Always Lent and never Easter

Maybe it's because I've been up since 4:00 am after falling asleep at 2:00 am that I'm even finding this funny, but I am obviously into dark humor . . . do you find anything at ALL funny in the fact that my child got kicked out of a PRTF for bad behavior? Five friggin' days she made it before they said they couldn't handle her. And they only have two kids. No one ever gets kicked out of PRTFs (that stands for psychiatric residential treatment facility). I could do a blog post on things Elizabeth has been kicked out of, but I can't remember them all.

They took her to Baptist Hospital and left her in the ER. She's been there the last 24 hours. SueAnn of Baptist just called me and said they are waiting to get on Butner's waiting list (That's kinda funny too—waiting to get on a waiting list). SueAnn gave me the number to talk to Elizabeth, which I just did. Her first question, "Do you hate me?" I assured her I didn't, but that I was sad that this had happened. She said, "Well, I told you I wanted to go back to Butner." She was remorseful that she had put me to trouble and that I was sad, but seemed very pleased that she was going back to CRH. It's one of the hardest things I've ever done, but I'm not rushing down there. There is no sense in reinforcing something more than I have to. She's coloring, snacking, and watching TV.

I played online solitaire for two hours in the middle of the night. It kept asking me "Are you ready to give up?" And I kept having to hit "yes". And I am.

Our QP (mental health case manager) called last night and she was livid. I think I take some comfort in the fact that everyone in the mental health field that I've talked to is incredulous. So much for the Methodists. Maybe the Episcopalians will take her. Baptist Hospital will keep her in the ER overnight but they don't want her either, so they plan on holding out until Central Regional will take her.

Ah, so it goes. It's not an earthquake, tsunami or nuclear meltdown. If I had health insurance, I'd go check MYSELF into the psych ward. But I don't, so I can't. Hell, I can't even afford to be suicidal. I think I'll go eat some chocolate. Maybe it's not the healthiest coping strategy, but I guess it's not the worst either.

At least gas and the laundromat are cheaper in Butner. And I won't give up. But I sure am tired.