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Tuesday, September 13, 2016

The Angry Dandelion, Part 2 (January 2009)

When her biological father left
she dove head first
into depression.

The counselor provided by
my insurance said
"well, let's just handle
her problems as they come up"
not realizing there were
five screaming meltdowns
just on the car ride over.
(This therapist was in
over her head.)

Her next psychologist
affirmed that she had
depression and anxiety,
and she was referred to a
psychiatrist who
prescribed Prozac
which she took dutifully
for three years
along with cognitive therapy.

Her darkness grew
kudzu-like
into every part of her world.

Then came the snipe hunt
of diagnoses:
oppositional defiance disorder
attention deficit hyperactive disorder
obsessive compulsive disorder
borderline personality disorder…
they had the best of intentions
but they were throwing darts.

The sadness hovered unabated.

Her mood became darker,
more foul, violent
with flamethrower anger
and suicidal threats.

Her room became a cell
and she threw everything
she could
at the walls and doors
trying to escape.

Something hijacked her
and she cried long and hard
into the night, pleading
with me to make it all stop.

Her general practitioner
wanted to rule out
bipolar disorder
so she spent
the summer of 2008
enduring hours of
neuropsychological exams.

The verdict:
dyspraxia
and frontal lobe syndrome.

Yet, on she rages
with a new psychiatrist
who disagrees with
neuropsych assessment
but still cannot offer
an alternate diagnosis.

The new doctor prescribes
new medicine
and tells her to try and
“get along with
the people you live with.”

I try to hide my disappointment
as I feel we’re all stuck in this:
me, her mother and
this sad, suffering Angry Dandelion.

Unexpectedly,
her mood brightens when she
asks about
her upcoming birthday party.

She’ll be 12
next Friday.

6 comments:

  1. That's why I have chosen not to start down this path. Doctors only make it worse.

    I am so sorry you and she are suffering through this ... and will be for the rest of your lives. It's tragic and no way to live.

    Is she on her own now? Or does she still live with you?

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Still with us, she's 19 now. Still suffering, but making small positive steps. Thanks, Mosk

      Delete
  2. Oh, this must break your hearts; it does mine just reading it. Poor girl, to suffer so...I will be praying for her, and you.

    ReplyDelete
  3. Anonymous3:23 PM

    Mosk, I've read this three times now. I keep coming back to it. She is my daughter's age. Emma would hold her hand. I tear up every time I read it. She is yours, she is beautiful.

    ReplyDelete
  4. my girl would have been 19 this November. I wonder, sometimes, what color her days would have been. ~

    ReplyDelete