Guns are not the problem....

    I want to preface this with something I hope everyone can agree upon:  Sane, rational, mentally sound and healthy people do not walk into a school and kill children and adults.  They just don't.  For whatever reason some people are broken.  Some by a genetic flaw, some by war, some by a traumatic event that wounds them too much, possibly too early.  For whatever reason some people do things that are unthinkable to the rest of us.  The great divide.  Perhaps they, like my ex-husband, see and hear things so real to them they have no idea that they are lost in a world that doesn't really exist except to them.  Perhaps they are angry and  have used too many drugs to try to deal with it.  Perhaps they just need love.  I have no idea, truly, because I don't have a mental illness so severe that I would ever do such a thing.  Most of us don't.  I've heard a lot about evil.  I know from my experience with mental illness which is limited to schizoaffected disorder as well as my own issues with anxiety (thank goodness for yoga...) that mental illness is never rational.  In the midst of it trying to reason someone out of their illness, when it is so severe they don't know they are sick, is next to impossible.

     I sat down with my kids to tell them what happened in Connecticut, the news has been off in my house since this happened and I knew I needed to tell them.  I didn't want them to hear it from friends at school.  Alorah already knew.  Her teacher told their 5th grade class about it as it was happening.  I have mixed feelings about that but I know enough about her teacher to trust that she did what she genuinely thought was right.  I can't fault her and I can't change it.  I would have liked to have been the one to discuss it with them and explain it in the ways I hope for them to grasp it.  We can't live in fear. Bad things happen every day and the best thing we can all do is love hard, forgive fast, and cherish every day we get with the people we love.  We are all living on borrowed time so we may as well enjoy it.  I used to be absolutely riddled with anxiety over losing one of my children.  It was so bad with Faith that I took a picture of her every single day and never washed the last outfit she wore "just in case" so it would have her smell. I never talked about it when I was going through it.  I knew it wasn't rational but I was convinced something bad would happen.  I watched a program on TLC about SIDS when she was maybe a week old and it really messed with me.  I was also really young, just 21, and the responsibility of keeping this beautiful, perfect, amazing child alive was a lot.  I realized later, after having some really bad PPD with Vance and in counseling years after that, how irrational it all was.  I didn't leave her for 10 months.  I guess what I want to convey is that anyone can be thrown "off."  Through therapy I've let go of most of my anxieties.  After I lost Reese and Levi got sick I realized how much of an illusion control is.  I refuse to live in fear.  It's not worth it.  If someone walks into one of my classes at school and starts shooting at least I died doing something I love.  No one is promised tomorrow.

     Guns are not the problem.  It is the mind behind the trigger that is the problem.  As long as we keep cutting funding and help for people with severe mental illness these tragedies will continue.  We live in a society that puts the full brunt of mental illness on the families.  The families are burned OUT and we need help.  You can't predict what someone with schizophrenia will do, you just can't.  When Levi was first admitted to the hospital he barely fit the criteria despite being severely under weight (he had no food in his apartment except a 20 gallon bin of movie theater popcorn), delusional, and clearly not in his right mind.  He was turned away at one hospital because he wasn't sick "enough."  He was in the hospital for a week, looked really promising after they released him, and he was back in for almost a month a couple weeks later because he got so much worse.  His kidneys almost shut down from lack of water and walking miles upon miles without water.  I'm not giving these details to exploit his mental illness, I am trying to give a picture of what mental illness can look like.  It changes people at the very core of who they are.  It took me years to grasp that the person I married was really gone.  It's still incredibly sad to me.  He is off meds right now, he stopped taking them about a year ago and I knew quite quickly that he was not medicated but I chose to wait and see (because I have no legal binds to make him do anything now that we are divorced) what would happen.  I continued the weekly dinners with the kids so they could see him. By June he was back in full psychosis.  I let him see Vance for his birthday and discontinued visitation after that, per our divorce decree I have full physical and legal custody of them.  It was one of the hardest choices I've had to make.  I just could not have the kids watch him decline, I knew what was coming, I want to protect them.  He showed up at my house earlier this week around 6pm which he knows is not allowed (boundaries are very, very hard for him) and the kids took seeing him really hard.  Alorah especially, it broke her heart.  It's one thing for me to tell them that their daddy's brain is broken and it plays tricks on them...which is how I explain his illness to them...it's a whole other thing to see him in the state he is in.  There should be a way to get people help before they are a danger to themselves or others.  Unfortunately it takes a crime or tragedy to make that happen.  It's a huge societal burden.  I would never advocate all mentally ill people be locked up but they should be monitored, watched, helped.  If someone doesn't know they are sick why are they allowed to hurt people before they get the medications and therapy they so desperately need?  They ARE the victims, too.  They don't ask to be the way they are.  It's all so unfair.  20 children should not have to be killed before America wakes up and starts to talk about mental illness.  It's time for the taboo and hushed silence to be shifted.  There has to be an answer somewhere between lobotomy and allowing these people to snap.  I am a huge supporter of the 2nd amendment.  I have no issues with people arming themselves.  I do have issues with the mentally ill having access to guns.  If someone is so angry, broken, and capable of such madness they shouldn't be able to purchase a gun. It makes no sense.

