As I mentioned in my last post, things are dramatic and rocky at home right now. Mic, my son, was hospitalized for his illness(es) for a week. Yesterday, we had a meeting with him and a therapist, at the hospital, to let him know that he would be moving, today, to residential treatment. He was sad. He cried and made it clear that he wanted to come home and that he would be safe at home if he had another chance. it was all very heart-wrenching. And I think that he knew, on some level, residential treatment was the place for him for now.
Today, we made the move from hospital to residential. Without naming names or facilities, I was very unimpressed with the professionalism and compassion shown by the hospital, and (so far) very impressed with the environment at the residential home. Mic has been placed with a good peer group for him and I think it will be a positive experience for all of us. Mic was in residential treatment for 15 months previously. Those 15 months ended in January during my ECT treatments. I don't remember much at all about that time period. I don't remember what it was like to not have Mic in the house. I don't even remember him coming home. My memory still sucks from ECT (and depression and medications), but I feel much more in touch with the family and what is going on now than I have for several years. Maybe I'll remember more of this upcoming period of time than I did the last. Melissa and I have sort of gotten past the emotional part of placing Mic in residential. We both know that its the right thing to do for all of us. But its a damned hard thing to do to someone you love. I kept trying to imagine what it must feel like to be Mic. To be knowing that I wouldn't be living at home for a while. How that walk down the hall, after telling us by, and walking into a completely new environment in which he knew no one, must have felt. I can think back to when I was his age...awkward, unsure of myself, shy...and how hard it would have been for me. Mic's perspective is different than mine would have been at that age, but I'm sure there was nothing easy about today for Mic. I love him and I feel very sad for him. He got dealt a shitty hand in life, and he and we continue to learn to make the best of it and do the best things for him and our family.
I saw my psychiatrist this week. She didn't seem to think much of the few sudden (and sometimes critical) plummets in my mood that I've had since I last saw her (6 weeks ago.) We did increase my Risperdal dosage to maximize its antidepressant qualities. Antidepressants haven't been very successful for me in general. Maybe the atypical anti psychotics will be. At any rate, through all of the Mic happenings and Melissa's emotional roller coaster and trying to keep Maggie on an even keel, my mood has held pretty fast to stable.
I've been thinking, much more routinely than in the past, about living today and enjoying what I'm doing today, instead of dwelling in the past or looking down the road and wanting to know NOW what that looks like. Things seem to be stabilizing a little on several fronts. I have to enjoy that fact and live in the moment. When my mood is holding, that's a lot easier to do. On those few days when I dive into the hole, no amount of positive thinking, it seems, is able to bring me o9ut of the funk.
This afternoon was beautiful outside. I dusted off the old golf clubs and, for the first time in several years, went and hit a bucket of balls at the driving range. I still can't hit a golf ball straight, but I had fun trying. Maybe after a couple more buckets, I'll be ready to embarrass myself in a round of golf with someone I know. I've been invited to play by several people...once I get my swing back (not that it was much of a swing back when I did play once a week or so.) Something to work toward...
Until later...living it as it comes.
