And of course, I’m not talking about one of my favorite Steely Dan songs.
No, I’m talking about having to relive sending a child to another psychiatric ward. I always knew this day would come, I just hoped/prayed it wouldn’t be today. But it was. Things happen for a reason and today was the breaking point. Call the psychologist in a panic. Yup, most likely bottoming out. Get them in a hospital now.
Three hours later I’m reciting all of my child’s sins to some strange guy who bears a striking resemblence to Hamid Karzai. Hugs, tears, goodbyes, and a 90 minute drive home to reflect.
They are thinking five to seven days. It could be five to seven minutes and it would be too damn long, but I know she needs it.