     

Probably one of the hardest pieces I've ever written...

There is one subject over the past six years that I've danced around when I write. I've always had a feeling that exposing all of it, or even parts of it, would somehow exploit Levi or the kids, or maybe even myself. I'm a lot of things, I refuse to be a victim. Maybe it's time to start to put some of it out there. I know one thing, without question, I am not the only one to walk this treacherous road. I will always, in one way or another, be dealing with the consequences of my choices along this path. One day I will have to answer to my children for the paths I've taken, and those I have not. We all have the scars. Mental illness is not a one person disease. It affects the entire family. Everyone. When it all started a few weeks after we lost Reese I had no clue. I stayed quiet for a long time. It was cyclical. He'd be the man I married one day, and my worst enemy the next. The impracticability of it all came close to driving me mad. When do you do when your spouse tells you that demons hiss at them? When they are shaking and riddled with panic, paranoia, and fear. In Levi's case I was the object of his delusions. He became convinced I had cheated on him and Vance wasn't his. That belief was rock solid. Two DNA tests couldn't prove it was false. My tears and please couldn't shake it. Nothing could. If only I knew then what I know now. There is so much to the illness, it would be impossible to summarize it all. My choices after 3 years of accusations, psychiatrists, psychologists, medications, counseling, and sheer determination came down to staying and living with it or leaving and hoping it would get better. So, I left. It was better, we were great at co-parenting. His illness seemed to stabilize. At that point he was diagnosed with Delusional Disorder type Jealous, also known as Othello sydrome.  If you've ever heard of magical thinking, I had it.  He genuinely seemed like his old self.  We tried to get back together.  After six months I moved back in, and the hell started again.  This time a little bit worse.  My last straw was when he asked for an open marriage on the eve of our 10th anniversary.  That hurt more than the previous 4 years of attacks on my character, integrity, honor, and loyalty.  If you know me then you know I hold all of those very near and dear to my heart.  I don't tell that part to make Levi look bad.  He is, without question, the biggest victim in all of this.  I asked for a divorce and we spent our anniversary dinner laying out how I was going to get through back surgery and how he was going to move out.  It was a really dark time in my life.  That surgery kicked my booty and he had no desire to be there for me in any way.  He moved out that December (the surgery was September 29th).  Things were good for about a month.  He stopped working events at his job that he had worked for the previous 6 years, he had time of work without explanation.  At that point I took away visitation because I didn't know what was going on.  By February he was in complete psychosis.  If you want to know what psychosis can look like I urge you to watch A Beautiful Mind with Russel Crowe, it is by far the most accurate screen representation I have ever seen.  His beliefs were concrete.  There was no getting through.  That May we finally got him some help (since we were legally separated not divorced I had some rights to force doctors to listen to me about how sick he was).  He stopped taking his medication and got worse later ending up in the hospital trying to keep him out of kidney failure. He had stopped eating or drinking and was walking miles upon miles every day.  There is so much more in between, so many details, but this covers the big "stuff."  When he was well enough the kids got to see him every weekend for dinner (by now his job had let him go but he had unemployment coming in), we were divorced, and things were okay.  This spring he stopped taking his meds.  I knew but watched and waited to see if he would remain somewhat stable.  He did, for awhile.  When he lost his job he lost his really (REALLY) good insurance and state insurance refused to pay for his injections and he only had a medical guardian for 6 months and that had run out before he even stopped his oral meds.  In June, on Father's Day, he was back in complete and total psychosis.  I let him see Vance for his birthday dinner but made it clear he could not see them again until he was back on meds which hasn't happened thus far.  The kids know that their Dad's brain is sick and plays tricks on him.  I saw a family psychologist to ask how and what to tell them.  They do okay, but it's hard.  It was written into our final decree that I have full legal/physical custody if he is off meds.  It sucks to make that choice. I hate it.  I hate it for the kids and I hate it for him but I have to follow my gut and protect them.  Would the Levi I married ever harm the kids or myself?  Not in a million years.  Mental illness, especially as severe as what he has (schizoaffective disorder, which is a combination of schizophrenia and bipolar disorder) is not predictable.  It's never, ever rational.  Yet I still carry the guilt for making the hard choices.  I can only hope that in 10 years my children understand my reasons.  I hope that in 10 years he is on meds and functional.  He is living with someone who helps him a great deal, which is good.  I'm glad for that.  He does speak to some family members.  So there it is.  Written out.  At least a skeleton outline of the past 6 1/2 years.  The system for mental illness is very, very, very broken.  My hands are tied, I have had the police do well-person checks.  I have no legal right to demand anything of him.  All I can do is hope that at some point he checks himself in...is sick "enough" to get to stay, and gets back on a path to a somewhat normal life that calms the voices in his head.  Please read this with an open mind, and feel free to ask questions.  I don't think there is ever a clear cut answer on how to handle someone in psychosis.  I think everyone has to decide for themselves how much they can handle, how much they can allow.  Boundaries don't exist.  It's incredibly hard.  As much compassion as I have for him, I feel the need to protect our children from his illness more.

