What it’s like

So, I guess I am going to give you all a little glimpse of what it’s like to live with a person with a severe mental disorder, and how little help is available for families like us. Tonight my daughter asked me if she could go for a walk and I said no (it was 7:30pm and we do not live in the best neighborhood, plus she is back in our house because she got kicked out of the youth shelter she has been staying at since the last time she ran away from home, so no walks for her). We had zero discussion about it, she just said she was going anyway. I told her as she was walking out the door that I would be calling the cops, to which she responded with “have fun with that”. I was on the phone with the 911 operator before she got to the end of the driveway (one of these days I will get someone that either recognizes me, or I’ll recognize them). Then I called the MRT hotline (Mobile Response Team, they handle any mental health crisis that needs attention, you can even call them if you don’t need to call the police, though tonight I did need to bring Pasco’s finest into the situation) and waited for the sheriff’s officers to arrive (I know for a fact that I’ve had a few repeat officers show up here when she runs away). The first few times I went through this situation I was a nervous wreck, waiting for them to find her and bring her home, but I’ve been desensitized to the whole ordeal with how frequently it’s occurred. Now I just sit and wait. When the officers got here I took them into her room because they have to check to see if she actually is missing (her room was spotless yesterday, but today it’s completely trashed, I took photos to document it), then answered all their questions and gave them the most recent picture I have of her. Finally we got to the point where I was asked for my drivers license, which I forgot to get out of my room before they got here, so I had to take out my keys to unlock my bedroom door and get my wallet, which is always embarrassing, though it will be less so the next time I have to do it since I survived the experience once. You see, we all have keyed locks on our doors in this house … well, all except Jen’s door and the main bathroom. I walk around like a jailer, keys rattling since I keep them hooked to m belt loop. Anyway, when she was finally located, she was returned. She asked if she could go back to the friend’s house where she was found and stay there, which of course I said no. That led to her getting mouthy with me and then one of the officers. She finally went inside and started slamming doors. This isn’t the first time I have lived through this scenario, and sadly it won’t be the last. The woman I spoke to with MRT was wonderful, but felt bad because, like everyone else I’ve dealt with, had nothing helpful that they could do except be someone to listen to my crisis and express sympathy for our issues. I know that way back when we had institutions they were horrible places, but there are people in our society that need to be institutionalized, my daughter is one of them. She is a danger to herself and to the rest of my family and one day she will be a danger to others, as well. The state of Florida has zero institutions for children and very few beds available for kids that need inpatient treatment for longer than 78 hours. Those few beds that are considered “long term” are only available for up to 60 days. 60 days is nothing for my daughter. 60 days will not even begin to scratch the surface of her mental illness. This is a crisis, a real crisis. Everyone keeps preaching that we need stricter gun laws, but maybe we would need less of them if we were better equipped to treat these children with mental illness. When are we going to wake up and realize that children with issues like my daughter will one day grow up and be free to make their own decisions on hat they do. It’s thoughts of what she will do when I have even less control than I do now that keep me up at night. As it is I live in a constant state of worry for not only my family, but for others, that she will snap and hurt someone. Anyway, it was less than 24 hours since she came home and I had to call the police. Here’s to hoping tomorrow will be a quiet day.