So how's this for a welcome home from the psych hospital? (Among lots of good stuff...dog kisses in spades, children hugs, etc.). I shouldn't be here. Find myself actually and bizarrely wishing for the ersatz safety of the hospital. But I am here. And I love my kids. And I'm fighting the good fight to stay centered and do the right thing.
After I washed dishes and my son went upstairs to do his thing, my daughter wanted to talk with me. Her 2nd best friend came to her to say that she was considering killing herself and was cutting. Ahem. Wow. Okay. Big, deep breath. I know the kid and the parents, and this is no huge surprise.
I did it. I played Mommy well. With my daughter's permission, I am emailing the school psychologist tonight. Told my daughter I would go with her to talk to the woman because she was unwilling to do it on her own.
Sigh. :banghead::banghead::banghead::depressed::dead:. Nothing is ever easy, is it?