Thursday, December 8, 2011
Spoke with sober daughter for about 20 minutes on the phone yesterday after her appointment for one millionth med adjustment. When she is herself again I may tell her that we have had this exact same conversation one million times, she'll say "yeah Ma, I know." Side note: It drives me crazy that this kid calls me Ma, but she always has, the other two call me Mother. Anyway, our conversation is a dance in which I lead and she follows until I can sit down. Her mania was bad two weeks ago, she actually spent 20 hours picking one blade of St Augustine grass at a time in her back yard, until she had completely cleared a 12x4 foot clearing. She used a salad fork to till it perfectly even and ready for spring planting. That was just one of the 24 hour periods of the 2 week manic spree. Most of her possessions will end up painted in varying shades of purple. When she was seven years old, she colored all her dolls purple and dubbed them the "tribe of the good." Anyway, when someone is "her kind" of depressed, you don't try to lift them up by reminding them of the good things in their life, or guilting them into staying alive so the family won't hurt and fall apart, no, you give clear, loving, compassionate instructions. Or I should say, this is what "I" do and this is what works for "us." Take a shower, use the white towel, rinse the shampoo out, stretch, eat....etc. Sometimes one must do this while the "husband" wonders why he does not have any clean socks, and maybe the husbands mother in law offers to show the collage educated husband how to turn on a washing machine while holding a rusted machete to his throat while reminding him of the nice cleared plot of earth in the backyard. Anyway, yesterday my daughter called me Obie One Knobe twice, which is a good sign.
My in laws are coming in from Michigan tomorrow for the weekend. They don't really know my children and they have never experienced this kind of "stuff", so I will have to put on my game face for 3 days...great.