June 27, 2004

Things are doing pretty well here.

Last week David took the GED exam on Tuesday and Wednesday. He was finished early both days, and thinks he do okay. We have to wait until August 4 to find out if he passed or not.

Overall, things are going well. David is sleeping a chunk of the mornings away, his medication seems to be very sedating, but about noon or son he is usually up and is in a relative good frame of mind. Tuesday, David applied for a job andhad an interview at PizzaHut! This is one of the two places he had applied and been turned down at before his hospitalization. Up to this point, he paranoia has always brought those rejections to the front as proof, that the world is against him, no one wants tog ive him a job, so whay should he try. I think his being willing to apply is a HUGE step forward. He has 3 friends working there, it would be great if he could get on... We'll have to wait and see.

Yesterday was a bit rougher than lately. David has been doing very well, and I am certain this is a temporary glitch. I am not sure why he is having such a rough time today, other than he went to a b-day party for a friend last night. He has spent time with friends pretty regularly the past couple week,s but I wonder if the party was too many kids, too much stimulation???? I picked him up at 10, so it is not like he was there late.

This morning, he was up at a more normal time, about 9:45am. vs 11 or later. Gene asked David to take out trash and check the animals food and water. David responded very disrespectfully and negatively, and Gene ended up doing the chore. And told him that since he did not seem able to show respect and give to the family, he would have to find his own ride this evening to an activity he wants to go to.

Enter the paranoia, you are holding a grudge, you never see my point, you are against me, why should I try to do anything, you hate me, you don't care, you never did....tirade.

I was able to get him to take an extra 1/2 tab of Thorazine and he attended Dalton's baseball awards thing, very informal and short. When we got home he went and applied for a job at a video place a couple friends told him were hiring at last eve's party.
Good stuff!

I told him he might want to ask his father if he could do something to "earn" a ride this evening, unfortunately, this did not work well. We asked him if he would do dishes and vacuum. He went back into the Why should I do anything , you never do anything for me mode.... More of the same paranoid delusional thinking patterns again...

Anyway, Gene took Dalton to the children's museum and I stayed home with David. he was in tears, all you want to do is leave me, stuff.... I finally managed to get him to take his aft dose of thorazine, and fed him. he called a friend to try to get a ride.

This is pretty mild compared to what he was doing just 2 mos ago, but I hate this illness. You cannot reason with a person with SZ when they are locked into a paranoid, delusional pattern of thinking. They cannot see that they are not rational, and there is absolutely nothing you can do to make them see...

Today is going well. Gene went to church early for a class, so the boys and I followed at normal time. David was able to get up, ahowered and go, though he was dragging a bit. Dalton stayed in his new 5th grade class, alone! for the first time since promotions Sunday about a month ago! His shadow volunteer has been on vacation, so this is a big plus that I finally managed to talk him into staying. Last week I got him in the door, we stayed for the music, then he insisted he go to service with me.

Both David and Dalton feel asleep at home after church. Gene and I took a nap for a while as well. At present, David has just had a couple friends come over and is having a good time.

Thank God we seem to have found a good medication combination for him, at last.

To anyone reading, I hope that your family is doing well, and if not, please know there is hope.

There is always a light, no matter how dim, if only we seek to find it.
God bless,

Buy my book at Lulu!

I have been working on beginning a book dealing with parenting, symptoms of, treatments for, and the impact mental illness causes for our children and on our families...

Barely born�
Bravely loved�
Borrowed babe�

Searing firestorms have declared a home
within the confines of her living room
Blazing screams echo pain of grieving
suffering denied, masked by a facade of ferocity

Struggling for survival, his tortured soul gives strength
of forceful fierceness, veiling frailty
Emotion is the enemy, exposure would be weak,
vulnerability is buried deep within a grave of terror

Trauma begets chaos, familiar, therefore welcomed,
as a lesser threat than trusting confidence
Intimacy leads to devastation, it is self-destruction,
a loss of identity, whereby his soul would vanish and expire

Incapable of comprehending love, its very definition is a theory
proven false by experience of living
All he has ever known is sorrows� ache, trust is alien,
incomprehensible, the thought of hope cannot occur

A single proffered kiss ignites his fear, as struggling for breath,
he will fight until his death evading peace
So she binds his feral flesh into a blanket of safe harbor,
swathing his frightened dread until he sleeps

Meeting fear with calm, his raging with a prayer,
his injured heart is bound by her belief
Withdrawing from the fray, to give up and retreat,
cannot result from her souls� empathy,
as long as she is capable
to breathe�


His gaze travels through the room, repeatedly, seemingly intent upon a thought.
Each miniscule movement encapsulates attention. Each isolated sound arrests his ear.
The expression on each face must be deciphered, potential threat determined
and destroyed.

Incarcerated spirit, mind ensnared, he�s unable to attend to the mundane.
Chaos , recurring, chronically the lone reality he can abide.
His toys lay scattered on the floor, jumbled array analogous to life.
Distracted, his awareness roves precisely, enfolding self within disordered world�
He cannot focus.

