Released from the hospital/2001-2004

(Emma when we lived in Salinas, 2001.)

After Emma was released from the hospital, I met with a panel of doctors for the first time. The panel consisted of her therapist, and a few social workers who thought I was incapable of taking care of her. They wanted to meet with me to see whether I was an “unfit” mother. This was the first time the County wanted to take Emma away from me. This was to be the first in a series of battles. I only cried out to God, “Why was this happening to me?” I prayed for God to be with me, and to be strong in me.

Most of the panel was unfavorable to me, except one person. It was a scrutinizing hour hearing stranger say that I was unfit, and not good for Emma. I had been taking Emma to a Gastroenterologist and therapy for years. The panel blew one missed appointment out of proportion.

"What kind of a parent would miss such an important appointment?" they berated.

"

"Look at all the appointments I kept." "Do you realize I had to take my daughter over there on two city buses, being sick the way she is.” “Do you think that was easy for me or for her?” I said standing my ground. My cheeks were strewn with tears and I wept. I knew God was holding onto us. By the gracious mercy of God they didn’t take Emma away from me.

By the time Emma was 7, momma had to “kick” both of us out of her apartment. Emma was in one of her usual tirades, screaming and cussing at me, when I threw the belt out of frustration, hitting and breaking the window with the buckle of the belt. There was a visible crack across the window I could not hide.

We went to live with daddy in Salinas to get treatment for Emma, as the doctors in Fresno would not help us or prescribe her any kind of medication.

By this time I had been working on my second novel about an SS Colonel working in Occupied Paris. It was a demonic book, in the sense that the lead character tortured and murdered women in the Resistance, I was still so angry and bitter and began to create these characters to pour my rage into. Writing this book made me feel powerful after the humiliation I had suffered at the hands of Peter, and the rest of the men who had used me and dumped me. A root of deep bitterness needed to be plucked out of me, it had been growing since I was a child watching my father beating and verbally abusing my mother. As a child, I was expected to lie to my mother for my father, in order to keep our family together.

“If you tell your mother I am on the phone, she will leave me, and break our family up.” My mother was equally as insistent, “Tell me if your father is on the phone, and don’t lie to me.” This insoluble problem tormented me as a child.

I hated men, and The Lord had to crucify this person. I created all kinds of characters and worked on my father’s computer, while he was at work.

The book began to take its toll on me. It was destroying me inside, and I began to grieve the Holy Spirit, as I became obsessed with writing it. It was my plan to use my pain to write a best-selling novel. There was another character in the book named General Emile Hauptmann who was a Catholic, but a homosexual. I wanted to drive the point home that God condemned homosexuality, but desired to change the heart of the sinner. Because He loves us He desires to make us Holy

Emma was enrolled in the 1st grade at the nearby elementary school, but the principal told me, she could only go half of the day. This was to be customary for Emma. We didn’t have a car, as my father was working most of the day. It seemed my life revolved around taking care of my sick daughter to the point where I had been unable to find employment.

When daddy came home from work on the 4th of July he wanted to take us to Boi's house to celebrate and watch fireworks. Daddy didn’t really understand Emma's mood swings. Emma was already irritable so I begged daddy to go without us.

“Daddy, go without us.” I pleaded.

“We’re going to go as a family.” Daddy said adamantly.

“Daddy Emma is already irritated, please go without us.” I begged.

Daddy was adamant for us to go as a family. Daddy was stubborn and refused take no for an answer. I just didn’t have the strength to argue with him. Jimmy and his family were already there. The kids played outside. It was only a matter of time before Vanessa ran into the house inconsolable. Emma had tried to force sand into her cousin's mouth. She continued sobbing, with sand from the sandbox near her lips. I could see Emma's expression, she had the look of the flipped light switch.

By the time we came home it was already night time, Emma was screaming in the car kicking the back of daddy’s chair. Daddy began to argue back with her. Daddy’s temper never really went away, it had hibernated because he wasn’t married to momma anymore, nor did he have the responsibility of five children. But I still heard him put Cathy down. Sometimes, he said cruel things to her. I just prayed in the backseat of the car, attempting to tune daddy and Emma’s boisterous voices out. The next minute, I heard a cacophonous thump daddy had hit a deer with the car. Emma was screaming, those child like wails as if she was being hurt, she screamed as if she was being wounded on the inside. That’s how I knew she was ill. No one had hurt her I never hurt her it took a lot for me to show my temper.

Daddy took us to the movies a couple of times but the relationship was never the same, he was close to Cathy’s daughters now, he had lived with them when they were teenagers in Reedley.

When we left Salinas I missed daddy terribly for months after. Still Emma didn’t have a diagnosis just medication and a therapist.

