My teen is excited and proud to be starting full-time as a commuter student at a local college. I wanted to share an article I wrote several years ago to illustrate how much can change in a relatively short time with the right supports, patience and hope:
When All the Other Teens Go Off to College
It happened again last night.
I went to the high school open house, and everyone asked where my oldest teen was attending college. Of course, they assumed that this former honors student who had taken advanced placement classes was away at college. I gave our family’s party line, “She’s taking a year off,” and again felt that familiar pain of loss, disappointment, shame, embarrassment, and of course, guilt for feeling these awful feelings.
My daughter was hospitalized a mere six months ago for her depression and anxiety. We are celebrating that fact that she is working a full-time job at a local fast-food store as an assistant manager. Somehow she managed to graduate from high school after missing four complete months of her senior year. She has stopped running away from home and engaging in other self-destructive behaviors. She goes to weekly therapy. She is being responsible with her car. She has come a long way.
But the open house brought all the feelings back.
I know I shouldn’t be feeling these “bad” emotions. I should be grateful for the improvement in her health and for the relative peace in our home. I do give thanks everyday that she is safe.
But the reality is that I also am feeling a multitude of mixed emotions, high and low, on a daily basis.
I admit it – I get embarrassed when people ask what my daughter is doing. I feel dishonest replying that my daughter is taking a year off, like it was a planned choice versus the only choice. The reality is that she wasn’t well enough to even consider applying to college. Our family spent college savings on medical expenses. We don’t know if she ever will be going away to college. We are living in uncertainty and in a world where there is a stigma associated with public acknowledgement of a mental health condition. So I don’t tell the truth to protect our privacy, and I feel ashamed.
But I have learned that I do need to be honest with one person — myself. I need to accept that I am feeling these emotions. Any time I feel like I “should” be doing something is a red flag that there is still an unaddressed issue lurking underneath the surface that I need to look at closely.
First of all, I remind myself that these are just emotions. They are not “bad” per se with all that associated personal judgment. There are good days and bad days on the road to recovery for both the young adult and the parent caregiver. Sometimes a casual question will trip these emotions. Knowing that this can happen and having a plan for dealing with it has helped me. I have my rehearsed response. And, I know sometimes I need to escape and just breathe, deal with my emotions and move on.
Having always been the “good girl” of the family, I feel a lot of self-judgment for being angry, disappointed, jealous and just plain sad. Nice people don’t have these emotions. I am learning to feel compassion for myself.
Rosalyn Carter in her book, Helping Someone with Mental Illness, wrote: “Families of the mentally ill feel a chronic sorrow, a never-ending grieving process for the lost potential of their ill child.” And the fact that this is basically hidden from relatives, friends, and colleagues just accentuates a family’s sense of shame and stigma.
For me, the process of acceptance of my teen’s mental health challenges involves letting go of a resistance to changing expectations. I am learning instead to focus on letting my expectations for my daughter be realistic as well as positive. She is only 18 — she still has time to learn to manage her condition and plan for her future.
So what does this mean on a day-to-day basis in terms of dealing with my wild, unruly emotions?
I focus on the big picture, what I genuinely want for her — which is for her to continue to gain self-confidence, self-esteem, independence, and responsibility. Her illness robbed her of energy and experiences that are part of natural adolescent growth and development. She needs more time. I practice enjoying today, not worrying about the future. I practice patience. I know that there are times to allow sadness. I tell the truth when I feel comfortable.
I continue to educate people about depression and anxiety and other brain disorders to reduce the stigma of mental illness, and I dream of the day our society will treat mental illness like any physical illness.
The open house did teach me that I felt out of integrity, so now I have a new prepared response for when people ask where my oldest is attending college. I say “she wasn’t ready to go away to college and she’s working.”
And that’s the truth.
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