Silence

I have written this post in my head a million times over the last four months.  Maybe even longer, I really don't remember.  When I began writing about my daughter's mental illness, I wanted to share hope with my readers.  A few things happened after a while.  I denied the illness would continue for years to come.  I grew tired of explaining things to people in phone conversations and in person.  With this last one, I also grew tired of the unsolicited advice and unwanted comments about our parenting techniques and my daughter being spoiled.  I stopped writing.  The problem is that I need to write.  I need to share.  If I don't, I stuff all of the stress, anxiety, and negativity down inside me until it explodes into a physical illness for me.  My silence has not been a silence because of healing, but a silence of protecting myself from other people.  But now I have to break my silence.

Last April, I put my daughter in the hospital while I worked with my dear husband who was on a work trip.  A dear friend stood beside me the entire time, literally, while another was on the phone with me when I needed the extra moral support.  I chose not to tell a lot of people about this because I didn't need the questions, opinions, and frankly, the other garbage that people throw out at you when they have never lived this crisis.  (I used to be one of those people.  I get it.  But now that I do know the reality, I don't need the complications.)  We made it through this trauma to survive another day.  I held onto hope that high school would get better.  All of us looked forward to a new start.  Denial!

Mental illness is never cured.  I am reading a book right now which says that with metal illness there is only temporary recovery.  This means the illness is still there, but the sick person is able to use strategies to help themselves avoid or work through the anxiety and panic.  They can live a "normal" life.  (A dear friend of mine, in the past year, has shared with me her mental illness and I had no clue until then her daily struggles.  She is such a beacon of hope for me.)  A thirteen year old doesn’t learn all of this in two and a half years to face high school as a "normal" kid.  Writing all of this makes me feel like an idiot.  Logically I should have faced this.  Instead, I denied the illness.  Because of it, I had unrealistic expectations for the beginning of the school year.

Of course, we haven't stopped working towards a healthier life for my girl.  In May and June, we had her tested at Intermountain.  The doctor there was amazing.  She still sees her doctor of two and a half years.  She goes to an amazing therapist who prays with her and loves her like the most amazing grandfather/father figure.  During the summer, she rested as did I.  Our first defeat came in June when we were denied a transfer to a new high school.  She wanted a fresh start.  The school she had to stay with is trying.  They have been kind and compassionate.  We have asked for an IEP.  She has been on a 504 but needs the stronger program at this point.

We have entered a new world.  In high school, she can't miss all the school she did before.  At least, we have stressed about that.  Hopefully something can be done.  Already, she has missed two days.  I am not sure she will make it much this next week.  There are so many uncertainties.  We feel lost and confused, hurt and desperate.  And this doesn't include the stress of finances, military career at an older age, my physical disability, and normal life.  Yep, it was a bad ending to a good week.

As is typical, I am reading a book.  I have called Intermountain for more options of counseling for our girl and the rest of us.  We have another meeting set with the counselors.  I need to start asking questions.  What is school going to look like this year?  Do I get sent to jail for not forcing her to go?  How do I keep her from despairing to the point of cutting again?  How do I keep myself together?  How do I help my husband?  I think you all get the gist.

I don't write any of this to have the world feel sorry for us.  Everyone has their cross to bare.  I write because I am a writer.  Writers want to be heard, need to be heard.  I write so if the invisible internet can connect my post to others going through the same trials they will see they are not alone.  I write because I personally know some people out there that may give some encouragement because they have either been there or are in the trenches themselves.  I write to educate those who want the lesson to know how to help friends and family in need, not to judge, advice, or criticize.  And if you don't understand, research.  Don't ask the person going through it to explain.  Don't pester them with questions.  Their primary job is to take care of themselves, their child, and those living in the house with them.  Chances are they can't answer your questions and it just hurts them to have to try.  And, it pushes them to silence.  Instead, listen, encourage, and love.