Now, where have my parents been through all of this? I’ve been in Sacramento; they now live in Eureka on the northern coast of California. I’ll make calls to my dad to ask woodworking questions, emailing him pictures of things I want to make. I have short calls to my mom and sister. But, they know me and they are starting to realize that something is wrong.
My birthday is November 20th, right near Thanksgiving. My parents have decided to come get me and take me to Eureka. My mom and sister come on my birthday and want to take me out to dinner. When they get there, I’ve tried my best to make my apt look nice (impossible). I tell them we need to get take out, I can’t do a restaurant. I notice many shared looks between them.
I bring the dog, leave the cat with enough food for a month not for the four days I’ll be gone. I feel so guilty for leaving him by himself; there is no one I trust to check in on him. He’ll be fine though.
During my visit I realize it is actually an intervention. They have made plans to move me to Eureka. I can still go to school, since its online I could live in a tree as long as I can get a signal. Mom is going to be my payee, take over my finances. She will pay my rent and bills for me (from my money, this is no free ride). My job is to pack up the apartment which includes getting rid of about half my stuff, and to go to the county clinic and get my meds and find out how to transfer my information to the new county.
I kept expecting to get angry. I never do. I’m relieved. This is what I wanted when I was in the hospital two years ago after the Geodon stroke. I knew I was going to get sick, but was too proud to ask my parents for help. Think of all the things I would have avoided – two black out car accidents, an evil boyfriend, pretending low lives were my friends, and leaving splatters of black paint on the kitchen floor from painting shelves that never quite stood up straight.
After they drive me back to Sacramento I start to tell everyone I’m leaving. They all pretend to care on a personal level. Yeah, right. The redecorating friend and I put my sofa and huge army surplus desk in two different alleys. I start just handing things out. I made a mistake on a couple of things, but most were things I’ve moved from place to place for 15 years and have never needed.
All the while I’m trying to keep up with the Romance class. I give up a week before it ended. I talk to the Dean and it is decided that if I get a Psychiatrists letter I can get a medical withdrawal. This brings up mom’s rule about meds. I go to the country clinic, after a week’s wait I see their Dr. I have my meds and start taking them. My brain slowly starts to come back to me. Boy, when I start seeing what I have been doing with my life comes to me; I want to crawl under my bed.
The day after Christmas my parents come with a U-haul. My dad looks at my “shop” and shakes his head. We can’t fit the workbench, but I find a friend to sell it to. I end up selling most of the bigger items in Eureka because my dad has everything, and better versions in his shop. I’ve made a beautiful Poplar coffee table with my dad, four full size bookshelves (that actually stand up straight and hold books), and a shelving system for the bathroom. But, I’ll always look back on my kitchen wood shop with a smile.
Once we find an apartment I can afford my little family settles in (the dog isn’t really supposed to be here, but the owner is 100 miles away) and I start to get used to quiet living. I love it. I’m 3 semesters from graduation with a healthy GPA. I’m writing a lot. I have plans. I have an advisor at a university with an online option who is interested in my idea for a Doctoral dissertation. I found a wonderful Psychiatrist. He listens to me, he calls me on things. But if I say something isn’t working he’ll say let’s try something else. If I say I was researching new meds and I liked what they said about this, he’ll look it up as well and give his opinion on whether or not I should try it
Its not all flowers and butterflies, but it’s a nice life.