My Time with Alex - Chapter 5

Time?  It exists no more.  Every second of every minute of every hour of every day is absorbed by Alex.  I have nothing left for anyone else in my life, including me.  Emotionally and physically I’m spent.  And that’s just how Alex likes it, the world revolving around her.

Family therapy, Alex’s therapy, my therapy, psychiatrists, psychologists, teen group meetings, family support meetings - it is at least two hours on the road each trip.  Our town of fifteen-hundred people doesn’t have a big use for psychiatrists.  The money, the loss of time, the prescriptions - that’s not even close to the worst part.  It’s being stuck in the car with Alex, listening to her berate me.  Because you know, it is all my fault.  If I weren’t so old, or didn’t expect so much from her, or stood up for her more often, she wouldn’t be like this.  I hear it mile after mile as I drive to try to get her help.  I guess I’m the pitiful one, hoping that sometime she’ll slip and tell me something I’ve done right. 

Trazodone, Seroquil, Cymbalta, Abilify, Ambien, Luvox, Paxil, Haldol - most people just know these names from commercials.  I wish my knowledge of prescription drugs wasn’t as vast as it is.  But I’ve had no choice. No doors can be left closed.  One of them or a mixture of them might be what helps Alex become the person I want her to be.  How I wish I could say ‘the person she wants to be’, but she doesn’t seem to care. 

After eight months of therapy and a half a dozen different specialists, we were getting nowhere.  The only progression I observed was that Alex would at least talk to them this time around.  It wasn’t because she wanted help; it was a game.  As long as she was messing with their minds, they couldn’t get in hers.  One visit she’d be agreeable and charming, the next she’d break her cell phone in anger.  She’d tell them we beat her, and then wink and say she was kidding.  She toyed with the kids in the waiting room, telling them horrid tales of what she’d gone through in therapy, and laugh at their frightened expression.  Some psychologists dropped us, others would only see Alex if we were the first appointment of the day and left out the back. 

“I’ve never seen a case like hers.”  We’ve heard this repeatedly.  My child is not a ‘case’; she is a person.  The difficulty in diagnosing a teenager is that in fact they are teenagers.  It is nearly impossible to differentiate what is normal (there is not normal) teenage hormonal behavior and what is a symptom of mental illness.

I have been told that Alex has Borderline Personality Disorder, Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder, Depression, Attachment Disorder, and many things I can’t remember and didn’t understand.  We made treatment plan after treatment plan.  It seems the only one that tries them and compromises is me.  Therefore, Alex views me as giving in, making her even stronger.

School, a place she used to never cause much trouble, turned nighmarish.  Every week I would receive, at the minimum, one phone call regarding her behavior.  Her grades were always good.  Alex is intelligent.  Her mouth was the problem.  She began to lash out at students and teachers.  I gave my permission for them to punish her however they saw fit.  Nothing worked.  In-school suspension simply gave her more individualized attention and new students to prey upon.  Our school still paddles with parental consent, but all Alex’s psychologists strongly discouraged this.  I often wondered if one good old peach tree whooping wouldn’t have turned her around. 

I think about that day in kindergarten when Alex innocently said ‘bitch’, not knowing it was a bad word.  Was it a sign.  ‘Bitch’ is a favorite word of hers now.  It is reserved for no one special.  I’ve been called a bitch by her so many times that it doesn’t sting anymore.  She’s called her teachers bitches in their classes to their faces.  Every classmate that attempts to cross her or receives more attention is graced with the title.  She even got in a scuffle at a FCA (Fellowship of Christian Athletes) meeting, that resulted in not only an outburst of name-calling, but her slapping a girl, too.  Nowhere was sacred to Alex.  She now was an equal opportunity tyrant.

My husband and Alex's relationship deteriorated rapidly.  She was the poster child for all things he deplored.  Alex was a liar even when there was no benefit to be had, thought only of herself, was lazy, and felt the world owed her everything.  Respect was not in her vocabulary.  His frustration over not being able to control what was happening to the family created a barrier.  It seemed every incident was just one more brick in the wall that separated him from Alex, and from me. 

The arguments over Alex increased.  He believed we should be firmer; I thought compassion was the answer.  My unhappiness weighed on his heart, and his reaction was to alienate himself.  Losing my husband was devastating me. He didn’t want to upset me with disagreements, but he didn’t understand that the silence was worse.  And for whatever reason, I couldn’t tell him. 

My other children began to slip away.  Oh, they still came for holidays and such, but the phone calls were fewer and fewer.  I missed moments in my grandchildren’s lives that can never be made up.  I was lost in my misery, and refused to see it even when someone had the nerve to bring it up.

My daughter, Shannon, finally confronted me about it.  Returning one evening from a seminar about handling ‘difficult teens, there was a message to call her.

I could tell Shannon was tense by the tone in her voice when she answered the phone.  Shannon is my ‘helper’ child.  Growing up, and to this day, she loved to please, thought more of others than herself, and has always been like a best friend to me.  But tonight I could tell something was wrong.

“Mom, do you have a few minutes?”

“Yes, what’s up?”  I tried not to sound anxious, but when you sense that something is wrong with one of your children, it’s impossible to hide all emotion.

“I need to talk to you about something, and I want you to understand I’m not trying to upset you.  You have to know that’s the last thing I would ever want to do.”

