#settofail

As things get better, it gets easier and easier to let my guard down.  I have a knife in the kitchen that actually cuts things.  There’s razors in the shower.  A pair of scissors is in the drawer in the kitchen now - with free access to all.  I have a bottle of Motrin that I don’t carry in my purse anymore, and the medication hasn’t been under lock and key.

Last week, after a difficult therapy session, my daughter asked to hang out with a friend.  She texted me repeatedly, called a few times, and basically begged to meet up with someone (other than myself) that she could talk to.  I agreed, based on the fact that it be someone I approve of.  She said she tried everyone, but could only reach the one person I rather her not hang out with.  Reluctantly, I agreed to her spending 2 hours at a public location close by, and then I would pick her up.  They were to go no where else, just stay at the place we agreed, and then I would pick them up.

Long story short, things didn’t go as planned, and I found out.  We got in the car to head home, and it was very uncomfortable.  My daughter was upset and curled up, mostly I think, because I was not happy.  The crazy thing was that I wasn’t terribly upset with her - I was upset at myself.

I knew she was having a hard time.  I knew the person she chose to spend time with definitely wasn’t my first choice, and yet I said yes.  I could have said no, headed home, and tried to use all the skills I’ve learned to talk through things.........but I didn’t.  I basically set her up for failure. 

“I’m sorry ok, what do you expect?  I’m sorry!”

“I’m not mad at you sweetie.”

“I said I’m sorry.  I had a hard day.  I didn’t mean to do anything wrong.  I lied.  Ok?  Happy?  I lied - I’m sorry”

“I’m not mad at you.  I’m not even mad that you lied.  I put you in a situation that was impossible for you to succeed in, and I can’t be mad at you for that.  I know you don’t mean to lie, and I know you don’t mean to do the wrong thing.  I don’t think you intend to break my trust, but I have learned that when put in certain situations, you are not strong enough and will make the wrong choice.  I’m sorry for allowing that to happen.”

The car was silent for awhile.  I couldn’t be mad at her, and I think she was a little confused with me.  As soon as we got home, she went in her room and called “The Cottage” help line at YCUSP.  She was on the phone for hours.  When she came upstairs, her face was all swollen from crying, and I think she pretty much cried the rest of the evening until she went to bed.

A day later, when I was taking laundry to her room, I found 2 blades on her bed.  Quickly I went through the house, checking for anything that could have been disassembled, but found nothing.  I looked for the usual tell tale signs like gauze, hydrogen peroxide, polysporin, but didn’t find anything.  I called YCUSP and told them what happened.

“I haven’t decided if I’m going to say anything or not.  I don’t know if I should confront her.  She usually tells me if she self harms and didn’t say anything at all.”

“Well, we will need to know what you decide, so we know how to deal with the information on our end.”

“Ok, I will let you know.”

Tomorrow we have a counselling session at YCUSP.  I finally decided to bring the topic up with her.  Yes, they were her blades (obviously), but they were old.  Yes, she had woken up during the night and self harmed.  No, she didn’t tell me because she was rushed in the morning, and then the next day felt weird because more time had passed.  Yes, she did tell the nurse at YCUSP and they know.

Now my mind gets going.  “They know?  Why didn’t they call me?  Why didn’t they say anything?  Aren’t they supposed to call the parent and confirm when self harm happens? Here we go again.”

The meds have all been put away.  We’ve agreed together it’s the wise choice.  The one knife can stay in the kitchen.  Time with friends will be more monitored and limited, and if I have a funny feeling - I’ll be paying attention to it and doing the hard thing by saying no and sticking to my guns.