Parenting is hard. I know that I don’t have to say that, it’s a repetitive statement in and of itself. But, let me reiterate anyway. Parenting is HARD. This past year has really tested my limits and made me question everything I thought that I may possibly know. Question every single thought that I may possibly be doing remotely okay at this and not completely, epically screwing up my kids.
Most days, I think I do okay. I believe deep down that I am a good mom that tries my best and still has bad days, but that my kids are cared for beyond just basic needs and that they know that they are loved.
To truly understand the monumental parenting leaps of this year, I’m going to have to shed a protective layer and bare some truths about myself. I do not do well in situations involving big emotions – I can feel what feels like a literal switch flip the second someone exposes very real, very intense emotions. Other people’s crying makes it worse. I have to consciously acknowledge this is happening and put forth a great deal of effort to come across as empathetic and understanding in a situation where all I want to do is RUN AS FAR AWAY AS FAST AS POSSIBLE. And it’s not that I don’t feel empathetic or understanding, that’s not it at all. I feel so deeply for people – but I am terrified that I am not going to say or do the right thing and I have this deeply ingrained co-dependency that makes me want to be able to fix everything for everyone and as an adult that has been through years of therapy, I also realize that isn’t possible. So I freeze and feel so immensely uncomfortable.
Now, as you can imagine, this isn’t ideal for relationships. Romantic relationships, friendships but ESPECIALLY as a parent. This year, my kids have had some GIGANTIC emotions with LOTS OF TEARS. We have dealt with suicidal ideations and self harm this year, depression and anxiety that are soul consuming. And as a parent, I had to do my best to put all of my own trauma aside to be not only present for my children during this time, but to advocate and fight for them like a fierce beast.
So when my son came to me with the fact that he had been self-harming and was having suicidal ideations, I did whatever I could to try to “fix” things for him. After bringing him to the hospital and being referred to an intensive outpatient program, we tried to face these issues head on. So there was the partial hospitalization program which referred us to intensive outpatient program that specialized on a specific diagnosis and then referred us to another intensive outpatient program which focused on yet another diagnosis. After going through those steps, individual therapy and medication management has continued. I pray that this year was the top of the summit and that we can continue to manage mental health for him and not be faced with such intense situations moving forward. I know that mental health is not cured and it does not just get better, it is a struggle throughout our lives and something we constantly have to monitor and work on. During this time, I am positive that I did not handle every single situation as best as I probably could have because of my own issues. There were times when I lost my temper because it was such a difficult situation and such new territory for not only him but for me. I felt like a failure that my son was so unhappy that he resorted to the means he did. Another layer peeled back, I self harmed when I was in high school, because my childhood was far from ideal, far from picturesque – if I have strived so hard to give him everything I always wanted in my childhood, why would he resort to the same thing? Again, I know that’s my trauma talking and self-blame, but as a mom, it’s the first place you go.
With all of this going on, internally it really felt like I was barely treading water and was going to lose it at any moment. But that’s not how it works when you’re a parent. You have to keep going – ALWAYS. And while I did my best, it didn’t feel like enough. When one child is struggling, it feels as though the attention that should be spread among all of the kids, is now focused on just the one. So when another child’s behavior started to become increasingly difficult to manage, I was sure that I would implode.
So when things finally started to feel like they were going in the right direction for my one kiddo, imagine my feelings of defeat when things progressively began getting worse for my youngest. He was having behavioral issues at school and at home. I was doing my due diligence though, reaching out to his primary, getting referrals for psychiatry, trying interventions and medication where suggested. Things weren’t getting better though. The exact opposite of that actually. They were going downhill on what felt like a combination avalanche, mudslide that lands in the center of a flaming pool of molten lava. Extreme mood swings. Violent outbursts. The things that he would say and do had me at the end of my rope. I had attempted to get interventions while he was still in school but because academically he wasn’t struggling, he didn’t qualify for “extra help.” The medications we tried didn’t do anything for him. We had experienced insomnia where he would be up for 24 hours at a time, outbursts where he was hitting, punching, kicking, spitting and biting, he would pee the bed intentionally and just cover it up – the list only continues and believe me when I say those are the milder things we dealt with.
I felt completely broken. So I drove him to the Wilder Foundation where they do walk-in mental health evaluations for kids. When I got there, I felt completely hopeless and all I wanted was for someone, anyone!, to say that they could help. The day that we showed up, they had a staff retreat and were going to be closing early… they apologized and offered to get intake paperwork started but told me I would have to come back. I broke down. I began crying uncontrollably at the front desk in front of everyone because I didn’t think I could take ONE MORE DAY doing this. Luckily, one of the supervisors saw the amount of emotional distress I was in and offered to speak with me. And she got us in for an appointment for the next week. And for three weeks in a row I told a woman I had never met every single thing about myself, Oliver and our family.
On week 3, we were given a diagnosis of anxiety with a preliminary diagnosis of autism spectrum disorder. Unfortunately, the wait for official testing for ASD is currently 8-9 months. Wilder has been a godsend though. They have referred us for OT to begin soon, therapy which we completed the intake appointment this afternoon and a case worker so we can hopefully get some extra assistance while we navigate these new waters. The therapist is already pushing for more testing with his new school. I feel like we finally have advocates working for us.
The therapist started to tell me that, while change won’t be immediate, she is here to help us get through this, no matter how long it takes. I told her, I don’t care how long it takes, and I have no expectations set for a timeline on when to expect change. I just want to feel hope. I want to feel hopeful that things are being faced head on and that while change won’t be here tomorrow, we have a team that is fighting with us to ensure that my kid has the best chance of success throughout his entire life and not just right now when things are tough.
Even after today – which was a very rough day for him, like sent home from school for some very high-intensity behaviors – I feel that hope. Wilder has given me that. No matter how hard we have to fight, I know that there are people finally listening and hearing us and willing to face this all head on with us. And that is an amazing feeling.
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