Mom. Yeah, she’s not doing so well. I’m not coping so well.
I saw her this weekend. I talked for a couple minutes with the really nice tech/aide that’s usually there on weekends. He answered the door, so we had time to talk alone. She’s refusing meals. She’s skipping therapy sessions. She’s talking about wanting to die and wanting God to take her. To the point of pissing off her roommates and being placed in time out. She was accused of being a bigot by one of her roommates. Yes, Mom is bigoted (although she’ll claim she isn’t), but I don’t think the remark was a racist one. She told a roommate that an aide was being a wise ass. It turns out the aide is white and is married to the nice aide, who is black. Mom claims she didn’t even know they were married. I think she was being bitchy and said something stupid. I don’t think she was commenting on their marriage. Not that it matters. She should have known better than to say it. The treatment facility has rules of conduct and she’s broken several of them.
I spent all of maybe 15 minutes there before Mom asked me to leave. I’m tired of the “I’ve given up” talk. I told her I’m not going to join the pity party and I don’t feel sorry for her. She wanted to go into treatment and she got what she wanted. I can’t help that she makes poor choices. When she was in the hospital psych unit, they did everything they could to help her and even had the independent living apartment lined up for her. She decided she wanted this treatment facility instead. Once she got in, she wanted out. She wanted to play by her rules, not theirs.
I should talk to the social worker and see what’s up. How far they’ll let this go. He’s had nothing to offer in the past couple of conversations. I doubt speaking with the shrink will give me any more answers. He sees the patients once or twice a month and deals only with meds.
Around we go, in fucking circles. Things get better for a while, then something sets her off, and we're back at the bottom.