Lord Help Me

Sometimes I cared too much, and others cared too little. Growing up as a child, I constantly heard that it takes a village to raise a child. This wasn't necessarily true in my experience, as a single parent. My extended family probably felt that they were ill-equipped to assist me with caring for my mentally unwell daughter. I didn't have any experience with dealing with cognitive and behavioral issues either. The only thing that God equipped me with was an unlimited capacity to love. There have been numerous occasions when I felt like giving up, but my soul wouldn't allow it. I didn't know that I would be stretched to the limit mentally when I chose to show up daily. It's a commitment that not a lot of people can handle.

My journey with caregiving started 8 years ago at Baylor Hospital in Dallas. I was confronted with one of my worst nightmares. I was a bit naive initially because I believed that once the hospital discharged my daughter that things would go back to "normal". Never in my wildest dreams did I expect my next stop would be an inpatient behavioral health hospital. I didn't have much time to gather my thoughts while I drove alone to the hospital while my mother accompanied my daughter in the ambulance. This was a precursor for how most of my time assisting my daughter would be.

It's still feels foreign to me expressing my feelings, because for years I kept a lot of my frustration inside because I had to be strong in the moment. There's no time to cry or feel defeated when you are in a battle to save the life of someone you birthed. It's almost as if I sacrificed my sanity to maintain hers. During the most difficult moments, I oftentimes kept things hidden out of the need to protect her privacy and also to avoid dealing with stigmas. There's so much to learn, and it's hard to explain all the nuisances unless you have personal experience. I titled this blog post "Lord Help Me", because this is who I should have sought during all those times of despair.