I paused more nervous than ever.  “Okay, go ahead.”

“Mom, it’s about Alex.  I know you’re trying to help her, and I love her, too.  I really do, but, Mom, our family is being torn apart.  Something has to change.”

“Shannon, you know we're going to therapy.  And we have a different drug to try now, maybe this one will help.”

“No, Mom.  You’re not hearing me.  Trust me, I know you're doing everything you can for Alex.  But the rest of us have become invisible.  And I can’t lose my family.”

“Shannon, what are you talking about?  We talk several times a week.”  I was confused.

“Yeah, Mom.  We talk.  We talk about Alex.  Just Alex.  When was the last time you asked about what was going on with me?  And, I’m not the only one that feels this way.  Will and Amy do too.  I just can’t ignore it anymore.  Mom, it hurts.”

“I don’t even know what to say, Shannon.  I’m doing the best I can.”  Tears were welling in my eyes.

“Please, Mom.  I’m not placing blame.  I’m telling you this for all of us.  I can’t sit quietly by anymore and hope it blows over.  Mom, do you realize you haven’t been to any of your grandchildren’s baseball games or school programs in a year and a half.  Reese hasn’t spent the night with you and Dad since I can’t even remember when.”

Reese, my first grand baby, was the light of my life.  Well, he had been when my life wasn’t just darkness.  I know a grandmother shouldn’t have favorites, but sometimes it can’t be helped.  I treat them all equally, and I love them all, but Reese and I have a connection that I have always cherished a tiny bit more.

Shannon continued.  I could tell she was crying now too.  “And I know if you aren’t finding time for us, you aren’t finding it for yourself.  And Dad.  Mom, I’m not trying to be selfish or mean, and I don’t have a solution, but your sole activity can’t be playing a martyr.  Alex is sucking the life out of you, and it breaks my heart.”

Her concern touched me, but at the same time it angered me.  I was doing the best I could, wasn’t I?  I wasn’t just sitting back on my butt all day waiting for a miracle from God. 

“What do you want me to do, Shannon?”  The words sounded harsh and desperate.

“Mom, I just want you to realize you have more roles in this life than just ‘Alex’s fixer’ and some of them are happy ones.  We miss you.  I miss my family.  Truthfully, I’m scared for our family.  I lay awake at night frightened that Alex will hurt you and Dad.  Mom, please, we need you too.  Just because we’re grown doesn’t mean we don’t want or need our parents.”

I couldn’t respond.  I didn’t trust my voice or what would come out of my mouth.  Silence from both ends of the phone seemed to scream that another barrier was being built in my family.

Shannon almost whispered, “Can we please try to find a balance, Mom?”  Her voice sounded both hopeful and scared.

“I’m sorry, Shannon.  Please tell your sister and brother and Reese that I’m sorry.”

“Mom, no!  I don’t want you to be sorry.  That’s not what this is about.”

“That’s all I’ve got right now.  Don’t worry.  I’m not mad at you.  I just have to work some things out in my head.  I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“Mom, I’m so sorry.  I shouldn’t have said anything.  Forget about it.  I know you’re trying.  We’ll be fine.  Please, Mom . . . I’m sorry.”

“Shannon, don’t be sorry. You’re right, completely right.  Just give me a little bit to wrap my head around this.  I’ll call you.  I promise.”  I could hear her sobbing tears of frustration as I hung up the phone.

I went to my room and shut the door.  That was one rule the therapist gave Alex that she followed.  If my door was shut, she was not to come in or knock.  It was a signal that I needed time to calm down, pray, or have a moment to regroup.  Now I was trying to do all three.  After about thirty-five minutes of praying and crying, I realized Shannon was right.  I had to find a compromise.  Alex needed me, and I would never deny her that.  But it couldn’t be at the expense of my other children, no matter how old they were.  For one thing, I realized how much I missed my time with them and my grand babies.  Alex was nearly sixteen.  She’d been with us eleven years now; she knew the rules and expectations of this family.  I would no longer allow her to monopolize my time and energy.  Bad behavior had to have consequences, and my other children would no longer be the ones suffering those consequences. 

I didn’t know what to do yet.  But I felt God had given me the strength to find a way.  Life was too short.  I didn’t want to look back someday and ask where the years had gone, only to see they were consumed by one person.  A balance could be found  We all needed this, and I believed God would walk with me each step of the way. 

“Get your mother-fucking hands off me, you fucking old man!”

I ran to see what Alex was screaming about.  Entering the living room, I saw my husband was lifting Alex up by the shoulders, pressing her against the wall.

“Jim!  What're you doing?  Let go of her!  You’ll hurt her!”  I’d never seen him like this. 

Alex was kicking and scratching, but his grip held firm.  What had she done to anger him like this?  I scanned the room for some clue. 

Jim’s words cut through my thoughts and sliced my heart.  “Get the damn knife she dropped.  I kicked it under the sofa.  The little bitch had it at my throat while I was sleeping!”

Alex yelled over his words.  “He’s lying!  He came at me.  Look at him!  He’s trying to kill me.  Mom, please help!”

I couldn’t believe my ears.  Alex had never called me ‘Mom’.


Link to Chapter 6

Alex's Break - Chapter 6  (18+) Something must be done to keep this family going. #1585224 by audra_branson