I had something else I wanted to say

but once again, the brain took over and hijacked
the morning. The dreams nightmared in my skull
until I woke up hearing a knocking at the door.
WOOOODPECKERS! PSYCHOTIC OCD BIRDS DRILLING FOR GRUBS
They knock with the intensity of the police
during a drug raid,(my neighbors were dealers,
so this I know with certainty.) I wish I didn’t.

Yes, yes, I know my ears get more
oversensitive when I’m sleepy.
There’s less traffic noise to
mask normal obsessive avian sounds.

My child and the silent sentinel went home without
incident. My Eldest Surly (E.S.) child went home to his
grandmother’s then the next day he visited with me after
school. It wasn’t a visit. He came to pick up his bike.
We fed him. I made him clean up a mess that he made.
I gave him an evolution of Zombies tea canister
and a bigger drawstring bag to carry on his back.
Impatient and surly he didn’t want to stay,
he wanted what was his so he could do whatever he wanted.

I have a friend that I text in the mornings and
I keep asking her if she can see the sucker
on my forehead?

Last night E.S. went for a bike ride.
It must have been a long bike ride
because no one heard from him until
this morning at 7:56am. Drugs or delusions.
He is off his meds. He said he hasn’t been sleeping.

THEN TAKE YOUR MEDICINE! My silent brain screamed.
I asked him, “What do you do when you can’t sleep?
“Take my medicine,” says the young prince.
“You push people in ways that are not helpful,”
understatement of the year.
I want to help this child.
He makes it soo hard.
This is a test to prove my love for him.
I don’t like tests with trick questions.

ES stopped taking his Seraquel.
He says it is just to help him sleep.
Seraquel is a mood stabilizer.
He needs to take this so he can
function on a more even keel.

I can not make the child understand that
medications are made for some purposes then
found to work for other conditions. I wish
he would read the information sheet that
comes with each of his prescriptions.
He might learn something that his dumb mom
already told him. One day I will be less
stupid in his eyes. I’m not going to hold my breath.

What I have passed along to my children is my depression,
my slight build, my ADHD, hopefully my artistic
and musical intelligence and my height.

During my, “you must be bi-polar, try this med phase.”
My psychiatrist gave Seraquel to me.
‘This will stabilize your moods,’ he said.
It is also an anti-psychotic, it has funny side effects.
HAAAAAAA-HAAAAAAA-HAAAAAAA-HAAAAAAA!

I became a drooling zombie with emotional lability.
Emotional lability means “a condition of excessive
emotional reactions and frequent mood changes.”

That is how Children’s Services got involved in my
life with Girly. I freaked out in front of a very young
not well trained reporting case worker. She knew I had MDD,
ADHD and anxiety/panic attacks. She obviously did not have
enough experience to understand what it looked like
until she saw me that fateful day. I was in rare form,
but in order to be in compliance with social security and
disability, I had to follow my doctor’s instructions
even when I know they were wrong or even stupid.
I even told him I didn’t want to but I would try.

My first psychiatrist said if the mood stabilizers
didn’t work I wasn’t bi-polar I or II. After two mood
stabilizers and a different psychiatrist
I have come to the conclusion that my
body chemistry is special and requires study.
“Use this, then tell me what it was
like after a month,” doesn’t really work for me.

After two days of each of the mood stabilizers
I knew something was wrong. I was told that I
didn’t let them work long enough. If I had let them work longer
Girly would have been taken from me. Children’s Services
was eager to take my daughter, so I could get a break from
her. I don’t know of a mom who really did not need a break
from my gift child.

She is a bright light in the darkness,
the surprise in the middle of my hailstorm.
They said I should not rely on my child to be
happy or stable. I don’t, but it sure doesn’t hurt
to have a beauty looking up at you waiting
for you to smile and say I love you.

I think many psychiatrists/therapists think that their patients are
lying to them about the craziness that surrounds them.
My life is so crazy, I must be exaggerating about my children,
my divorce being two years of hell, my house being the one
the little old lady who lived in a shoe moved out of, my ex
being a chaos demon and losing most of my friends overnight.

I am naive that I believe that truth is the most important
thing I have beside the love for my children. Without that
everything else would be a lie, then where would I be, how could I
have real friends if I lied about everything? I am not friends
with my psychiatrist, but he seems to have gotten the drift
that I am not borderline, I am not bi-polar. Oh yes, I am
unstable, creative, unrelenting, talented and most definitely
beautiful when I can get myself in the sun and dirt where I belong,
barefoot, barehanded and teaching a child about plants.
That is my bliss.

Featured image: There is a woodpecker in that tree.