Round Two

There it is again. An intense feeling in the center of my body that aches. It is a familiar feeling–grief. Grief for the six months of wellness my son was living and suddenly is gone. We are back in the battle, round two of a fight that I am just now learning has no predetermined number of rounds. Again, with feelings of helplessness and sadness, I watch the situation unfold. I question how I did not see this coming. It surprised me. We must have let our guard down as we applied the new skills learned from round one.

At first, we were guarded with our hope. What if he goes back to old ways? What if he cannot apply the skills? Can we even return to a “normal” parent-child relationship? But as he got better with his skills, we believed it to be a real change. We remained ever cautious of his med routine: reminding him to take his pills, checking he has taken them, giving a silent thanks to God that the meds work and control mood swings, and a silent thank you because we had our boy back.

And now, here we are at the start of round two. This time I notice the comfort of knowing what to do when it starts, like muscle memory. Instinctually I know to keep my voice calm, show no emotion, don’t react as I take him home from school to calm down. I know the littlest of things can trigger a full out emotional rage because he is off balance. From round one, I learned this is not the time to teach a lesson or demand he does chores as a punishment. It is not about being right at this moment; but about keeping things calm. I encourage him to verbalize what it is like in his head right now.

I am relieved when he is calm and slowly allows me into his thoughts. Through talking to me, he is doing better and analyzes what happened and why it did. Yet my feelings intensify. I ache for him and am so very disappointed for him. I question my role in his change. Did I cause this? Did I fail to notice his emotions building? Did I forget my skills too? Beating myself up over these questions leaves me wallowing - without energy, depressed. Is this our new normal, living between chaotic episodes?

But then I realize this doesn’t have to be a repeat of round one. I get a do-over. Last time I discovered I did not like my role of being the one who meets with the professionals. After learning from them, I would then felt the pressure to remember plans discussed and to convince my husband. Now, I ask my husband to join us at the appointment. I am already more useful. Upon the news of round two, I think I am the victim: Why me again? Why us? Why now when he is doing so well in a new environment? Now I see I can and must change my perspective. I have the previously learned lessons to take advantage of. Round two does not have to defeat me; I can be whom my son needs from the beginning.

Round one, we blamed the school for what happened to our son, round two, we learn it occurs even when schools change. With no one to blame, I am forced to think harder–how did this come out of nowhere? And then I realize it is a compilation of small instances that I gave little significance to on their own, but after the fact, I am aware they are linked. I see how it wasn’t unpredictable, just unrecognizable. And with that knowledge, I am confident it will be recognizable earlier for round three.

This is our new normal. We celebrate in the calm before the storm, but we also prepare for the next storm. Part of that preparation is the understanding that this is not my battle. I cannot assume ownership of this to lessen his burden- because it isn’t mine. This is his lifelong struggle. There is not the onetime fix that I thought we had bought and paid for with the intense treatment months ago. I don’t want a pity party, and I don’t want to be a victim, although it is quite tempting and understandable if I did. This is not something I can fix. I am not the failure here. What I get to do is to be his mom. I get to show him how much I love him even as he is at this low spot. I get to allow the school to deliver the consequences for his actions and not dogpile more at home. This is his second chance, and he is blowing it. This is hard for him, maybe too hard. But I will be there with understanding even if I have no more options to offer.