About eight weeks ago, we had to take Christopher off of  his ADHD medication and his mood stabilizer medication.  The number one side effect with both the meds is aggression.

Christopher already struggles with aggression daily; the medications seemed to intensify it.

If I didn’t take him off the meds to see if that helped, his psychiatrist was going to admit him to Lakeview for evaluation.

I started using Young Living Essential Oils to help with the many issues he has.  While the oils work wonderfully, and we LOVE them, I was having to apply much more than I can afford to replenish.  With minimal income, I have not been able to reorder what helps him.

Because of that, and with Christopher’s impulsiveness and hyperness worsening to the point I am afraid he is going to hurt himself or someone else, we are forced to put him back on medications.

While this breaks my heart, it is also a relief for my heart.

The last few weeks have been hell.

Today, I experienced a fear I never want to experience again.

Christopher disappeared.

He was mad.

He did something wrong, but as most children with Asperger’s, they don’t get that “they” are the guilty party . . . . it is “always somebody else has done the wrong,” not there’s.

I thought he was outside digging.  That is what he usually does when he is mad or angry, or thinking through something.

After about ten minutes, I went to check on him to attempt talking to him to help him understand.

When I went out, he was not there.

After calling and calling, I ran through the house.

No response.

I began searching frantically for my phone to call the police.

I am in full panic mode.

“Why didn’t you check on him sooner?  You knew he was mad.”

“How far did he get?”

“Oh dear God, please don’t let anybody get him!”

Then Chris sees him. . . . . . .

In the circle, sitting on the curb with his stick.

Just sitting . . . .  and hitting his stick on the pavement.

Panic turned into utter relief.

Do I beat him for scaring the living life out of me, or embrace him?

I did neither.

As I walked towards him, Christopher yells, “I am mad at you!  I needed to be away!”

Sitting on the curb, we talked about what happened and the whys; and how dangerous it is for him to leave the yard and not tell anybody.

Then my son and I walked home.


Just thinking about it makes my head pound.

This was by far the worse incidence that has occurred in the last few weeks,  but we have experienced daily chaos and seen severe regression in his writing and communication skills.

I can not remember the name of the medication that he will be on; I will pick up the script tomorrow and see how long it takes for Medicaid to approve it.

Please be praying for Christopher, for all of us.

We are all affected by this and are desperately ready for a reprieve.