A Difficult Decision

"Sierra... has pretty much no social skills whatsoever...spends most of her time alone...doesn't even like socializing...completely lacks empathy...has an extremely short fuse...is chronologically seventeen but emotionally about seven...has a genius IQ but failed in school...is a pyromaniac...is fascinated with aliens and science fiction."

That's not me talking, that's Dr. Bill, in his assessment of my daughter Sierra.  He recommended that she be placed in an intensive psychiatric treatment facility.

 You could imagine my reaction when Dr. Bill told me he was putting Sierra away.  "I'm not committing my daughter!" I shouted.

"Mrs. Cheesman, I believe it would be the best thing for all the parties involved here.  This girl is a danger to herself and to others.  She's sick.  She's mentally ill.   If she had a physical illness, you would do everything in your power to try to get her better.  The situation is the same here.  There are two young children in your home and a third on the way.  As a court mandated reporter, I am obligated to report whether dangerous conditions are occurring in your household.  Lady, I can report you to social services and have your remaining children taken away from you because you are harboring a fugitive.  All of this stress cannot be good for your unborn baby."

My graduate assistant, Connie Cronk, has taken over teaching my classes while I'm on administrative leave from the university. I had initially requested the leave due to my pregnancy but with my daughter's problems mounting, I have extended the time I'll be away from school. Dr. Simlius, the university president, has been very gracious and understanding.

 It's possible that no one has been affected by Sierra's problems more than Sage.  She's the one who found her wrapped in that sleeping bag in front of the movie theater. 

"What did they say?" Sage asked the day after Andy and I returned from the university.  "What are they going to do with Sierra?"

While I told her Sierra's diagnosis, a few hot tears began streaming down my face.  "They want to have her put in this residential treatment center.  I told them I didn't want her committed."
"Mom, she needs help."  I could hear Sage was crying, too.
I nodded my head. "I know."
"Mom, she really needs help.  You have no idea how bad off she is.  I only spent a couple days with her at school.  She cannot take care of herself.  If she doesn't get the help, she's going to die, or she's going to kill someone else."
Deep down, in my heart of hearts, I knew Sage was right.  I don't know how to help her.  I wish the professionals could at least try.

 There's a part of me that still isn't quite convinced that Sierra is mentally ill or psychotic.  She's my daughter, after all.  She came out of me.  I guess I'm still naive in that way.  If she's mentally ill then I must be, too.
She's so angry, so full of bitterness, rage, and resentment.  What can I do to make my little girl smile again?

 There are moments when she actually seems -- loving, such as when she held Skylar on her lap while she played chess on the computer.

 Or when she picked up little Sawyer and blew kisses on his little stomach.

 Or when she decided to read Skylar a bedtime story.  Granted, it was from a science fiction novel, but that's Sierra.  That's what she's into. 
It's moments like these that almost convinces me that my little girl is in there somewhere.

Then there are times when her 'extremely short fuse' gets the better of her and she becomes a person I hardly even like, let alone love.  Just the other day we were in the office and Andy was talking to her, she snapped at him so loudly and so forcefully, all of us jumped. 

Andy and I talked about the situation when we returned to Sunset Valley.
"Andy -"
Andy sighed with resignation.  "She needs to go."
I nodded my head with reluctant agreement.
"I love her.  She's my daughter, my little girl. I love her with all my heart.  But she needs specialized help, that we can't give her.  I thought Fort Starch would work but it didn't.  She got worse."

"I mean, I don't know how I didn't see the signs, Andy.  She seemed pretty normal as a kid, hit all her milestones on time -- I just don't know what happened.  I don't know how she could have fallen so far off the rails like this.  I mean, sure, as a kid she was tomboyish but nothing really out of the ordinary. She ran away a couple times when she was little but we didn't think anything of it. But her behavior lately has just gotten outrageous.  Falling asleep in front of the movie theater?  In the woods?  In the middle of a crowded bowling alley?  Not to mention, the violent outbursts --" 

"She's going to be okay, honey.  She needs this and so do we."