One Day Away

When things get tough my mind travels to unpleasant thoughts and scary experiences.  I am under the impression that Post Traumatic Stress Disorder works that way.  This last round about with the school and trying to help my son has left me feeling scared and alone.  I am one blessed person with all of the posts, emails and phone calls I have received from family, friends and colleagues to let me know that I have support.  The actual experience and the knowledge that it is me only that has to work double time to get him into a better placement is what makes me feel alone.

Having this feeling of loneliness is when I start to blog.  Words keep me company as I see the letters spewing onto the computer screen.  I am starting to make associations of my present stress with a more negative experience from my past. The thoughts that are haunting me is when I was one day away from losing my daughter to foster care.

Long story short, at the age of forty I received a diagnosis of having a Bipolar Disorder.  Up to that point my diagnosis was Clinical Depression and my life was a mess.  Wanting to flee my life after college I landed in Seattle, WA. (I am from western NY)  When I was pregnant with my daughter, I decided that I would go off  my psychiatric meds (which were the wrong meds) to protect my unborn child.  I starting slipping a few months after she was born and spiraled down to the point of being semi-catatonic.  I was literally frozen in fear and was unable to care for my beautiful baby girl.  The powers that be that led to foster care decided I was no longer a fit parent. When she was six months old I received a phone call that the next day they were picking her up to take her away.  The words that haunt me are, "You can always get her back."  The day of the phone call I called my Mom and she flew out to Seattle the next day.  The Child Protective Agency never knocked on my door.

I need to fast forward six years.  I sat in a court of law for six months fighting for custody of my son.  My abusive partner decided that he was going to use the defense that I was mentally ill.  I sat in disbelief that my mental health could be used against me.  The unbelievable part to me was that at that time I was mentally healthy.  I knew what I needed to do and say and he didn't win.  That is another story for a different time.

I was thirty six when my son was born so the Bipolar diagnosis hadn't happened yet and my life was still a mess.  I registered for classes at a local psychiatric rehabilitation center and I started to learn how to answer my nagging question, "Who am I?"  It was there that I met so many Moms that lost custody of their children to abusive partners because of their own mental health diagnosis.  I started researching for my book and one day I sat at my computer and read that seventy to eighty percent of parents with a psychiatric disability lose custody of their children.  I sat there with the knowledge that if I had lost Mina that day I would have never gotten her back.

I could post countless photos of my daughter growing up to show what I would of missed but I won't.  I also have my memories to hold on tight to my heart.  I guess what I am trying to say is that once I gained the knowledge that I was so close to losing my baby girl, everyday that she was in my care was a gift.  I cried at every single one of her concerts, plays, sports and all the other activities that she enjoyed.  I am not sure if I cried for myself or for all of those that didn't get to experience the joy of raising a child because of an unfair system.

My Mina is now in college and she is having a great time.  She is an artist and already some of her sketches are in the college archives.  She texts or calls me almost everyday, not because she misses me, but because she wants to talk with me.  We share a special bond and for that I am thankful.  She has been with me through my mental health challenges, Domestic Violence, Breast Cancer, Autism and finally my acceptance of who I am.  I have been single for the past five years and I hope I have taught her that she doesn't need to be in a relationship to be happy.  I believe that I have finally taught her that a person needs to be happy with oneself before a healthy relationship can begin.

My friends refer to Mina as an old soul.  She is wise beyond her years.  I asked her once if she could wave a magic wand and be an only child would she change her life.  Her response was, "No Mom, I would not know what I know."  My Mina is a great example of what our siblings with Autism can become.

My Mina is a shining star.

This is a photo that Sam took of the two of us.

I need to share one more. :)

I love you honey.  Momma Bear is proud of you.

Definition of Mental

1. a: of, relating to, or being intellectual as contrasted with overt physical activity.
2. a: of, relating to, or affected by a psychiatric disorder <mental patient>.
b: mentally disordered, mad, crazy.

I choose being an intellectual as my definition of being mental.

*The photo that I use for my background was taken by Sam.