This morning, with Teale, has been rough. Christmas coming, the realization we are not going to see cousins, maybe she’s not feeling well, sick of COVID isolation, or maybe she didn’t sleep well... The wondering is endless. As Mark often says, “That’s the fun thing about Teale, we will probably never know.”
I picked a pair of snowman socks this morning for her to wear. That’s what started it. I laid them out, and said, “Aren’t these cute?” Sometimes it feels like Teale just needs to be mad. I often wonder if it’s some sort of release she needs? After my comment about how cute the socks were, she snapped my head off, and continued to go downhill, even though I immediately said she could have different socks. For some reason, this morning, it hit me how stupid it all is, how frustrating and how I’m just tired. I’m tired of walking on egg shells around her. Not many know the constant stress. The constant waffling in moods. How we can set her off with no understanding why. Was is it really the socks, no... I understand it’s her bipolar, but, like I said, I’m tired. For 22 years we’ve been living like this. We watch our words carefully, our tone is as even as possible at all times, but especially when she’s going downhill. Our getting mad just makes things worse. She will go into a full-fledged rage and that can last an hour, resulting in her biting, hitting, kicking & breaking things... So we stay calm. We try to work through it. We have several strategies; walking away, talking to her, not talking to her, staying close by. Guessing how, and what will help her most in that moment is the game. I told Mark I’m sick of it, she’s 22 years old! Does anyone really understand how much we tiptoe around? Even in good times, it’s a constant struggle to make sure we’re staying even, to help her stay even.
I just wanted to yell at her, I just wanted to look at her in the face and say ~ “Is this really over a pair of socks?” but I knew that wouldn’t help. So I complain to my husband, who does “get it.” I say I’m just exhausted, 22 years of constantly trying . She is still like a toddler who blows for no apparent reason. I talk out my feelings out loud. It’s no wonder we’re both unhealthy, the stress hormones going through us, at all times, must be intense.
Mark took over, he worked to get her hair brushed & her different socks and shoes on. He was patient, as she continued to make things difficult. Several times he said, “Tell me when you are ready.” Teale would scream “I’m ready,” but then do the same behavior that prompted “Tell me when you are ready.” It was a game, over and over again, she would be throwing her head around, as he attempted to brush it. She was also trying to hit him, and she threw her shoe, but he persevered.
The bright side of this is, we are a good team. Sometimes I have the patience to work through her behaviors, sometimes he does. Most of the time, we both do. But, we are human & we have faults. We’ve had times of our own meltdowns. Times we’ve lost it. This morning, I knew I didn’t have patience, so I handed her over.
I’ve had a lot of long days in Covid, a lot of days of tiptoeing around her behaviors, and trying to stay in an even mood, myself. Maybe I just didn’t sleep well last night, or maybe the stress of Christmas, is getting to me too? Some days you just don’t have it in you. But that is the difference between my life with a special needs person & my life with my typical children. I can’t just tell Teale I’m sick of it and she’ll have to take care of herself today. I will have to pull myself together and persevere. At 22 a typical person’s life is moving forward. This is where we are different. We will be her caregivers for the rest of our lives or her life... which ever comes first.
