Navigating life with a teenager….who happens to have bipolar disorder

Archive for August, 2015

Shall We Dance……Around the Issues?

Once I became the parent of a child with a mental illness and neurological issues, I started seeing them everywhere.  If you have a family member with any type of diagnosis, you know what I mean.  You start diagnosing everyone you come in contact with.  Even more than the world around me, I started to notice things in the worlds I escaped into…..books and movies all of a sudden had underlying themes of depression or emotional challenges.   Movies I watched as a kid and loved, no longer had as much joy to them; they were filled with sadness and struggles.

Last week I watched Shall We Dance?……the Richard Gere version.  It is a movie I had seen many times and never thought much about.  There is a line toward the end, after Gere’s character, John Clark’s, wife finds out he has been taking dance lessons secretly. He says “If I sometimes couldn’t tell you that I wasn’t happy it is because I didn’t want to hurt the person I treasure most in the world”.

Now, it probably isn’t surprising to you that I think John Clark was dealing with a horrible depression….and dancing was his anti-depressant.   Once his family found out, he was ashamed……not only of the sadness, but of the fact that the people he loved weren’t the ones he chose to help him through it.  The reason for this is that he had so much, he felt guilty that they weren’t enough to make him happy.

depression

Why I am I breaking down this Saturday afternoon matinée to you all? Well, I think it is a good way to explain why parents are sometimes the last ones to know that their child has been dealing with depression.  Suicide has become an epidemic in our country….especially for teenagers and young adults.  According to the CDC, approximately 4600 young people between the ages of 10-24 take their lives every year.  Last year, Ebola took 2 lives in our country and it was headline news…..people were talking about it….everywhere.  Why don’t we talk about the 4600 young people losing their lives?

There are so many people out there thinking “not my kid”.  Honestly, a lot of the teenagers that are attempting or following through with their suicide plans are kids that no body would expect to.  Honor society, athletes, class officers, club presidents…..no one is immune to depression.  It’s these kids I fear for the most, they are alone in their struggle.  So many times we hear about a young person taking their life and people around them say, I thought he was fine or I thought she was happy.  They kept their sadness hidden from the people they loved……why?  I think so many of them were like John Clark, afraid to tell anyone that, even with all of the good in their lives, they still aren’t happy.

My son is diagnosed with bipolar disorder.  In a way, that makes me one of the lucky parents.  I know what to look for in my son’s moods.  I know what changes in his temperament might mean.  I also make sure to talk to my son about his emotions on a regular basis.  In truth, in our house, we talk about emotions just as often as we have precautionary conversations about drugs, sex or social media.  Would I have included it in our regular conversation if he didn’t have a diagnosis? Probably not.  Nobody would have clued me in on the importance of mental health education to our kids.  Even once I had a child with a mental health diagnosis, I had no suggestions on how to talk to my son about his feelings.  I was handed a prescription and told to call if it didn’t help.  If I didn’t start doing research on my own as to how to effectively communicate with my son, I would probably have had a child that is one of the 4600.

We need to talk to our children……all of us…..and we need to start when they are young.  We need to let them know that sadness is a normal part of growing up, but sometimes it can get so bad that we have a hard time finding happiness again.  As they get older, we need to explain a little more in-depth about depression and how it can affect people.  Not only so they know for themselves, but so they can be aware of changes in their friends, too.  We need to let them know that we will listen without judgement and help them in any way we can.

Until we start talking to our kids about their emotional health, how can we expect them to talk to us? If they don’t start talking to us, how can we prevent next year’s 4600 deaths?

 

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Week of Hell……Feeling Scorched

holland

Last week I was introduced to an essay written almost 20 years ago that will resonate with parents of special needs kiddos for years to come.  It is titled Welcome to Holland and I thought I would share it with you:

WELCOME TO HOLLAND

by
Emily Perl Kingsley.

c1987 by Emily Perl Kingsley. All rights reserved

I am often asked to describe the experience of raising a child with a disability – to try to help people who have not shared that unique experience to understand it, to imagine how it would feel. It’s like this……

When you’re going to have a baby, it’s like planning a fabulous vacation trip – to Italy. You buy a bunch of guide books and make your wonderful plans. The Coliseum. The Michelangelo David. The gondolas in Venice. You may learn some handy phrases in Italian. It’s all very exciting.

