The Club No One Wants to Be A Part Of
This was never part of the plan.
I have never read anything about being the parent of a child with mental illness. I’m sure the blogs and articles exist, I just have not looked for them, probably in hopes that my experience is extremely rare. I cannot think of anything that could possibly be more acutely painful than living in this reality. Maybe I’ve been in denial and avoided confirming I was part of the shittiest club ever, one that none of us wants to be a part of. When I chose to become a mother, this was never in the plan.
My children are young adults, both struggle with anxiety and depression, each coping in their own ways. We’ve been told much of it is genetic, their father battled this too and self medicated with alcohol. We divorced long ago and he chose to abandon our children with whom he has more in common with than he could possibly know. As you can imagine, this has only added to their distress.
When I was married to their father he would often romanticize suicide even when he seemed to be feeling stable. When he was at his lowest points he would often tell me he wished he could end it all, and he would often threaten that one day I’d come home and find him dead. I lived with this for many years, never telling anyone and hoping as the threats and glorification faded away that it was actually erased from our experience, but it always resurfaced. Now when I hear similar words coming from my sweet children’s lips, I feel as though the metaphoric gun is actually pointed at me and that the bullet has my name. This death threat is not for me physically but for my spirit and I wonder what will actually become of me if or when the trigger is pulled.
On numerous occasions I’ve caught myself deep in thought, deciding if I will or will not tell their father if one of them succumbs to the darkness their psyches periodically inhabit. I’ve considered if I will or will not have a funeral, I have wondered how I will go on if one or both of them choose to leave this earth. These are not thoughts a mother should have, but they are fairly common for me. I feel like these speculations should be terrifying, but I almost find comfort in them. This may sound ludicrous, and while it is something I hope I never actually experience, I have no control if either of them chooses to end their life, but I hope I will find shred of control in the aftermath if need be.
For now, I find some comfort knowing that my daughter has just completed an Intensive Outpatient Program, is on medication and in therapy and I know that my son is not currently taking the drugs he was addicted to for several years. I hold these victories tight, but sadly I already feel them slipping from my grasp when days like yesterday happen. One kid had what felt like an earthshattering betrayal take place, ending with an ambulance ride to the Crisis Stabilization Unit all while the other was texting me, saying he doesn’t know how much longer he can deal with living with his sister — because it’s taking a toll on his well being.
I have no answers. I don’t even see the day to day, it’s more like moment to moment. I catch myself holding my breath, remembering those sweet, loving, joyful children I raised, I dream of driving to where they live and holding them tight forever. If I could, I would magically manifest mental health and contentment for each of them. I used to imagine their adventures they would have once they were grown, now I just want them to stay alive and maybe even be happy.
The Catalyst Coaching Intensive will give you the tools to see your life in a more positive light.