The twin towers collapsing changed my attitude towards things inside my heart. It was then, that I knew that I needed The Lord Jesus. I repented of writing the book I knew deep down, God hated. Our nation, The United States was in trouble, and I knew if I was truly to be an intercessory prayer there was “junk” namely my novel I had to get rid of. So, I prayed fervently, and realized God wanted me to throw my 700 page novel into the trash. By this time I was already sending out inquiries to find a publisher. But I decided to trust the Lord, The Lord told me to throw 3 years of work into the dumpster. It was a hard decision for me. I believed this is how I was going to make a living. I really believed the novel was good enough get me on Oprah Winfrey.

Two years later, in 2003, at the age of 9 Emma was finally diagnosed with pediatric bi-polar disorder by the psychiatrist at Kaiser. I don't know why I was relieved but I was. I thought I was going crazy. Dr. Chang put Emma on lithium, which was to involve frequent blood tests. This continued on for years, until she was put on Geodon.

She was finally let go from Easterby Elementary, after years of special accommodations, meetings for 504 plans, starting at 10:00 in the morning, instead of 8:00. After a year of her 3rd grade teacher allowing her to see her 2nd grade teacher, because she had just crawled under the desk again. After years of counseling at the school, and social workers, it finally happened. She went AWOL from school, and ran home to the apartment. This was the first of many times. I didn’t see Emma follow the car home after the IEP (Individual Educational Plan) meeting. It terrified me that she could just leave campus without anyone knowing.

By the time Emma was in the 3rd grade Boi had bought me a used1990 Nissan Stanza, When he gave it to me, I knew it was The Lord that put the keys into my hands, but only for a season. The car broke down after only a year.

It was then, that another IEP meeting was called, and she was put into an intervention program at Kratt. This school was across town, and I didn't know how I would get Emma to school. I knew she wasn't going to take the school bus known as the Laidlaw bus out there.

The Lord and I seemed to grow continually closer.

Emma began treatment with The County with a young therapist named Gabe Gomez. He was a kind young intern who would be Emma’s therapist for 3 years. Gabe was about 30, he looked Caucasian and his eyes were green. He became extremely necessary. He became more like my therapist, when she wouldn’t come to therapy he would talk to me. It was then that I began to become attached to him. But I knew I never had a chance with him, I was 39, and he was Emma’s therapist. My heart at that time felt tragically close to him.

By this time, I badly needed therapy for myself. I started to see a series of therapists. I didn’t like the first two I had, until I met Peggy Ruud. By this time, I was attending the church at The Assemblies of God. By The Grace of God I began receiving SSI disability payments for Emma.

Living with my mother became increasingly harder particularly since she married her longtime boyfriend Roger. We all lived in a 2 bedroom apartment. Mia, Emma and I slept in one room, while momma and Roger slept in the other. This was not easy since Roger was an alcoholic, as my mother had been.

While I lived there I had my wisdom teeth removed, the terrible thing about being poor is having local anesthesia after awhile it wears off. When it wore off I pretended to be in the Resistance being tortured for some vital piece of information. The dentist was an agent of the Gestapo. Tears slid from my face, as it wasn’t pressure like the dentist had said.

At night Mia would get me ice from the refrigerator for my swollen face. We slept right next to each other. She would hear me moaning and would get up without my having to ask her.

It was 2004, when Emma and I moved out of momma’s apartment into a one bedroom apartment her condition grew worse in this place. It was lonely. I had never been on my own before, I always lived with momma and Mia. It was painful leaving being pulled away from what was familiar. I used to cry in my new one bedroom apartment. Emma was still violent. I felt as if I never left my situation with daddy, somehow it continued daddy’s spirit lingered on. I was used to it. It wasn’t pleasant, but it was my life.

Almost immediately had stopped working and the manager had it towed. We went back to riding the city bus.

I used to take Emma to eat at Foster’s Freeze as it was within walking distance. Once, we began walking she had my headphones, and threw the CD player on the ground, damaging my Donny Osmond CD. She refused to get up, and stayed on the ground, I began to walk off. But I had to return as she stayed planted on the ground. Gabe used to tell me, that I still rewarded her when I should have punished her. I still took her to Foster’s Freeze that day.

I began attending Valley Christian Center across the street. In between the worship service I would run home to check on her. Emma was only 10 at the time, and mentally ill. This was an especially lonely time for me, as Emma and I were on our own for the very first time. This was the first time I discovered I could speak in tongues it was scary because that had never happened before. I was praising the Lord, singing to Him, when I began weeping uncontrollably, with joy, yet anguish, I wanted to run after The Lord Jesus. I cried out to Him, and then utterances, strange utterances proceeded from me. It was then, that I knew I needed a deeper relationship with Jesus.

When momma went on her honeymoon with Roger to Hawaii, Emma had a nervous breakdown. Emma smashed the second story window, and had a huge shard of broken glass in her hand, scratching the dresser with it. I was terrified that she would stab herself with it. When I pulled it away, she bit a chunk of skin from my hand.

I called the ambulance, and she was taken to the CARRE unit. (Crisis Center for Minors.) This was one of the first times, in what would be a dozens of visits. Emma despised CARRE.

