Last night a desperate thought fought its way through the harried chaos of my brain and into my consciousness:
I CAN’T DO THIS. I need to send Natalie away for a week -- somewhere — and have someone “fix” her.
Sadly, “somewhere” doesn’t exist. And what she has can’t be “fixed.”
I know, I know. She’s not actually broken, she’s just wired differently. And with the right ADHD medication and coping skills, she’ll have a perfectly marvelous life.
But getting there — to the right medication and to coping skill mastery — has gotten to me.
We’re in the midst of yet another med change, and so far, not so good. Nat’s taking 20 mg of Ritalin LA, twice a day, and Prozac at bedtime. On the positive side, the motor-craziness that the Focalin XR seemed to cause is gone. Nat seems more herself, somehow. And she’s sleeping beautifully. On the negative side, she’s very, very, distractible and impulsive. It’s clear she’s not being “naughty.” She really can’t control herself.
I have a call into the doctor again. Can we try a higher dose? I hope so.
Because the only “somewhere” that Natalie belongs is in my arms. I just need the strength to hold her.
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