Anonymous wrote:

Anonymous wrote:

Anonymous wrote:One of the first things that I was told when I dropped my kid off was that now it is time to take care of me and the rest of the family. At first it was hard, but honestly, the time they were away was so peaceful. Yes, I had to worry about money and aftercare plans and all of that. And, I had to travel to the program almost weekly, which meant a flight, a night in a crappy motel (which in some ways had its benefits because I had no responsibilities for that night) and a day off work. But, our days were just so peaceful. We really used the opportunity to heal. I no longer had to wonder what I was going to find when I walked in the house. I was no longer afraid that we would get hurt by my kid. I was no longer afraid of the phone ringing. I had four glorious months of planning my days around psych hospital visiting hours or having to run back to school after I got downtown to my office because of yet another crisis. We enjoyed Thanksgiving and Christmas without incident.

But, honestly, those days were short lived. There was four months and later another two months. And then they came home and there were more crises and more suicide attempts and more overdoses and more violence. Sending them for treatment was the break. But, I will never be the same as I was before mental illness hit our family and I don't think the rest of my family will either.

I’m so sorry PP. I hope this doesn’t sound wrong, but this was written beautifully.

Thank you for saying that. I really do love my son more than I ever imagined loving anyone. But it’s hard. It’s nice to hear something good about my writing about the difficult times.

You’re welcome

Agree with questioning everything you thought you knew….

I was a pretty relaxed parent—encouraged independence, wasn’t trying to socially engineer anything, etc. Now I’m pretty paranoid. For instance, it seems like plans have called through with friends a couple times. Are her friends ditching her? Will she be able to handle that? Or maybe they aren’t ditching her a d she’s being paranoid? Maybe they’re ditching her because she’s acting super weird because her meds aren’t right? Should I get her less involved in things? More involved i things? Is she hiding things from me? Normal teen things, or important things? Am I too involved in all this? Not involved enough? Should I. E checking her room? Checking her computer?
I’ve totally lost faith in myself as a parent.

My kids were quite easy growing up until we discovered my DD’s bulimia which was completely and totally shocking. She seemed to be a normal, happy girl. I immediately questioned everything I thought I knew and I was shocked that she hid it from me. I could never trust her again because she flat out lied about it until finally admitting it in front of me with the therapist I dragged her to. That was almost three years ago and we’ve since dealt with depression and anxiety but thankfully the bulimia and most of the disordered eating has stopped.

It’s life changing and you question everything you thought you knew.

Hugs to all of you dealing with what sounds like much tougher situations.

Anonymous wrote:

Anonymous wrote:One of the first things that I was told when I dropped my kid off was that now it is time to take care of me and the rest of the family. At first it was hard, but honestly, the time they were away was so peaceful. Yes, I had to worry about money and aftercare plans and all of that. And, I had to travel to the program almost weekly, which meant a flight, a night in a crappy motel (which in some ways had its benefits because I had no responsibilities for that night) and a day off work. But, our days were just so peaceful. We really used the opportunity to heal. I no longer had to wonder what I was going to find when I walked in the house. I was no longer afraid that we would get hurt by my kid. I was no longer afraid of the phone ringing. I had four glorious months of planning my days around psych hospital visiting hours or having to run back to school after I got downtown to my office because of yet another crisis. We enjoyed Thanksgiving and Christmas without incident.

But, honestly, those days were short lived. There was four months and later another two months. And then they came home and there were more crises and more suicide attempts and more overdoses and more violence. Sending them for treatment was the break. But, I will never be the same as I was before mental illness hit our family and I don't think the rest of my family will either.

I’m so sorry PP. I hope this doesn’t sound wrong, but this was written beautifully.

Thank you for saying that. I really do love my son more than I ever imagined loving anyone. But it’s hard. It’s nice to hear something good about my writing about the difficult times.

My experience has been a little different than the above cases, but has also been incredibly difficult. My son had a slow descent into crisis starting when he was very young, and has always had major behavior problems at home. Because there were never any issues at school, I was told by everyone that the behavior issues at home were my fault.

We finally (just before the pandemic started) got a therapist who raised the possibility of ASD with us, so we started the process of finding an evaluator and then COVID started and we lost our therapist - because my son refused to engage in telemedicine- and we entered complete and total chaos soon after.

By June 2020 we had the first hospital stay which was awful (for suicidal ideation and unsafe behavior at home). A month later we’re into #2. By the end of hospital stay #2 we had medication that brought the kid back from crisis and he was starting to stabilize.

We got a diagnosis from comprehensive neuropsych testing in September, and the initial meds stopped working by October and we started descending into chaos again.

Hospital stay #3 was in January (I had a miscarriage during it, obviously not my sons fault just bad timing), then hospital stay #4 was in March.

By the time the fourth hospital stay ended we were FINALLY working with a family therapist who was able to really help us start trying to put the pieces back together.

Because of how late my child’s diagnoses came (ASD and Bipolar), I’m still dealing with major burnout - we had almost 12 years of major behavior issues before the diagnosis that I was blamed for - and I’m still struggling with the effects of the crisis. Life is getting better though. My son is stable. We now, for the first time in his life, have had 3+ months of more good days than bad.

Making the decision to put my son in the hospital (each stay was 2 weeks) was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. And because it was during COVID visiting was limited, and I had to do the admissions all alone. My husband waited in the car outside, but he wasn’t able to be there (the 4th time I cried and the nurse was incredibly kind and let him come in with me because I was so frazzled and really needed his support).

