Friday, August 6, 2010

I broke my own heart last night.

The hardest thing I've ever had to do was to leave my screaming, sobbing, scared, sad little boy at the psychiatric hospital.

We spent 9.5 hours in the psych ER last night, listening to mentally ill and drug-withdrawing folks screaming and talking delusionally (the guy in the next stall kept yelling things like "Why does everyone keep ignoring me? What am I, a criminal? Did I murder someone? I don't remember!") Oy. Anyway, they ended up admitting him. The psychiatrist was very nice and explained that she really felt that he needed to be there for a few days and they needed to look at his meds. She agreed with our suspicions that he is on too much ADHD medication which is making him more aggressive than he would be otherwise, and that it might not be good that he's not being treated at all for depression. We'll see what the child psychiatrist thinks.

I am so, so sad. I miss him terribly. This hurts so bad. I feel like I betrayed him somehow. I will never forget his despair when we left him last night. I pray that he can get some help feeling better. As I will continue to remind him, we cannot wait until he is home. We are not abandoning him, though I'm sure it feels that way to him because of his life experience. But we cannot allow him to be in danger and putting us in danger, and he needs professional help in feeling less out of control.

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