Awake again. It seems I haven't had a full nights sleep in weeks. The depth of my loneliness has come to consume me, a familiar reality. The old struggles roll together with the new, piling hurt and frustration and worry, one upon the other in a suffocating blizzard of emotion. I can't catch my breath. I can't sleep. tears flow in aggravating endlessness. I long to reach out to someone, to pour out my heart to anyone that would listen. But the heartbreaking truth is that there is no one. I know all too well that there is no one.

Time and energy spent tending the hearts of my children has replaced the efforts of tending friendships, and there lies the void. No one that knows me, no one to listen. Even if I did feel that I had payed ahead in a relationship enough to call upon the account in my time of need, the likely response to my hearts cry would surely be that we had ' brought this upon ourselves'. Words I can't bear to hear as I gasp for breath.

So here I sit, licking my own wounds and feeling trapped. I need a break so badly but can't go anywhere because we never know when Miss A will have an "episode". I'm worn out and tired of feeling afraid of her. Every time I hear her voice raise even a little, my hands instantly start to shake involuntarily. My heart begins to race and in an instant I am on alert, ready for what may come. Will I ever get over it?

The last "episode" was especially traumatic for me. I was alone with her and in the hour and a half struggle to keep her from doing more damage to the house, or running out into the road, my knee was injured. In her psychotic state, she doesn't recognize that I'm hurt and continues to fight me for another hour or two. We have been through so many similar scenes over the past year. Times when she has tried to hurt us or herself. I don't know why this one was particularly difficult for me to recover from. Maybe because of my knee, or the fact that I was alone, but more likely because I had been hoping that we were on the road to healing.

Hope is powerful. It carries you along in the darkest hours, giving strength and direction when none can be found. Now the dark reality that she probably will not get better consumes me in its hungry path. I don't really know how we survived the last year? The scars are still fresh in each of us. Mental illness is ugly and incredibly frightening. How long will we have to go on?

She is 16 now, will it be until she's 18? How will she ever live on her own? The added complication of being developmentally delayed, makes it impossible. She can't even read a label, let alone understand what it says. Any option for living somewhere else is far beyond out means financially. We have 10 other children to care for.

Here is where I hear the judging voices saying, "with that many children, you were bound to have this happen" or "you made your bed..." All of which is true. Except we believed that we were obeying God and we still do. Knowing that you have followed where God has led certainly helps, but doesn't preclude the need for a sympathetic ear in the hard times.

As I sort through the jumble of issues that have poured down on me over the previous months, I can't help wishing that the world would just stop long enough for me to process each thing. How I long for a vacation, even a weekend away...but I know that it would never be enough. In the end, everything would still be here, waiting. Besides, we can't leave Miss A.

I have spent hours on end sorting through the various governmental agencies trying to determine the services that are available to her now and after she turns 18. They consider us an "at risk" family (a title I never imagined we would have) and want to help us out any way they can. Yet, all good intention fall by the wayside when budgets are cut to save a drowning bureaucracy. There is nothing for us. Not even respite care.

Now, there are some families that would take her for respite. But really, I have a hard time trusting anyone's credibility that says they would willingly take our mentally ill, developmentally disabled, behaviorally challenged, RAD, ODD, etc, etc....daughter!! I say that tongue-in-cheek, but the truth is, she's still my daughter and I care about her well-being and a person would have to be insane to choose this!

I should probably go to bed now. Its 4 am and I'm back on duty in a couple of hours. Thanks for listening. As I say good night (or good morning, rather) I want to say one last thing. As difficult as this all is, I love my daughter. I don't like her illness, what we have gone through is yucky, but I do love her and will continue to stand by her (forever!), I'm thankful for her and will choose to believe that God has a plan in all of this.