Izzy

I don't often talk about the negative stuff, even when it's a big part of my life. I try to focus on the positive, and even when I can't, I try to involve as few people as possible. To me, negativity is malignant and so so tough to get rid of. I've been bogged down in it before, and I never want to let that happen again or be the catalyst of it happening to people I love. I recognize I've let people down though by not giving them the opportunity to be there for me or help me get through some tough stuff.

So here it is. Robert and I are currently going through some tough stuff. 

In late February Izzy had a meltdown where she became violent. I didn't say anything about it because my blog is a positive space, and though Izzy has a history of violent behavior, Robert and I were hopeful that the extra steps we took after the incident would put an end to the violent behavior. In late April, Izzy had another violent meltdown and Robert and I agreed that she needed more help than we could give. Currently Izzy is in a residential facility and it's been a really long, complicated process that is far from over.

I was locked in this soul-crushing denial that she could quickly get the help she needed, the tools to handle her anger, and come home. But it's not a quick process. And in the last week there has been a kind of acceptance of the situation that feels like someone is squeezing the life out of my heart but has also given me the ability to start living again. And part of living again is getting to where I am ok talking about the situation.

Robert and I love Izzy. We want the best for her. Living with us is not the best thing for her right now. I went into this experience completely unskilled in dealing with kids who have endured unspeakable trauma and also kids with special needs, and eleven months later I still feel the same way. Our mental health care system is deeply flawed. To put my trust in the hands of individuals who turned Izzy away for months until her behavior became too violent to ignore, is killing me. But Robert and I aren't equipped to deal with violence, and it feels a little like we're trapped in a maze with no way out and no way to help Izzy on our own. 

Surprisingly (and I say this with cautious hopefulness) Izzy is getting the help she needs. She's also finally getting testing for multiple things, which Rusty A.K.A. James (her father) and Robert and I could never get for her (too old but not an adult, wait lists galore). We talk to her almost every day, and she's certainly regressed in age and maturity level but sounds happy. She's also got a team of people a mile long, an even bigger team than the one she had prior to residential living. They also haven't changed her medication and aren't doing that thing where they medicate someone so much the person is in a complete fog. It hurts to say this but she's almost blissfully unaware of her situation and is thriving where she's at. 

Her violent behavior has continued. She's still a master manipulator. And there's the possibility that whatever makes her different will keep her stuck processing the world through the eyes of a child. But she's getting help.

Robert and I have been putting one foot in front of the other, taking it one day at a time, staying involved with everyone on her team on almost a daily basis, and as much as it feels like it's not enough, there are moments when I can tell myself that it is. 

That is all for now. I will keep everyone updated on Izzy.