Concentration is alien, a thief of stolen childhood.
Other souls see his rootless eyes and make judgments
of lazing insecurity, obtusely unaware, calling him unwise.
Ascribing fault with lack of understanding, they cannot comprehend this inability.
With discipline, they say, and structure, we can fix him
and make him see the world they way we see�

Difference cannot be tolerated. Disallowed, variety is scorned.
They say that children are resilient, they can bounce.
Censorious, underrating needs to mourn.

Shuffled randomly from home to home, from heart to heart, from bed to bed,
surrendering to alien embraces, of kindly arms lacking foundation or support,
his spirit often falters with anxiety.
Vigilant, continually guarding, certain that he will lose again.

Every time he has begun to trust a schedule, a pattern, a surety of hope...
Each time he has allowed a window into his inner self
all loving and emotive fluency has been snatched away�

No wonder that he doesn�t stop to play, while toys lay neglected through the room.
Timidly he tried to simulate the portrait they desired.
Yet, uncertain, he has never learned the knack...

Of trusting anyone;
Of knowing what the world will bring;
Of reliance upon other souls for safety;
Of confidence of his capability.

Imitation of normalcy has been the best that he could offer.
They see his outer shell and misconstrue hesitation for noncompliance.

His gaze travels through the room, repeatedly, seemingly intent upon a thought.
Each miniscule movement encapsulates attention. Each isolated sound arrests his ear.
The expression on each face must be deciphered, potential threat determined
and destroyed.

Incarcerated in his mind, unable to attend, he trusts no one.
He remains within his halted state, ever watching, ever anxious, ever aware,
of all the things that others have, knowing he�s unworthy to receive.

Pompous Prince �

Omnipotence within his mind,
he controls his world
No one else could do it right,
so he will take the power
By his command the earth revolves,
the sun stays in the heav�ns
If you agree, he�ll show his love,
object, you�ll see his wrath

�No� is inconceivable,
unheard, it is ignored
Tiny tyrant charges toll,
constricted peace is bound
around the throats of parents� hope,
strangling their dreams
Gravely distressed they try to cope,
yet, drown beneath the streams

Fiery runneled rivulets,
coursing wounded ache
Concerned they wince in agony,
relationships at stake
Small grandiose Napoleon,
dictating from his throne
Commanding them to genuflect,
abdicating home

Sovereign compels obedience,
declaring self supreme
Oblivious and unaware,
he is hoarding pain
One day his Godhead will collapse,
and then he�ll understand
When life unseen at last connects
on barren desert sands

Contradiction �

�I�m not doing that!�
�You can�t make me!�
�Get out of my face!�

Rude answers to mother�s query, soft inquiry begetting storms.
Incapable of submission, he is unable to comply.

�I said, I don�t want any!�
�Leave me alone!�
�Prove it!�

Desperate cries arrive with screaming, rigid stance grown disdainful.
Frozen mien of severity, inflexible, he cannot move.

His foot stomps against the floor, and kicks the wall, leaving shoeprints.
He punches furniture as he walks, launching items at hand, and lashes out.

Thought stops cold, hesitantly caught, shocked into denial by fear.
Knee jerk reaction to battle, he draws the line in frigid stone.

When asked, Do you love me? He responds with �NO!�
When he is told she loves him, he says, �No you don�t!�

When he asks, and the world does not deliver upon command,
His mind rebels, fireworks explode, and eyes smolder with banked passion.

Self defense, safeguarding security, demands his attention.
Unable to discern a benefit, he draws back to fight.

Yet, by way of passage through time, he understands and shows regret.
He knows right from wrong�
and sorrow.
Apologies conveyed, he tries�
to be good.


Sweet bundle of emotion runs circles through my mind
Distracted, seems to hesitate, as treasures catch his eye

His brain lights up like magic, desire turns to want
And leaps straight into having without a second thought
No matter who has ownership, when seen his mind says �Mine!�
Without intention to offend, he�s petrified in time
He cannot stop to think before action�s taken place
The shut-off valve works in reverse, he quickly moves in haste

His mouth will spout in overtime with hurtful selfish sounds
Sometimes shocking his sweet self as sentences astound
He�ll chase a toy into the street and never think to look
Unlike most people in this world, his mind�s an open book
The path from sight to action shifts instantly to gear
There�re no reluctant thoughts or qualms ringing through his ears

Unintentional offender, blithely races past
He truly cannot comprehend the oft forgotten task
Of deferring satisfaction until he�s ascertained
That he isn�t crossing boundaries, with unintended strain
On ties of admiration he hopes to see returned
Yet scattered reason falters and his actions burn...

Remorseful and repentant, he tries to make things right
I�m constantly forgiving him for another slight


He sits across the room,
rooted, certain of the truth
contained within the album of his psyche.
Cold as winter ice, his eyes accuse
stalwart defenders of perfidious treachery.
Opinion forged, unalterable,
he stands unto death upon conviction.
Unwavering, inconsolable, suffering in agony
at perceived deceitful infidelity.
Hope and peace lay trampled
on gravel paths of shattered glass
littering causeways forged in kilns of apprehension.
Despite evidence of proven loyalty,
regardless of professions of devotion,
he remains absolute in resolute conclusion.

He is alone.

