So after a good day yesterday, last night turned bad. I was up until nearly 7am because my son was just in a bad place. Not bad enough for 911 and 72 hour hold but still, not good. I slept maybe 5 hours total starting after the sun came up. Let me assure you that this is one of the hardest, most painful things I have ever had to do...watch my baby boy suffer. I am not a weak woman and I have had some extremely horrible periods in my life, periods that people would cringe to hear about but this, this is the most painful thing I have ever had to go through.
No one would ever equate me with being helpless but here I am, helpless as fuck. I am also not prone to tears and yet just watching my son suffer makes me cry. It makes me cry thinking about it or even talking about it. I feel like I am watching him drown but I can't quite reach him and the more I try, the more my legs become mired in quicksand. I am being pulled under as I am trying to save him.
Tonight I needed to breathe. My eldest daughter got off work early so I was able to head to my favorite couple's house and watch season 7 of Shameless with them. Well, we started it. It was awesome being able to just sit and watch something without any demands being made of me. Granted, I did have to field texts and calls regarding my eldest son but it was liberating not being in the middle of miasma. I thought everything was okay. He needed some spending money, no big deal.
I was even able to tell my friends more about what was going on, like face-to-face to people I knew loved me and were just as concerned with my family as I was. It felt good. He had slept a little this morning but when he woke up I knew it was not going to be a good day. When I had finally escaped the house, things were quiet. I thought I was in the clear.
I was so fucking wrong. As soon as I got in the car (1am give or take) there was a text from my eldest daughter telling me that my son was not doing well and she didn't know what to do. So I texted my husband to call him and then raced home. He is now on the back porch talking to his dad and I am here, typing this up. I don't know what to do. I am exhausted but I doubt sleep will come. I am too anxious and worried about him. I also have my two youngest kids in my bed. They are more clingy now; though to be fair I think it's more a result of their dad visiting and leaving again than their brother slowly losing his mind. Then again, it could be a combination of both.
Every day I pray to whatever is out there to help him. To take his torment away. To help me find the strength to bear this burden. I honestly do not think anyone is listening.