"What do you want to do?"
I keep asking her this question with the precursor, "You're an adult. It's your life, your choices. So what do you want to do?" while also providing her with the instructions of which toolbox she needs to access today for her next appointment that her boyfriend is willing to drive her to. I'm not needed, "it doesn't matter" (if I go with her or not) as I hear the social worker's voice in my head reminding me, "how much longer are you going to live the life of two adults?"
Good day yesterday - too soon to judge which category today falls in good / bad. Day's not over until it's over. Walking on Eggshells, I Hate You Don't Leave Me... it will be "a series of good days and bad days. This is it, Julie," they remind me. This. Is. It.
Thankful for the Loving What Is book or The Work as I find myself crying in the car again because a friend tried to text a "relatable" scenario. Nothing is relatable. Nothing about this. I search and I search for a support group that's happening right now - I search NAMI, ASA, MeetUp. There are none but a message to "please subscribe so we can create one in your area." More gas. More time in the car. More effort. More energy and I'm crying in the car - again - as I realize through my "what would Byron Katie do?" filter that I need to begin to ask myself the question, "What do YOU want to do, Julie?" I don't "love what is." I am lost. I am alone. I am afraid for her future AND mine.
Maybe it's time to go back to therapy? Maybe I need to start a support group? I KNOW I'm not the only one - that's impossible. Why do I feel that if I choose what I WANT that means that I'm going to lose her? No therapist can unravel these thoughts. No book is going to provide an "aha"-like answer. No prayer will be answered. No solution is foolproof. Why does it feel that if I, once and for all, choose me first that I'll be planning a funeral? I have questions. I need answers. I have answers. I know the patterns but I'm the only one who's got the nearly 21 years in the trenches of this journey.
And today I realized interacting with others actually makes me feel more isolated. No first world problem is relatable to suicide watch and trying to heal mental health concerns of an adult. Maybe it's not fear I feel but resignation. Maybe her dad's right. Maybe his mom is right. Maybe I need to just get on with my life with little to no concern about hers. I blogged about the statistics and leading causes of death yesterday; maybe I need to resign that she's just part of that statistic. Or I can continue to most isolated, defeating, heartbreaking journey of my life because I know not what else to do.
She may have had the first good day in months yesterday. Today may go down as a good day, too. And maybe we get a string of good days - the last string strung together was 8 good days and then we ended up in the hospital for five days. Maybe I need to start keeping track of MY good days and bad days? Today, yesterday, the day before were bad days. If I cannot maintain my strength, as I exhaust every possible resource and referral I'm handed by her mental health professionals, how the hell do I expect her to remain strong?
There is no point to this blog today. There is no call to action. No program to promote. Today I am just stream of conciousness-ing. Today I may inspire no one. Today that's not my job. Today I need support, guidance, a fucking support group that does not exist. Today I'm tired. Today I'm allowed to cry.