Chelsey

For the past two weeks my sister has been in a manic episode (at least, that's what we are currently assuming.  The alternative would be the early stages of schizophrenia).  Last week it drastically worsened.  She had multiple suicide attempts, self-harm, and really bizarre delusions.  My parents took her to the ER twice, and she is now in a good neuropsych hospital.

When I first heard that Chelsey had been taken to the ER for her suicidality and delusions, I thought this:

I really, really wanted Chelsey to come visit me for a week.  Now that won't be possible.  Or if it is possible, it won't be what I wanted.  It won't be with the person I really wanted to be with.  Not really.

That thought made me really sad, and I've really struggled with it the past two weeks.  I am mourning that opportunity.  I've had seventy thoughts since then, but that theme of "not the person I know" has run through most of them.  The stories I'm hearing describe someone different from the Chelsey I knew.  And what if I cannot get her back?

I don't know how to proceed with this blog post from here, and so it seems like the simplest way will be to write down a brief summary of the other recurring thoughts I've had in the past week.  I am writing them down as I had them:

     1.  How are my parents getting through this?  What is this like for them?

     2.  For the first time, I am afraid of what people might think of me if they know what I am going through.  I have freely blogged about and discussed my husband and my dad's history of depression without even a thought of being judged for it.  But the threat of schizophrenia in my family is different, and I am afraid.  (Even though this thought only lasted for a moment, it scared me to have it).

     3.  I bought Chelsey a t-shirt for her birthday.  Maybe I should send it to her, since she's having a hard time?  But I don't know that she is having a hard time.  I don't know that she is even aware of everything she is going through.  And I don't really want to give it to this person, who I don't even know.  I don't want to give it to her.  I bought it for Chelsey, the one I know.  If I wait until her birthday in September, can I give it to the Chelsey I remember?   If I wait forever, would that be long enough?

     4.  What does it mean if I never get Chelsey back?  What does it mean if I have to accept this new person, who I will never spend as much time with as I spent with my Chelsey?  What is the personality continuity across this psychotic break?  Break is a good word for this.  

     5.  How dare the neuropsych staff say Chelsey is nonverbal.  How. dare. they. 

     6.  How can I leave Chelsey in a place where she is defenseless?  How can I hold the image of her being dragged in her chair by a compulsive chair stacker?  How can I?

     7.  I am glad this is happening while I'm far away.

     8.  I feel sad that I can't be there.

     9.  I feel guilty for being glad.  

     10.  I'm grateful for the love and support I feel.  Especially when people know Chelsey.  It means a lot to me when people want to support me, but what means the most is when others who know Chelsey are sad.  For some reason, that means the most.

As of today, my parents report that Chelsey is doing better.  She was on an antidepressant, which can aggravate a manic episode.  The doctor is taking her off of the antidepressant and putting her on a mood stabilizer for bipolar, which gives us a healthy hope that she is bipolar and not schizophrenic (which would be huge).  The flip side of that is that as she gets better, she feels more sad to be in the neuropsych unit, and is sadder when my parents leave.  That's a good and a bad thing.

I don't normally post pics, because I value my anonymity

 with stranger-readers of this blog.  But I wanted you to see 

my beautiful sister.  This is Chelsey.