She Is Not a Duck, Part 5
A Mother’s Journey into the world of Mental Health and Spectrum Disorder Challenges
She walks like a duck, talks like a duck, but she is not a duck.
Chapter 4 Knowledge is Power and Help Arrived
There’s something that transforms within a mom when her child is hurting.
My transformation rushed in while Sarah was hospitalized. Because she was admitted for inpatient care, the emotional noise in my head, my home, and my life was temporarily quieted. A door opened and a new passion took over with a vengeance.
There was a sense of peace knowing that she was in the hands of schooled, loving caregivers, and with specialized degrees. Though I wanted her home, I treasured the time of diminished distractions. She required more than just a mother’s love and I was confident she was getting quality assessments and treatments.
I felt relieved.
My life before her hospitalization was one of simultaneously running offense and defense. I was always on high alert looking for areas to prevent meltdowns and then at the ready to put out the fires that would crop up.
I would try to balance the needs of the other kids in addition to my focus on Sarah. I knew they all got robbed of a ‘best’ mom and it would nag at me. All I had to give, I did. But, I knew it wasn’t enough at times.
It’s an awful feeling when you know you’re not enough.
We had been approaching Sarah’s wellness upon need. Our family would not attend parties or functions based on her behavioral upheavals. For years, I knew people deemed me controlling when Sarah and I would stay home while the rest of the family gallivanted off to have fun.
It became hard to explain. No one could understand the story, our story, and her behaviors. I wanted to protect her from being judged. Labels were hard to remove once they were slapped on a child. I was worried they would attach like an octopus to her back and define her. That wasn’t going to happen on my watch.
Compassion was scant in our little world, from many people, regarding invisible disabilities. Mental health and autism awareness were still in the infancy stages.
More than a decade ago, the time was one when mental health concerns offered more shame and embarrassment than acceptance and care.
The societal jury either pointed fingers of blame, aimed at my mothering skills or stood firm in total denial that psychological challenges were even real.
It was a lonely road. People hid their curiosity behind smiling faces and would peek in secrecy. They would watch and whisper about us behind the scenes. No one, outside of a chosen few, was comfortable just asking what was going on or if we were okay. Avoidance was the preferred method of the masses. Did they think mental challenges were contagious?
I take responsibility for causing some of the confusion in even our own extended family. According to some, I was apparently the root of all of Sarah’s issues; her psychological needs were imagined by me. If I was cut off or condescended, while explaining the severity of Sarah’s eruptive behaviors, I would withdraw. I stopped explaining.
Semi-isolation had become the norm for the most trying years. Surface friendships would not only wane but also die off. It was just easier to stay underground and cherish the relationships that were known to be loyal, and trusted, by me.
And now, I had time to concentrate on areas that truly mattered. Sarah’s care took precedence over other people’s opinions. I wasted no time and shifted my focus with uninterrupted concentration.
I had a job to do and I was fired up.
Motivation was running through my veins.
Knowledge is power.
I wanted to soak up every bit of information I could to switch our method of care. She deserved an understanding approach. No longer satisfied with throwing band-aids on bullet wounds, I wanted to gain insight, new tools, and clarity. I wanted to create a new plan, moving forward, based on the professional information.
Yes, I took the bull by the horns, let him snort in my face, and forged ahead regardless.
I chose NAMI NJ as my support system. The National Alliance on Mental Health was a wealth of information and offered support groups for patients or family members. I immediately signed up for a 6-week program named Family to Family. Lead by a qualified instructor, an educational and therapeutic setting was a perfect combination for me.
I was nervous but also curious. I had no idea there were enough other suffering families out there to fill seats around a table.
Sarah was released after 5 days in psychiatric inpatient care. Follow up was immediate and her doctor informed us that she was diagnosed with:
Dysthymia:
Persistent depressive disorder, also called dysthymia (dis-THIE-me-uh), is a continuous long-term (chronic) form of depression. You may lose interest in normal daily activities, feel hopeless, lack productivity, and have low self-esteem and an overall feeling of inadequacy. These feelings last for years and may significantly interfere with your relationships, school, work, and daily activities.
Anxiety:
It’s possible to develop generalized anxiety disorder as a child or an adult. Generalized anxiety disorder has symptoms that are similar to panic disorder, obsessive-compulsive disorder and other types of anxiety, but they’re all different conditions.
In many cases, it occurs along with other anxiety or mood disorders. In most cases, generalized anxiety disorder improves with psychotherapy or medications.
ADHD:
ADHD is a chronic condition that affects millions of children and often continues into adulthood. ADHD includes a combination of persistent problems, such as difficulty sustaining attention, hyperactivity and impulsive behavior.
Children with ADHD may also struggle with low self-esteem, troubled relationships and poor performance in school.
Prescriptions were given with very specific dosages as well as times of day to administer them. Risperdone, as a mood stabilizer known to treat bipolar disorder, and Prozac for depression were added the original prescription, Metadate, to continue treatment for ADHD.
I became part nurse, part pharmacist, part mom, part wife, and part punching bag.
However, the cocktail of prescriptions was magical for Sarah.
She wanted to go out to dinner as a welcome home sort of celebration. We were all cautiously optimistic and all a bit guarded. Which way it would go was always in Sarah’s control. We were seated at a high-top table, elevated in the middle of the restaurant. The server took our order and asked if we wanted more drinks.
Sarah asked for more Coke and as the server walked away, Sarah threw her arm up in the air, gave it a whirl as she shouted, “And keep ’em comin’!”
And she laughed.
She laughed.
We laughed.
In all her comedic glory, her beautiful smile, and uproarious laughter, she was back.
For now.
We’d take it.
For now.
- Thank you for joining in on Part 5 of my series. We will continue to travel through the hallways of the psychiatric world, the school system, and our family dynamics. I look forward to sharing more and hope you will see that none of us are alone.