The hospital was hard, but also was the best thing because it was so desperately needed, and it unlocked the care my son needs to do well and be successful at home and school.

Anonymous wrote:One of the first things that I was told when I dropped my kid off was that now it is time to take care of me and the rest of the family. At first it was hard, but honestly, the time they were away was so peaceful. Yes, I had to worry about money and aftercare plans and all of that. And, I had to travel to the program almost weekly, which meant a flight, a night in a crappy motel (which in some ways had its benefits because I had no responsibilities for that night) and a day off work. But, our days were just so peaceful. We really used the opportunity to heal. I no longer had to wonder what I was going to find when I walked in the house. I was no longer afraid that we would get hurt by my kid. I was no longer afraid of the phone ringing. I had four glorious months of planning my days around psych hospital visiting hours or having to run back to school after I got downtown to my office because of yet another crisis. We enjoyed Thanksgiving and Christmas without incident.

But, honestly, those days were short lived. There was four months and later another two months. And then they came home and there were more crises and more suicide attempts and more overdoses and more violence. Sending them for treatment was the break. But, I will never be the same as I was before mental illness hit our family and I don't think the rest of my family will either.

I’m so sorry PP. I hope this doesn’t sound wrong, but this was written beautifully.

To all of you — I am in the same boat — and it is so hard. Sending compassion.

Anonymous wrote:Our crisis wasn’t nearly as intense as PPs above (or involve a residential program), but even so, it’s placed my whole identity as a parent in the “before” and “after.” I was a relaxed and happy parent. My DH was the worrier in the family - not me. And even though our kid is doing so, so very well, I find I just can’t relax. I worry all the time. If I don’t hear back from my kid in a timely manner, I worry. Kid is older now so I can’t know location and choices all the time. Did kid go to class? What did they do out with friends? No recent reason not to trust, but my mind goes in dark places much, much faster.

There have been some good things - I’ve changed my expectations of my kids. I verbalize much more that their mental well-being is a major, major priority for me as a parent and that I will support them in whatever journey their well-being looks like (college, no college, switch schools, whatever). I think iI *thought* they knew that before - but it’s very explicit in our house now.

But my journey as a parent over the past say 2 years doesn’t look what it looked like 2 years and a day ago. I got yanked out of my “plan” rather abruptly.

I could have written this post. Still feeling the aftershocks —not sure the hyper vigilance will ever go away but I’m working with a therapist to try to better deal with the underlying anxiety

It’s been absolutely awful. My health has declined because my nervous system is always in fight or flight mode. My friendships are weaker - no one can truly understand what we are going through, and only a few try. I don’t always have the energy to be a good friend. And my younger child has her own trauma now from living in a home with a screaming sibling.

There was very little long-term planning I could do because I was constantly dealing with how to tackle the crises today. There were family members who encouraged to leave my job so I could focus on my family. However, I desperately needed my job for all the additional financial burden (out of network providers, etc.). It also change my life in that I felt 100% responsible for fixing everything with my child. I have now learnt to push for more services in IEP, etc. Things are stable for now but the anxiety is still there about when the next crises arrives. It's a very difficult way to live.

Why are you asking?

Our crisis wasn’t nearly as intense as PPs above (or involve a residential program), but even so, it’s placed my whole identity as a parent in the “before” and “after.” I was a relaxed and happy parent. My DH was the worrier in the family - not me. And even though our kid is doing so, so very well, I find I just can’t relax. I worry all the time. If I don’t hear back from my kid in a timely manner, I worry. Kid is older now so I can’t know location and choices all the time. Did kid go to class? What did they do out with friends? No recent reason not to trust, but my mind goes in dark places much, much faster.

There have been some good things - I’ve changed my expectations of my kids. I verbalize much more that their mental well-being is a major, major priority for me as a parent and that I will support them in whatever journey their well-being looks like (college, no college, switch schools, whatever). I think iI *thought* they knew that before - but it’s very explicit in our house now.

But my journey as a parent over the past say 2 years doesn’t look what it looked like 2 years and a day ago. I got yanked out of my “plan” rather abruptly.

One of the first things that I was told when I dropped my kid off was that now it is time to take care of me and the rest of the family. At first it was hard, but honestly, the time they were away was so peaceful. Yes, I had to worry about money and aftercare plans and all of that. And, I had to travel to the program almost weekly, which meant a flight, a night in a crappy motel (which in some ways had its benefits because I had no responsibilities for that night) and a day off work. But, our days were just so peaceful. We really used the opportunity to heal. I no longer had to wonder what I was going to find when I walked in the house. I was no longer afraid that we would get hurt by my kid. I was no longer afraid of the phone ringing. I had four glorious months of planning my days around psych hospital visiting hours or having to run back to school after I got downtown to my office because of yet another crisis. We enjoyed Thanksgiving and Christmas without incident.

But, honestly, those days were short lived. There was four months and later another two months. And then they came home and there were more crises and more suicide attempts and more overdoses and more violence. Sending them for treatment was the break. But, I will never be the same as I was before mental illness hit our family and I don't think the rest of my family will either.

Seriously? It massively affected every moment of our lives. We were sick with worry and stress, overwhelmed with appointments, had to rearrange our entire lives to ensure DC was never, ever alone. The cost of residential care was enormous. It was terrible.

If you had or have a teen with a serious life-threatening mental health issue (ED or suicide ideation, etc) to the point they had to be sent away from home for treatment, how much did it change or affect your daily life? Life in general?