We're all a little bit broken

It is what it is, as my dad says (a LOT)

It's been a very, very, very long time since I've felt any desire to open my heart up to anyone or anything much less this blog.  This past year has been filled with so....much.  I'm not sure where to begin so I won't.  I think this picture speaks a million words.  I finally, after 6 years, spread Reese's ashes.  Right there, where I'm sitting, at the edge of Kiwanis Meadow where it meets the cliff.  It seemed appropriate and some day the majority of my ashes better end up there, too.  When I opened her urn for the first time, ever, my mind was blown.  Exactly a month before I lost Reese my Gramps, George Inness Hartley, passed away. The certificate inside her urn, tucked into a little Ziploc bag, had the name of the man that did her cremation.  His name?  George.  I lost it.  It was one of those universe things where everything collides and, well, that can be pretty damn intense.  It was.  I've let go of a lot this year.  My anger.  My need for control, okay it's a work in progress but I am working on it!  My insecurities and vulnerabilities have come a very, very long way.  I've done more yoga, less gossiping, more walking, less eating my feelings.  I've lost weight, the number doesn't matter, I've gained self-esteem.  I've fed my soul with rich relationships, long talks, hikes, music...so much music...being kinder, gentler, more compassionate, less judgmental (note the keyword there....less, I'm not perfect).  I've had to make really hard decisions when it comes to my kids that I would not wish on anyone, ever.  I've packed 1700 sqft house by myself, had the help of wonderful (amazing, truly beautiful, fantastic, shall I go on?) friends moving into a 900 sqft house with 2 less bedrooms, one less bathroom, but an infinite amount of love and support and peace. That chapter closed.  The kids are thriving, for the most part.  Faith is in middle school, absolutely thriving with her new-found friends and freedom from the mean girls of yesteryear (thank goodness!!!).  Alorah is in 5th grade, still battling her asthma (she just got through a pretty nasty attack) but so much better than she was two years ago.  She loves her school and her friends.  Vance is..Vance.  That kid, bless him, was sent to teach me patience.  It's served me well, especially this summer.  He can be the sweetest child on the planet, and he can be absolutely impossible.  I hope for an easy adolescence with him.  I deserve it!
This year I have made amends with old friends, with myself, with my choices, with the consequences.  I've forgiven and let go because the weight was crushing my soul and I was too exhausted to fight it anymore, and besides sometimes enough time goes by you really ought to let stuff go, none of us is infallible.  I've purged stuff, loads and loads of stuff.  Physical stuff, emotional stuff, metaphorical stuff. Some of what used to be of major importance to me has drifted away.  I've let my children enjoy the freedom, respect, and responsibility they've earned and taken it away when they've needed to be reigned in.  I'm, painfully, slowly learning to follow through with Vance.  It's hard.  It has to be done.  Discipline has never been an area of strength for me.  It's just as hard on me to break him a little at a time because he is at that age where he can see and feel how he affects others.  He has had some breakthroughs.  It's two steps forward, six steps back, but it's movement nonetheless.  We're not stagnant any longer, and that is progress.
I love (and at this juncture hate..it's finals and a&p I lecture is a fight to the death.  There's still a slight chance I'll pull an A.  As it stands I have an 83%.  I have made amazing friends this term.  I was chosen by one of them to be the Vice President of the Psychology Club that starts next term, more to come on that.  Leadership is a big deal when it comes to getting into a program and right now I have my eye on 3.  You'll have to wait and see which road I go down, I don't even know yet.  Right now it's the road to survival until my a&p lecture final is over next Monday (and if I ace it I grovel at his feet for an A because I'll be sooooooo close).  I have found a true and honest love of learning really complex, dense, amazing, hard material that I didn't think I had in me.  I've worked harder this term than I've worked in school in my life.  I've never been more exhausted mentally in my life.  I raise my kids solo.  Just because we live close to family don't think for a second I have built-in help with them, cleaning, laundry, or anything else besides a beer or a family dinner now and then.  The weight of that on its own can be really hard sometimes.  I fail, I cry, I ask their forgiveness, I get up, and we move on.  There's no other option.  I wouldn't have it any other way, truly, for the circumstances we were faced with.  It could be so much worse.  I've started behavioral therapy, to get some coping tools, it's helping.  I need more yoga and as soon as my final is over on Monday that is what I will give myself for two straight weeks.  I have 20 classes of hot yoga from groupon.  I need to get on the mat.  That song, the one with the lyrics "in the pain, there is healing", is true.  The pain brings you somewhere, I think you just need to be able to follow the doors it opens, leave the ones it shuts alone, and be happy that today, at this moment, life and all the pain that goes with it-have brought you here.

