choke me.
Umm...
Wicked, this child needs to be hospitalized AND medicated. Do you know she's been cutting herself since 6th grade?


(to be continued...)

The Hypocrisy of it All

It's been two years.
Two years since the change in custody. Two years since Prince Charming, Maleficent and I vowed to improve the state of our co-parenting relationship.
Part of that commitment involved attending sessions with Cinderella's therapist.
A therapist that has yet to be found.
After TWO. YEARS.
It took close to a year for Cinderella's Law Guardian to receive lists from Prince Charming and Maleficent of therapists covered by our respective insurance companies.
And an equally ridiculous amount of time for her law guardian to ACT upon those lists.
Now 24 therapists have been called. The search continues because none (NONE!!!!!) of them want to take on a case where the chances of them being called into court are highly probable.
In the meantime, Cinderella's psychological and emotional well-being is suffering because no one has made it more of a priority.
It's so good to know there are respectable and caring metal health professionals out there who are committed to helping CHILDREN and willing to put aside their own SELFISHNESS.
First do no harm - MY ASS.
Watch out for numero uno, is more like it.


(I know that could have been worded better but I'm so angry I could spit.)