After months of eager anticipation, the day finally arrives. You pack your bags and off you go. Several hours later, the plane lands. The stewardess comes in and says, “Welcome to Holland.”

“Holland?!?” you say. “What do you mean Holland?? I signed up for Italy! I’m supposed to be in Italy. All my life I’ve dreamed of going to Italy.”

But there’s been a change in the flight plan. They’ve landed in Holland and there you must stay.

The important thing is that they haven’t taken you to a horrible, disgusting, filthy place, full of pestilence, famine and disease. It’s just a different place.

So you must go out and buy new guide books. And you must learn a whole new language. And you will meet a whole new group of people you would never have met.

It’s just a different place. It’s slower-paced than Italy, less flashy than Italy. But after you’ve been there for a while and you catch your breath, you look around…. and you begin to notice that Holland has windmills….and Holland has tulips. Holland even has Rembrandts.

But everyone you know is busy coming and going from Italy… and they’re all bragging about what a wonderful time they had there. And for the rest of your life, you will say “Yes, that’s where I was supposed to go. That’s what I had planned.”

And the pain of that will never, ever, ever, ever go away… because the loss of that dream is a very very significant loss.

But… if you spend your life mourning the fact that you didn’t get to Italy, you may never be free to enjoy the very special, the very lovely things … about Holland.

********

It is a lovely essay and a lovely sentiment, but you know what? I would love to go to Holland!!!!! Lately I feel that my Italy trip was interrupted when a plane landed me right in the middle of the Sahara.  I keep seeing the image of what could be a happy and healthy future for my son, only to find that it was a freaking mirage. That nice long refreshing drink of water I thought I was going to have ended up as sand in my face…..and hair and eyes and shoes.  Then a wind storm kicks up and I am being pelted from every which way, like tiny bits of glass trying to eat away at my skin.  Even when the wind dies down, you are in the hot, unrelenting sun.  There is no relief, no oasis….but then you see the happy mirage again.  It is an endless cycle.

This week my son started his sophomore year of high school.  It has been a week of hell around here.  His school only has a 4 day week…..and he already missed 2 of them.  The anticipation and anxiety of school starting was more than he could take and Monday night he woke up having an anxiety attack……and then woke up Tuesday morning with one, as well.  Wednesday seemed to be fine, so I was surprised with his absolute reluctance to go this morning.  After about 3 hours of arguing with him, I gave up.  I know, it was a horrible parental move….but I just got to the point where I couldn’t argue any more.  I know how much he hates school, how it is like torture for him every day…..but I also know that he needs it to have any kind of future as a productive member of society.  We have tried home school, public school, a combo of online school and public school and now we are trying a small private school.  There is nowhere else to go…….we are out of options in our financial reach.   After all of our struggles over the past few years and his many threats of dropping out, for the first time I truly believed that he wouldn’t make it to the end of this journey.

I had to alter my idea of what success was for my son many years ago.  I also had to alter my idea of what I thought a successful parent looked like.  You know the idea you have when your child is born……they will grow up, be so much smarter than you, go on to college, have a great career and be a happy healthy adult……and you were the awesome, cool parent that got them there.  That idea changes when you have a child with a mental illness.  All of a sudden getting them through school without substance abuse, run-ins with the law or suicide is success….if they do well academically along the way, well, that’s just icing on the cake.

For some reason, even though school has been a challenge,  I always knew I would see my child in a cap and gown.  This week, for the first time ever, I have come to the realization that it probably won’t happen.  It was a huge blow to me.  I have been telling myself that if I could at least get him that far, I have done a decent job as a parent.  What does it mean if I can’t get him there? Was all of this fighting, with him and with the school system to ensure that he had the best education for nothing?  Where do we go from here?

So, I sit here in the Sahara.  Knowing that a rescue plane is not in the near future and just hoping that I remembered enough sun block because I burn easily.

sahara