Divorced

I think this is most definitely blog-worthy.

I am, officially, divorced.

I have a whole array of emotions running through me.

The next chapter begins.

shutdown

My friend, Jenn, asked why I haven't blogged lately.  It's hard to explain.  Things are so complex and hard right now that I don't know how to even begin to make sense of it all.  I no longer have health insurance.  After this month I may not get child support. At all.  It will accrue but that doesn't matter one bit if he can't pay it.  Levi has made very little attempt at finding a new job.  I am hanging on by a thread with school.  Alorah split the top of her foot open a couple weeks ago.  The dog got in another fight with a cat a few days before that happened.  I stopped being able to make mortgage payments as of September.  I am packing my house.  Boxing up summer clothing and linens, camping gear, and anything else we do not use right this moment so that I can store it.  Soon I will go looking for a storage unit.  I have had three night's out this year.  I am exhausted.  I am angry.  I am sad.  I am anxiety ridden.  I feel guilty that my Dad is having to rush to finish his kitchen so that we can move into the front, when the time comes. I feel guilty that I can't save the house.  I feel pulled in five million directions and each time I settle on one task I feel complete and utter stress that the other things that NEED to be done are not getting done so I freeze and nothing gets done.  It's really hard stuff.  I knew this would happen, I've been preparing for it for months.  We closed on this house November 1st, 2005.  I remember like yesterday how exciting it was.  The house was empty and we signed the papers in the early afternoon, ordered pizza, and Levi chased the kids around playing "squishy squashy"-the empty house was filled with laughter and squeals of joy.  5 months later I found out I was pregnant with Reese, then she died, then Levi had his first psychotic break.  By the time we had been here for a year everything had gone to shit.  Losing the house in many ways is full-circle.  Who knows.  I am working on finding some positives and keeping perspective.  It is what it is.
If you want to know the hell I went through with Levi watch Dr. Phil today.  Replace the lie-detector test with TWO dna tests-which were somehow screwed with and manufactured.  All the accusations.  All the emotional abuse.  Been there.  Over and over.
“When we share from our hearts and help someone else learn from our experiences, or ask for support for ourselves, we cultivate our true beauty.” – Michelle Phillips

New Bed!

Since we are downsizing, who knows when, I was hoping I'd get a smaller bed at some point.  A king in the duplex is not a good mix (it leaves very little room and I'll be giving the kids the bigger room as it is).  So when I was at my friend Jenn's house a couple weeks ago I asked if she had any furniture she was looking to sell b/c they downsized to be closer to fam (from Rio Rancho to Alb).  She said they had this bed and when she talked to her husband they said they'd sell the whole thing (mattress, box spring, and frame) for $100.  Wahooooo!  This poor mama swooped up that deal!  I bought new bedding after Levi and I separated the first time (that bedding) as a new karma kind of deal.  I couldn't afford a new bed though.  So now I have a new bed that doesn't sink, my back will be MUCH happier with support, and good karma!  Win/Win!  Plus, I will babysit Noah and Gracie for free any time as a thank-you!  My king bedding fits, so I don't even have to buy new sheets, yay!  I'm a happy mama.  I have not had a bed with foot board and a head board since 1999!  Sweeeeeeeeeet!  It's so pretty.  ahhhh.
Oh, and this is the bed I am getting the kids so they can share a room:

In a darker stain, Vance will have the bottom and I'll hang a sheet for privacy, the girls will each have a top part.  I figure I will have this bed for years to come.  I will probably save it and use it for my grandbabies.  Pretty cool bed.  I am selling Faith's loft bed, 2 dressers, my dresser and night stand, a huge computer desk, and a few other things to be able to buy it, also because I am not storing furniture, the only furniture I will store is Alorah's bed (because she loves it and I got an amazing deal on it) and possibly my childhood bedroom set, though most likely I will sell it and buy taller, wider dressers and pieces that store more.  The closets are SO small in the duplex that when I stand in them I can put my hands against each side.  3 kids.  One closet.  Insert creativity!  I will be storing off-season clothing and bedding, and other things that I cannot replace.  Everything else is getting sold, and I'm okay with that!  Oh, I will also have a rotation for the kids toys and books between the duplex and storage.  I have a whole system in mind.  We are going to make this work!!!!

Also, I will be filing for divorce this week.