I've written before (in comments on other threads) about my daughter. She was diagnosed with bipolar2, NPD and possible ADHD in January, following her lying to the police in order to have me arrested and her younger brother "taken away from [me]". I was released without charge (although she's adamant that she pressed them), she was referred on to the mental health team, childrens services came and said what a great mum I am (if that's even possible). My daughter is 20 next Sunday, and my son is 11.
She stopped taking her medication in the middle of May. Having already lived through several pyschotic breakdowns with her at the helm (the last one, she honestly believed that she was the next Messiah...), I've recognised the signs of another one building. I've begged for help for her, but because she's an adult, and is adamant that there's actually nothing wrong with her (she's convinced that I'm in league with her psych team - not one of whom I've ever met/spoken to in my life! - and that I simply want to "stifle [her] creativity" and prevent her from living her life. Actually, all I want is for her to be safe, and as well as she's ever going to get!), no one's interested. She's spent the last 6 months essentially abusing me. If I ask her to put the recycling out, it's "I'll have you re-arrested and [DS] taken off you, you cunt!", and so on. Threats of violence towards me and herself, emotional abuse, verbal abuse.
Last night, she threw a pan of cooking steak over the kitchen, whilst I and DS were standing there (she'd been cooking it), because I'd dared to ask her if she'd put the chips on (she'd said she was going to cook supper, as apparently only she knows how to cook steak). She then screeched at me, was I insane, because I'd just flung the pan all over the place before she went up to her room. I was worried the situation was going to escalate, so went up to apologise to her, to find her shoving clothes into her bag. I think I said something like "don't be so ludicrous"... and the next thing I know, she's shoving me over into her window. My son tells me that I hit my head on the sill, and that he called for an ambulance, which I apparently refused, so he called my mother. I don't remember any of this at all. Next thing I know, I'm being hauled upright by two police officers, my mother's standing there, and my DS is in hysterics because he thought that I was going to be arrested again. My mother had called an ambulance, and apparently, if an ambulance is called twice to the same address in a short space of time - they send the police, too.
Ambulance crew attended, examined me, I have a concussion, swelling to the occipital bone on the side that must have whacked the windowsill, and because I was so totally out of it, they determined that they had to do "the drunk tests" on me... which was completely humiliating as the only mind altering substances I had in my system were my prescribed meds for the day that far (I have neuropathy and fibromyalgia, amongst other things). I refused to go to hospital because, frankly, I've probably spent most of my life concussed one way or the other, and over the years I've survived worse. Police officer took my initial statement, listened to everything that I had to say, whilst his colleague was talking to my DS downstairs (according to them, he's a level headed kid because he gave a totally unbiased statement of what had happened, and even showed them on Google Maps where they could find his sister - who had told my mother, when she called her, that she was at the boyfriend's). They went off and arrested her, put her in a cell for several hours, and did everything that goes with that.
I haven't pressed charges. I know that I ought to have. She essentially left me for dead. For all she knew, she'd killed me and she chose to run and leave an 11 year old boy to deal with that by himself. I also know that this is because she's unmedicated and very unwell. I know that I didn't cause this, I cannot cure it, and I always forget the third 'C'. I've spent most of the last evening and this morning reassuring my son that he absolutely did the right thing, and that he's not to blame in any way, shape, or form for any of this. I know that last night happened because she's failed her first year at uni, and failed the resit. She was probably panicking because every teacher/tutor she's ever had up until uni has done nothing but allow her to coast... and uni, where she was expected to not only work, but to pull her weight in a team, proved out of her realm of understanding, I think. Her boyfriend also refused to talk to her yesterday, and she was in a mood about that.
Right now, I honestly feel as though my daughter died last night. She's lost herself to me forever. My mother and the police officer who called at 1am to find out what I wanted to do (this all started just before 6pm), both said that I have to put myself and DS first now. And rationally, I know that I do. I will. I just feel so tired, and immensely sad. All I can think about is how I used to look at her when she was a baby and a very young child and dream of all the different futures she could have. This? This definitely wasn't one of them.
I don't even really know why I'm typing this post. I just need to get it all out of my head so that I can put it to one side and try to move on for my son's sake. All I want is to curl up into a ball and howl for the loss of my daughter. But I can't.
It's funny, though (in a not-at-all-really sort of a way). If I were dating her, I could walk away. But because I'm her mother... I can't. Because I'll spend the rest of my life worrying about her, even though I'll never see her again. I just hope she's safe and that her boyfriend knows what he's let himself in for.