“I hate you, I wish you would die, I never loved you, Bitch, Fat pig” When I started having children I never imagined that I would hear those words from my child. I realized that I focus on Ferdinand more and his program more than Ali Baba. I realized , tonight , when she hurled those words and a thousand more hurtful ones at me while clenching and unclenching her fists and telling me how much pleasure socking me in my face would give her that I have given up on her. The months of her being gone as a runaway, then them bringing her home and her running the first time I took a shower, the teen pregnancy, the stealing from me and other family to the point she, and so by proxy we, aren’t welcome to visit but 1 person we know, raising her child because her focus is getting her ex back and doing what she wants- all for what? To be told I am nothing, no one? She won’t take her meds, refuses to talk to the therapist, and won’t go to school… What do I do? They won’t 51/50 her, she cannot function on her own so I can’t emancipate her, her Dad won’t take he because she steals from him and his wife so I badger, cajole, beg, fuss, scream, coerce, you name it to try to get her to take her meds, to show her kid some attention more often than just days her Dad will be here to no end.

I would love to be able to sit down and type funny stories of my kids antics and all the memorable moments we share but the reality, well my reality is that my days and nights are filled with either his meltdown or hers. If he isn’t screaming profanity at me she is, if I am not at a Dr.’s for him, I am for her. If there is a therapist in the house it is for one of them. There are 7 people in this house but the issues of these 2 run this place. The other kids can’t have company because you never know when one of them will flip the hell out. I can’t leave and go to work because they will tear the house apart or worse each other if I am not here to be the buffer.

Mental illness is destroying my family and I am completely at a loss on how to fix it. The therapist and psychiatrist’s all tell me I am doing an amazing job but how is that possible when everything is in complete chaos? What the hell is amazing about that? Is it amazing to them that I haven’t pulled all my hair out or I still seem sane? Because I can still find a reason to laugh each day? That isn’t amazing, that is freaking coping. I wish I could yell from the rooftops that the parents and caretakers of these kids suffer right along with them, that we take the brunt of their anger and have to absorb it and keep going, that we have to be strong enough, not just for them but for our children that don’t have these issues. I wish people realized the physical impact it can have, the reoccurring sickness, fatigue and compromised immune system that can occur when you go days with no sleep or food because you have to be on high alert 24/7. I wish there was more that I could do for my kids so they wouldn’t feel the way they do and I wouldn’t feel as if I am failing them. I wish I knew what to do for them. I wish I knew what to do for me.

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