Feeling Really Guilty About This

Tonight is one of the two nights that Caroline gets to call home.  As awful as it sounds, I always have this feeling of dread before I talk to her.  I kind of don't really want to talk to her.  It's like I've been pretending since early May that we don't have a bipolar daughter, and I have really enjoyed every minute of peace and normalcy.  Wow, that is a sadly self-centered thought you may think.  Pretty un-motherly.  But if you don't know what it is like living with a bipolar kid, the daily extremes of stress that we endure, the crises du jour we can always count on, and the way that her presence skews our family experience toward the bizarre at times, then yes, I might seem cold and unfeeling.  I have hope that things will get better when she comes back, that what she has learned there, along with new medications, and what we have learned while she has been gone, will result in a much more peaceful home life.  Bill is more convinced than I am of this.  I want to hope, but I am jaded.

Also, when she calls, I am always fearful that she may be down, or angry, or homesick, and I feel inadequate to help her, or to fix anything for her.  When I think about what it would have been like if I, at the age of 13, had to leave and live away from my family for months with other mentally ill kids, I experience a deeper sense of sympathy.  I love her deeply, but I don't often feel this love on the surface.  I act toward her in love and with words of comfort, but often it feels forced.  I feel love for my other girls much more often.  Love is a choice, it's true. Feelings come and go.  

Like my commitment to my husband til death do we part is a decision to act in love towards him always, regardless of how lovable he is.  Sometimes he makes me so mad I could scream, but he is mine and I have to remember always that we are better together than alone.  We are a team, even if we disagree.  That's the worst.  When we are in profound disagreement, I flip-out inside.  Normally we are pretty harmonious, so when we can't agree on something really important, it feels like the end of the world.  I have learned to be patient and to let him go through all of his machinations when he is trying to decide something big.  I can't interject too much, or he just digs his heels in.  Usually, he comes around to my point of view on his own.  I try not to say, "I told you so."  I just nod and smile.  Men.  They forget about our intuition sometimes (with my hubby more often than not.)

Anyway, I digress.  We will see how tonight's phone call goes.  I need to get over myself and focus on her needs.