This blog post is late. Four weeks late, to be exact. I had such great intentions at the beginning of August to put all of my blog obligations on a calendar, complete with topics for each post, intending to work on them in advance so I could not only fulfill all my obligations, but get them submitted in advance of their due dates. I was going to be Super Blogger. As is said, though, "the best laid plans of mice and men often go astray." And when my son Tim, who has a diagnosis of schizoaffective disorder, started to destabilize in mid-August, my plans most definitely fell by the wayside.  

I know that the qualities of a parent that is well equipped to deal with the chaos that can be a teen with mental illness are flexibility, adaptability and a calm demeanor. I, on the other hand, am a hyper-planner, easily agitated by surprises and derailment of the plan. Tim had a very stable late spring and summer, and I was lulled into feeling secure that he would remain that way.

So I was surprised when I got a call from residential treatment center in mid-August. He was having breakthrough psychosis, and was very agitated, with periodic bouts of rage, because of it. My mind snapped – I spent lots of time on the phone with his caseworker and psychiatrist talking about med adjustments, and time traveling to visit with Tim to help him talk through this, and stay on the path of self-advocating.  It took a few weeks, but we got a good med adjustment, and talked through coping skills to get him back on track.

By Labor Day, my carefully constructed plans were shot. And, then, out of disappointment in myself, rather than decide what could stay dropped and how to reconstruct the plan going forward, I dropped the plan altogether. I then spent a week throwing my own little pity party for being so unorganized and letting down those that counted on me.    

I know, I can’t be so hard on myself, and I have to be able to better roll with the punches. Intellectually, I am aware. I know I’m not the only parent who does this to herself. I know that my peer friends here will let me have my pity party and then kick my backside to move on, and I know I need that. I also know that planning is good and, for my comfort, necessary, but if the plan goes out the window, there’s no shame in having to re-jigger it. I know all this, but I couldn’t make it happen this time. But living this life, the way it is,  I’ll get lots of more chances to get it right.