Mental Health is Not an Easy Trip
It isn’t often that I take a moment to reflect on life. However, today while driving my son around from place to place to find appropriate shoes for his new AFO leg braces, the two of us took stock in realizing that we generally don’t have that much time together alone. Though it was nice to be together, he mused that he was worried about his sister. Was she okay? What was she up to?
I thought it was odd. After all we had been through the last few months, he never seemed to notice when she was gone before. Yet, I knew this day was a little different.
Starting last year, my once bubbly, sweet 11-year-old daughter slowly drifted away from us. She became more and more secluded. She stopped working on homework. She took no interest in anything in life. I knew it was more than a phase. We had been down this dark tunnel before. She had suicidal ideation at the ripe, wise age of 8-years-old.
When I saw that we were headed back to a dark time, I let her therapists know. I thought I was on top of her manifestations of her depression. I noticed her isolation. I noticed her picking at her clothing. I certainly noticed the influx of snot smeared all over her walls, but I totally missed the fact that she was pulling out her eyelashes and eyebrows. I didn’t…
