Tuesday, February 17, 2015

Seeing Your Worst Self in Your Child

In my last blog post, I mentioned the normalcy of basic things related to parenthood. There are things we all go through as parents that are perhaps funny, perhaps mortifying, definitely life-altering. On a walk with my kids I was thinking of the person I was before they were born and who I am now. I know I'm way more patient in some areas and less so in others. I don't flinch (as much) at having to clean up someone else's vomit, poop, or other bodily fluids. I'm way less selfish (not to say I don't have my stash of dark chocolates that I'm hesitant to share). And while it would have been harder for me to advocate for myself pre-babies, I have no qualms about doing so for me or my kids now.

Overall, I know that these two little humans we are raising have changed my life in absolutely amazing ways.

Some days, that must become a mantra.

Over the last few months our family has been faced with challenges bigger than we have ever before had to deal with. In addition to my husband's father's slow decline due to dementia, and our best friends' battle with cancer, my own unexpected surgery, and the normal chaos that comes with the holidays, we've had to fight demons of a different sort altogether.

I have for much, if not all, of my life struggled with depression. When I was a child I didn't know how to be social with other kids and would get teased a lot so I came home crying more days than I can count. My mom was not one to question if this was normal, or if there could be some help for me. She fought my endless tears with spankings and other physical punishments. After many years of therapy and help from doctors I've gotten a pretty good hold on my sadness and anxieties and though they surface once in a while, it's manageable.

To have to deal with these feelings on your own is hard enough, but to see these feelings in your child is heartbreaking. You can't climb into your child's head and hold them and tell them everything will be all right when a monster has taken them over and you no longer see your baby looking through the eyes you know so well. You do all you can to help your child, but everyone just says it will all take time. Small changes are made, which we won't see the results of for weeks, but in the meantime, you are helpless. Your child - your whole family - is a victim of this invisible monster that contorts your child's face and makes it not their own. Your child's voice spouts words that would normally NEVER be said. You are physically and emotionally exhausted and feel like you're walking through a minefield. Which you are.

As a parent, I've punished myself in thinking it's my genes causing this pain in my child. It's so familiar to me - the feelings my child is experiencing, but they are feelings I've always hoped my children would never have to face. Thankfully, I've learned that my feelings largely come thanks to a chemical imbalance, not because I'm a horrible person (as I was taught to believe as a child). I know that that is what my child is experiencing and we are taking a very different approach to combatting the war in that little head.

To anyone out there going through this, know that you aren't alone. Mental health is just as important as physical health. As we've also learned, don't be afraid to be an advocate for your child. If a doc doesn't seem to be the right fit, there are plenty more out there who can help. Don't be afraid to push a little where your child's health is concerned.

For now, we celebrate the little victories. The week without any explosive behavior. The days where we can pull our child out of the darkness and feel almost normal for a while. Things are getting better, but it's like crawling through sand trying to get my child back to who I know he is.


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