The ambulance wouldn’t let me ride with her. So, I waited at the bus stop alone in the dark, and rode the bus to the CARRE unit. The same familiar tears streaked down my cheeks.

The social workers wanted me to put Emma in Foster Care almost immediately.

“Lord, it almost seemed this is what my life was going to be a series of episodes, of bites and scratches?”

In those days, my face was scratched up nearly every day. I had scratches from Emma’s nails on my cheeks. My arms were bitten. It seemed she was beating me nearly every day.

It was then, that I began an intense time with The Lord again. I was lonely, my face scratched, and we were on foot often. I cried out to The Lord again, desperate, for Emma to get better.

“Lord, I don’t care if my whole face is scratched off, please, don’t let them take her”, was my prayer every night.

By this time she had been on Depakote, Seroquel, Risperidol, Lithium, Geodon, Prozac, to name a few of the cocktail of medications given to her. Beginning medications was hard for Emma, as she had many side effects one of the medications gave her tics. She had one particular tic, flicking her wrist several times a minute the whole day through. She had weight gain from her meds. Hunger was a serious side-effect, as she developed a voracious appetite, and was not satisfied with any meal she had just eaten. But there was nothing Dr. Borchardt her psychiatrist, an older man in his 70’s could suggest. Dr. Borchardt was always very kind to us. He was always prescribing different things. He took her off of the Lithium, and put her on a new drug called Lamictal, and Abilify, which was notorious for weight-gain.

Emma turned 11 on December 7, 2004. She had asked me to buy her a Harry Potter birthday cake, which I did. It took every last penny, and I bought her seven balloons. I was elated. When momma and I walked through the door, she gave me a look I knew the look it was the look of the switch having flipped. That was always a bad sign. Before we could cut the cake, Emma destroyed the cake with her bare hands, throwing it everywhere. She then took a knife, and popped all of the balloons, and yelled,

“That’s what you get!”

There was cake all over the ceiling fan, and frosting all over the walls, of a cake we didn’t even get to taste. Momma left with cake on her face. I was crushed usually, after trying to do something nice for her. My insides were ripped, I was disemboweled by this child that I loved, but wanted no love. She had an intense loathing for me. My face was usually smeared with the eye-liner I wore, and scratched.

I just had a procedure done on my heart. The cardiologist gave me a catheter ablation, to ablate the irregular heartbeat that had landed me in the hospital earlier in the year. I had what was known as tachycardia, I was told it was quite common, but when the heartbeat began its furious and rapid beat it was extremely painful.

The following week, “Grammy” as Emma called her took her to buy a Christmas tree, the way she did every year. Emma was elated. But when she got home, it was the look of the “flipped switch”. She threw the Christmas tree down the flight of stairs. I brought the tree back into the apartment, only to have Emma throw the tree back down again, shouting, “What an ugly tree it was.”

“You picked it”, I reminded her.

It made no difference Emma was determined to get rid of it. She threw it down several more times, until she started to sob uncontrollably, at having made the tree lopsided. She cried for what seemed like an hour then she wanted to put the blue ornaments on the tree. She was fine, until she accidently dropped one of the ornaments and it broke. For some reason, maybe because I was the only other person in the apartment, she turned her anger on me, and pushed my face into the broken ornament, cutting my cheek. I had to tell her I was going to call the police, which wasn’t a good idea. Sometimes she would tear the phone line from the wall.

“No mama”, she said, “It’s alright”. She took me by the hand to the bathroom, and began to wash the blood off of my face. See mom, you’re alright. She had cleaned my face, to a few visible scratches.

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Psalm 91

“He who dwells in the secret place of the Most High

Shall abide under the shadow of the Almighty

I will say of the Lord He is my refuge and my fortress

My God in Him I will trust.”

Surely He shall deliver you from the snare

Of the fowler

And from the perilous pestilence

He shall cover you with His feathers

And under His wings you shall take refuge

His truth shall be your shield and your buckler

You shall not be afraid of the terror by night

Nor of the arrow that flies by day,

Nor of the pestilence that walks in darkness

Nor of the destruction that lays waste at noonday

A thousand may fall at your side

And ten thousand at your right hand

But it shall not come near you

Only with your eyes shall you look

And see the reward of the wicked

Because you have made the Lord, who is

My refuge

Even the Most High your dwelling place,

Nor evil shall befall you,

Nor shall any plague come near your

Dwelling

For He shall give His angels charge over

You.

To keep you in all your ways

In their hands they shall bear you up,

Lest you dash your foot against a stone

You shall tread upon the lion and the

Cobra

The young lion and the serpent you shall

Trample underfoot

Because he has set his love upon Me

Therefore I will deliver him;

I will set him on high because he has

Known My name

He shall call upon Me and I will answer

Him;

I will be with him in trouble;

I will deliver him, and honor him

With long life I will satisfy him

And show him my Salvation.”

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