One of the worst feelings that a human being can have is one of invisibility. From early on in our relationship with Ameri, she either felt herself to be invisible or she treated us as we were invisible. It was a word weapon we used against each other. When she was especially awful, I would tell her, "I am making you invisible." She would break down and plead to not be invisible. It was so powerful. It was a terrible weapon.
Ameri is invisible again. She is so ill and so alone in her new life in her apartment. She hates being here because she feels like she doesn't belong. There she is the handmaiden to her boyfriend. I don't get it.
I read again recently about the experiments with monkeys that were deprived of touch and care by a mother figure when they were babies. Ameri missed that as an infant and on into her toddler years. She was abandoned by her first adopted family to an institution. Her life was very sad. She has brought that sad to our family. Try as we might, we are never able to do enough. We have bled blood and treasure over her like we were in combat.
This evening, I get a report from Mom that Ameri has been taking a new medication for three days now. She is fit to be with. She is almost sweet.
I have been redoing a bedroom. Some of Ameri's clothes are hanging in there. There is a dress that she and mom had to buy when they went to a wedding in Colorado. She had not given much thought to what she would wear before she left. When she got to Colorado, she decided that she would have to have a "proper wedding dress." So they went shopping. That proper wedding dress is now hanging in that closet that needs to be cleaned. This is a really tough love.
