Gosh, I don't even know where to start. Many thanks to everyone for the support (once again...) It means so much just to see a note/ comment/ what-have-you, and I know that some of you who haven't left a comment have still read and are doing what you can with your heart, for me and for Sara. And that just means a bunch to a girl who once again spent the day basically in bed. Not in its entirety, and I didn't do as much sleeping as yesterday, but I did have some pretty heavy crying jags. I think yesterday had a lot to do with the immediate aftermath of Monday night - the exhaustion from not sleeping, the exhaustion from crisis and plans in the air, the emotional exhaustion - as well as not having let it out until I finally convinced myself to write that entry instead of going to sleep. I'm especially glad I did that because the doctor called right after it, and he had some concept of what had happened thanks to my mom, but even the little bit of talking left to me would have been that much more difficult if it were the first time I was releasing any of it.
He was seriously kind, which always helps - that sort of gentle soothing is always appreciated. And he had some good points, as usual, too. He asked if I was beating myself up in any way, and I told him I was definitely doing less of it than I had been initially. By the time he called, I'd been feeling awful about how things went long enough to feel guilty about "my part in how things went" and I'd been feeling guilty long enough to actually think over what constituted "my part." When I thought about it, I realized that I didn't disagree with any of the decisions I'd made (in those cases where I did have choices) based on the information I had at the time. When I supported Sara's need to leave, I hadn't yet endured this massively confusing conversation with her mother that made me doubt everything I'd done.
(Sara's mom... Things are really difficult with her. I know they must be really difficult for her also, but it's still just piercing to experience. She's very cold about Sara's situation, and she has this vicious way of subtly undercutting everything someone says while sounding like a caring, compassionate, rational human being... I understand that much better how difficult it is for Sara to lean on her mom, how difficult it is that her mom is the "supportive one" in her family, when it's really so brutal. It's similar to what went on regularly with my mom a few years ago - which I hope means Sara's mom will work and progress like Mom has - and to what went on with a few of my N*land high school teachers. And it's made me extremely grateful for my mom. The doctor encouraged me to stay angry until it worked itself out - to stay angry with Sara's mom and my mom - but the desire for hatred and revenge had already begun to wane. By yesterday morning, I already felt poisoned by it, and not long afterward, I realized how much I needed my mom. And I'm lucky / blessed enough that I can lean on her now. I didn't randomly decide not to run to my brother or my dad. I don't need to pretend what happened didn't anger me, but I also don't need to hold onto that anger when so much else is already going on. Emotionally, actively. And without my mom's support, who will I go to for cuddles, hmm? I'll probably last an hour before I begin hounding the doctor's exchange in search of this miraculous "Chris." ...Anyway, talking with Sara's mom has not been the best of experiences; she can completely unpin me in about forty seconds. But it has upped my gratitude regarding mi madre, and equally awesome - perhaps even better - my talking with Sara's mom, my sharing Sara's mom's words with Dr. R, and my mom talking with Sara's mom resulted in my hearing a lot about how difficult, sick, painful, inappropriate, et cetera her manner is. - And I'm not saying I don't have compassion for her; I mean she's on the verge of losing her daughter. - The good news is, I was able to share the overall sentiment of those comments with Sara, to say, "Just because someone can make you doubt yourself completely doesn't mean they're right." And she seemed really grateful to hear that... and gladness then ensued.)
