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War, 2

Growth. The shedding of old, musty layers to allow a new kind of light in.

I’m learning that while in a state of shock, thoughts don’t flow so well; so please, forgive me if my tone is monotonous or dreary today. I had to ask Jason last night, “I’m not crazy right?, you’ve seen him do this, right?” Yes. It’s horrible he said, it’s as if a tornado drops down in the middle of the house with no warning, he said.

It happened again last night. Around 7:44 pm, I was casually nodding off on the couch after a long day. Emma snuggled behind me and we were, sorta, watching ‘Believe’, one of our new favorite shows. Suddenly, out of nowhere, the sounds of horror struck. This time, I jumped and ran directly to my dogs to protect them. Jacob took off towards the kitchen and I followed him. The anger I had towards him at that moment was insurmountable. I asked him why?! Again, why?! “You have been given coping skills…, you KNOW the dogs are not really talking to you.” Just typing these things, I know I’m wrong for saying them, for the voices are very real to him and I know this from the bottom of my heart.

I’m still in shock even though I’ve seen it now so many times. My calloused heart hurts for my baby. He is truly suffering and the consequences hurt us all. This isn’t a spoiled teenager throwing a fit, this is a real evil that tortures him and I want to do something, anything to help him.

I remember when he was around age 11. We were in the car and he said to me, “mom, I don’t think I should jump around anymore.” I had sensed a change in him prior to this announcement but wasn’t exactly sure what it was. We were in a new town, he had made new friends and felt uncomfortable jumping around in front of them. A completely “normal” feeling birthed from an “abnormal” action. I parenthesize those words because I’m not sure either of them hold any merit when describing someone or something. I’ve decided we are all uniquely identical. The jumping soon stopped and the “head-talking” began.

While Jake was out of the house last night, I called his therapist asking for his advice and seeking comfort. He suggested I take him to Green Oaks, a psychiatric facility about an hour from here. Jake had been there before when he attempted suicide the first time so I knew exactly where it was. He also suggested I get a police escort to ensure everyone’s safety. This is a wonderful therapist who really is the only one in 5 years to actually have a positive affect on Jake and his input is valuable to me. Although, this time, it wasn’t the best option.

I was afraid to let him back in the house so I told him to get in the car, I was taking him to the police. On the way, he expressed his sorrow and tried to explain to me how he is being tortured and didn’t mean to hurt anyone. I was still in a state of shock and rage and was driving a bit erratic when I realized I needed to pull over and calm down. I knew in my heart, jail wasn’t the answer, anymore than the hospital. I was angry and afraid and not sure what to do and I think I just wanted him to realize what he was doing. He already knew and he hated himself for it. My reactions during these times are crucial because he memorizes every word and every action, then he will replay them for days to come, torturing himself. So it’s critical that I maintain a cool composure which, as you can imagine, is no easy task.

I’m very tired and I feel like I’ve spent the last 24 hours chasing a rabbit. No idea where that visual came from but I’m going with it…I’m very sleepy. We talked a lot today and I think we will make it to the bedtime hour safe and sound…I think. I’m thankful for this blog. It’s helping me, love me again.

❤️Julie

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