Big Changes: How to go with the flow
We are sisters
We dread change
We strive for a “normal” life
We wish for things to stay consistent
We learn to go with the flow
We are sisters
It’s been two months since my last blog post, and a lot has changed.
After sharing the recent struggles with my mentally ill adult child’s (MIAC) severe paranoia manifesting as an eating disorder, I traveled back to Missouri in early June to see if I could convince him to start eating again.
My son looked so bad, almost skeletal. It was shocking and challenged my former assertion that this situation was beyond my control or influence. He’s my child; I will always do what I can to help him.
So I went back and forth with the Residential Care Facility (RCF) director. They insisted he eat gluten and dairy. My son insisted it was giving him diarrhea and causing him to vomit. I begged him to eat those foods anyway, against my better judgement.
My MIAC has a food avoidance disorder because of his paranoia. This cycle of severe weight loss and getting him to eat again has been an ongoing issue ever since he became ill.
The RCF doctors wanted to send him to an eating disorder facility.
“If things didn’t change, I was sure he would die. I knew I could do better.”
How is that going to help someone with a paranoid schizophrenia diagnosis?!
I knew it wouldn’t work and advocated for my son.
Two weeks later, I headed back to Arkansas with my fingers crossed and a promise from the RCF director that they’ll give my son a month to gain back some weight.
Two days after THAT, I get a call from the RCF director saying I need to find a new place for him to stay. What the hell?! Clearly, it’s easier for them to discharge my son to a different facility than actually help him through this, but fine. I asked for two weeks to figure things out.
My head was spinning, but I had one stand out revelation.
The fact is, my son’s health was terribly poor due to the inferior foods he had been fed for the last four years, not to mention all the skipped meals. If things didn’t change, I was sure he would die.
I knew I could do better.
What do you do when your MIAC’s situation changes with no warning?
I made a list of all possible scenarios.
I talked with friends and family to get their opinions.
I checked into the available mental health services in Arkansas.
I outlined specific options.
I meditated on which option would be best for both of us.
I researched transferring guardianship, applying for Medicaid, and which pharmacies carried his specific medications.
I spent time relaxing and thinking about monarch butterflies.
I weighed all the information.
I made a decision that I believed would be best for both of us. (This is incredibly important to keep in mind so you don’t end up sacrificing your life for theirs.)
Decision made, I drove back to Missouri, packed up my son and his belongings into my car, and moved him down to Arkansas to live with me.
I admit to feeling apprehensive — this is not the first time my MIAC has lived with me — but he’s been here for three weeks and it’s going well so far. I can already see what a difference this has made.
He’s spending time in nature and has been reunited with our pets. Plus, we eat very clean; fresh fruits, vegetables, dairy free, gluten free, no processed foods, and home-cooked meals.
My son looks good. He’s gained a bit of weight, his face has filled out, and he’s been able to discontinue one medication and lower another from three times daily to one dose once a week.
In addition, his thinking is clearer, the voices are quieter, and he’s taking a shower and brushing his teeth regularly. Bonus: he’s started to help with a few small chores without being asked.
Every day is different. Some days all he does is sleep, other days his voices are louder.
We take each day as it comes and go with the flow.
Just for today:
I will choose to live in the moment.
I will learn to weigh all options.
I will make decisions that are good for both of us.
I will focus on my own health and well-being.