The doctor pointed out that I need to maintain my connection with Sara's mom, if I can, because I might come into another situation where I need information from her, and because the last thing Sara and I need is for her mom to decide we can't speak to each other. Even if we're legally adults. Even if she's not staying at home. (I am so fucking proud of her for this; I can't even articulate it.) I'm so proud of her for everything, and I'm trying really hard to make that clear. I told her how Dr. R thinks it's completely amazing that she did all of this on her own, to get out of such a bad situation, and she laughed the way I laughed when someone compliments me on a behavior for which I've been significantly beaten. I think it's amazing, too. Her mom did make me doubt everything, talking about how Sara was just feeling hopeless, had given up, was going to Oregon to die - she actually said this to me! - making me wonder if I really had been blind to something, if Sara really didn't want to be in treatment. Which is ridiculous. So ridiculous. I have a new theory about my sister's so-called "tendency" to say one thing and then do another. I'm thinking it's not so much, Sara comes out of a rough situation having said she'll do something but doesn't do it - as it is - Sara comes out of a rough situation, her depression and her eating disorder are raging, her parents give her zero, and I mean zero emotional support, in fact they beat her up further, until she no longer cares, figures no one else cares, and decides to fuck it all. Her mom's attitude majorally contributed to the crappiness of today; I forgot that she wasn't Sara or a neutral observer, or anything close to that. I left Sara a message this morning letting her know that I loved her - was exhausted and therefore figuring she was completely exhausted but still wanted to say that much... As the day progressed, I just got caught up in the fear of losing her and the grief that's here even though I haven't lost her, the grief at just the possibility of losing her. And I cried a lot, and I freaked a lot. I came up with complicated and completely illogical bargains I'd make with the gods if they'd only let her live. I finally called her again around seven, and I left her this awful message where I was crying and talking about how I didn't want to be a pest, I wanted her to do what she needed, and I didn't want her to feel guilty at all, but I just can't keep from being affected by this, and I really needed to hear where she was, that she was ok, just that much. Or everything.
She called back a few minutes later, and said it sounded like I was having a really hard time. So, we spent a minute or so convincing me that's ok. And then we started talking about where things are at, and I found out she's not staying with her parents, but she's still talking with her mom. She's not entirely hopeless, she wants to go back to Rogers, where if nothing else she can get her meds straightened out and gain the weight she needs to gain - which she keeps pointing out will make a big difference, even if by some bizarre accident, no other progress occurs. (Yeah, right.) However, her mom - who was all, "You can't leave" the facility here because "you're not safe unsupervised" is now resisting Sara about going into Rogers. I think she'll give in eventually, but negotiations (i.e. icky stupid power struggle meets serious need for action *now*) continue ... and make me nuts. She needs to stay alive. Everything else comes second to that. So, I don't care about the lessons, I don't care about the politics, I don't care about the relationshit, I don't care about the money (and I wouldn't if it was my own), I don't care about the hurt feelings and injured egos. As the doctor said, Sara not being in That Evil Place is, at this point, simply a fact. Why she left, whether she should have done so, everything like that is no longer relevent. Not right now. Right now, all that matters is she isn't there. And that means she needs to be getting back into Rogers sooner than asap. She needs to be back now. I will sleep at night, and we will both wake up in the mornings. She'll gain the weight and fix her meds, and if nothing else happens (yeah, right) - she'll still be physically stable and less distorted mentally. She'll be alive.
And you know, that's really all that matters to me right now. Yes, she deserves complete healing, a remarkably outstanding life, parental reform, and a thousand other things. But right now, I'm focusing on the one wish - life. I'm focusing on "I will not miss my next chance to hold her, so make sure I have one, you hear?"
...I think it's a very good thing that this love/ "God"/ whatever (now isn't that worth adopting..."Personally, I worship whatever") doesn't mind my stubborn, lip-stuck-out insistence about some things. It's really just a child's instinct. And I'm glad I don't run the universe - really, I am - even though I fight with certain things enough to make it look like I want the job. I think the universe is doing a better job than I could. Sara, for instance, I'd give a raw deal when I got scared. I'd make a deal with someone "just to keep her alive" and then we'd see how much more than that she needs. In spite of the fact that she jabbed at me today for getting "cured" the first time I went into residential. She took it back, which was good - because I had a hard time defending my hard time. And then later, when I talked about my occasionally crazy desire to be someone who's being taken care of, to need Rogers, to have every bit of Superdoc kindness and so forth, she gave a pitying hum and told me I was cute. So we're all better now... Right. Because it's possible for us to not make it all better. Because we could stand that. Er, no.
She's ok, she's ok, she's ok. For now. She's still sick, and we still need to pray-or-whatever's-equivalent. (And to those of you who are, a thousand times gratitude...) I'm still struggling; I'm still pulling by, hoping that my life is worse than most people's because I'd just like to believe the majority of people don't have this degree of pain to shoulder. But we're putting it together. She sounded free tonight, free of that evil place, focused once again on freeing herself from illness. I don't know how we're doing this, but we are. And we will. And our last name is Brave for a reason.
~me