Love and faith are naught but reliquary residue,
vestiges of insanity, remnants of na�ve purity,
which experience has cast aside;
cadaverous and moldy,
disintegrated by reality
created twisted and malformed within his mind.
While rescuers relentlessly hammer prisons� door,
he fortifies his walls with forceful strength,
unwilling and unable to comprehend the nature of intent.
Each perception he espies,
is painted with a brush of disbelief,
veracity and truth interpreted by languages of expectation.
He sees what he believes,
believing what is seen,
and cannot amend his certainty.


Sitting in a chair, backed into a corner
Idly gazing off into the distance
Scarcely seems alive, barely drawing breath
His hooded eyes stare vacant through the gloom
Where his watcher waits

Laughter used to ring within these walls of pain
Footsteps fell like rain on golden paths of hope
Children played in peace, building future dreamscapes
Heartbeats embraced by graceful sympathy
But love has vanished

Remembered follies linger, haunting souls with whispers
Singing hymns of joy, now twisted, altered dirges
Softer feelings trampled, fallen into sadness
Fade away, abandoned, suspended by a mind
A vanquished life, adjourned

Dreams once pervaded the atmosphere with faith
Ambitions� goal, simply sought sweet solace
Anticipated wishes� echoes linger yet
Silent, leaden, still, reminders of past fancies

Poignant character resides in limbo
Uncertain of existence, loath to study
Insignificant, lacking motivation
Worthless movement but shameful useless waste
Consciousness disbanded

Little Boy Lost...

Clouded pictures of forgotten hope disguise his wounds.
A lonely gift from early days, the only tie left over, as he was left behind.
Translucent wall, transformed to gossamer partition.
Alluring boundary, powerful, averting bonding with dishonest souls.

Fictitious memories hide hurtful reality.
Drawn close around, blanketing, false warmth imitates security and isolates.
Hoarding an illusion of heaven in his mother�s arms,
Recalling counterfeit affection, he has built deceptive visions in his heart.

Forlorn and solitary, this filmy haze, blinding him from pain,
buries his benumbed soul in agony,
Existing in delusion, convinced that only he can offer safety.
He has scaled the mountain, a lonely soul, searching for a remedy to heal his grief.

Yearning for companionship, not knowing what he seeks,
Sightless eyes refuse to comprehend a sanctuary, our arms of comfort,
reaching out in empathy.
Sadly unaware of others aching in despair at his dilemma, he cannot understand compassion,
he was not taught.

Abandoned, his broken heart has hardened, to withered desolation obscuring future dreams.
Hazy barricade seems firmly planted, embedded deep inside the vacant rooms within.
Caged, he is imprisoned, incapable of opening a door.

Desperately, he tries to form an understanding, battering his head into miasmas of lost belief.
Unseeing, he fails to glimpse the open skies offering escape.
Where we have thrown a rope anchored in our hearts, Buttressed by our faith,
hoping he will find the stair,

While we stand at the base of his summit,
praying he can find the strength to leap�

Hiding Place�

He sits staring through me, as though I don�t exist, pain emanating from his splintered soul
From his sweetly formed face, despairing eyes reflect, fearful cowering alarm in his heart
Rejecting the world and all who could hurt again, he�s built a wall from sore isolation
Shaping a room, a private padded shelter, projecting a deceptive vacancy
Huddled scared, he has scaled the mountainous terrain, and taken refuge, in rocks of despair

I cannot reach him
He is alone

Terrified, I search the skies for answered pleas, struggling through tears flooding my courage
Feeling his agony, his loneliness, and fear, I flinch from what my baby has endured
If only I could go back and reverse the time, to take his place, his part, his pain,

I would

Instead, I chase his tortured soul, off�ring my love. Yearning to wrap him in my arms at night
I cry to the heavens to part the clouds of gloom, which have covered his hope with misery
Stumbling on rocks, and the boulders strewn in his path,
My knees are torn as I fall here in prayer

I cannot falter,
I will not give up my faith

I�ll pound on the doors to his heart again, until my strength has faded, and my breathing stops
I will climb through the mist, repeatedly.
My soul knows his hiding place, and though he may run,
I have faith I will reach him and hold him

One day

And his eyes will see my heart and feel my anguish, and my baby will no longer be alone

Light will release him
He will be free

Artless Angel�

When he was small he�d sit and smile
a gleeful grin of devilry
His eyes would shine with glowing grace
of heaven sent hilarity
Imagination flowed from depths
engaging sight with mystery
Secreted from a life mundane,
he shows our souls the fallacy
Of strict adherence to the norm
while shunning different memory
His gentle love is shared with all
who come to join his family

Now, not so small, but, even yet,
his smile remains a miracle
Encouraging our fallen dreams
he waters hope with his own soul
At ten years old, still playing games
you�d think to see a two year old
His eyes contain maturity,
still innocent, he broke the mold
Reminding us to reminisce
on youthful days we have let go
Return to living life today
with childish eyes on heaven�s goal

-copyright 2004-

Posted by TwoSons at June 27, 2004 09:16 PM | TrackBack


Post a comment

Please enter this code to enable your comment -
Remember Me?