Raising Bipolar

Well, we had some excitement yesterday. It went like this:

Rye wakes up and is wound up from the get-go.   I mean, he’s ready to charge.  Hyper, ansty, doesn’t want to eat.  You know the drill.  Oh dear, I think, it’s gonna be a long one.  I’ve gotten to where I just know these things.  I can feel it in my bones.  And let’s just say, for the record, that while the Depakote is starting to work we are still in lower levels so it’s not a round-the clocker yet.   And it also doesn’t fix the kid from being strong willed by nature and in the throws of puberty, which I have now learned can cause all kinds of ill-thought-out behavior even in the most normal of kids (remember the Runaway Hunter event from just last week?   Those are normal kids).

Anyway, we start the day and I can tell we are going to need to keep busy.  So I make him eat a bowl of Cheerios (food helps the blood sugar levels and helps calm him) and we decide to postpone the book work until later in the day when things are calmer.  We decide instead to spend the morning going to Lowe’s to buy cages for Gam’s garden tomatoes and then we will go install them.   So, we eat and head out.

We get to Lowe’s and Rye is ansty.  He can’t seem so stay still and is getting pressury and sassy.  Come on, come on…pressure, pressure, pressure – this is the vibe he exudes.  I get the cages and we go put them in the car and then it happens.  He asks me for something that I say no to.   And he blows.  He calls me a name, kicks the car, and starts walking.  With purpose.   I mean, he’s hoofing it.  Across the huge, hot, black asphalt parking lot.  At full speed.

So, here I have a decision to make.  Do I follow him?  Beg him to come back?  Ask him what’s wrong?  What can I do to help?  Nope.  Not today.  I’ve put in my time on this type of shenanigans last week with his friends and their antics and I told him at that time, you run like that and you’d better keep going.  You decide you have a better plan for yourself than we have for you at home?  Good riddance.   I’m done searching for hours for kids who think they know best when they have lots of other options for help.

So I sat for a few minutes and waited.  And when I saw that he was already to the clear other end of the shopping center with no looking back, I left.   And drove home.  He clearly knows what he’s doing, it seems.  And we’ve had this discussion before about what would happen if he decided to make decisions like this.  So, I was gone.  Over and out.  He knows the way home and it’s walkable (we live in a fairly small town and the only reason we even have a Lowe’s here is that suburbia is rapidly descending upon us).

On the way home I call Don at work and ask him to cut off service to Rye’s phone.  And he does.  Luckily we can do this via computer instantaneously.   You may think this is counterintutitve to cut off his phone but this way Rye can’t call anyone to come and get him.  Or give him a ride etc, etc.   He will now have to use his own two feet to get anywhere or find anyone to talk to.

And I go home and wait.  I talk to Don and we decide if I haven’t seen or heard from him in a few hours I will go looking for him or call the police.  But it’s a straight walk home and he knows the way and knows plenty of people in town so he’s not in too much danger.

And I wait.

And low and behold, about an hour and a half later there’s a knock at the door.  It’s Rye.  And he’s pooped.  He had walked straight home but had to stop for water a couple of times because it was pretty hot outside.  We do live in the South, after all.

‘Mom, what were you thinking?’  he asks me.  And so I tell him.  At length.  I remind him I had just told him last week  in no uncertain terms that if he pulled antics like his friends I was not going to play his reindeer games.  I’m not here for him to torment and use at his discretion just to get tales of intrigue to tell his buddies of how independent and wiley he is.  And I remind him again of his options:

1. Follow the rules of the house

2. If you can’t follow the rules of the house, go to the hosptial and get your medication or your attitude adjusted

3. If you don’t want to follow the rules of the house, we will find a boarding school or live-out wildnerness program for you to attend so you have a safe and structured place to live

Period.

Learn it, love it, live it.

He cried and decompressed for a while.  He said he won’t ever run away because now he knows I won’t come looking for him.  I also reminded him that if he ever breaks the law, I won’t bail him out of jail.  You know what to do and what not to do, I remind him.  And you also know the consequences.  ‘I know, I know’ he said.   “Choose wisely,’ I say.

And the rest of the day went fine.  He listened and was polite.  He did lose his phone and computer indefinitely.  This is for the best anyway though as I truly believe they are both way too overstimulating for him and cause more problems than they are worth.

We had tacos for dinner and Rye and his friend and Don swam in pool for a while and played pool games.   They all seemed to enjoy it.

And that’s it.

For today, anyway…