New year, new beginnings

new yearWe recently said goodbye to Nora’s CAMHS* counsellor. This wonderful woman first met us when Nora was at her worst.

She was no longer speaking, had stopped eating and wasn’t able to do many of the normal day to day tasks most of us take for granted. She was self-harming and suicidal. She had been hospitalised on several occasions, and was assessed by CAMHS every time she ended up in hospital.

Despite the well-documented stories of how difficult it can be to access children’s mental health services, this wasn’t our experience. From the outset, CAMHS were available and willing to help Nora.

However, as we were already paying for Nora to be treated privately, we had to make a choice: stay with the private service or move to CAMHS. Initially, we chose to stay within the private sector.

ambulance.jpgWhat changed our mind? A number of factors, including an afternoon of confusion following one of Nora’s terrible ‘meltdowns’. Normally, I was able to manage these episodes. On this day, things got so bad I ended up dialling emergency services, who sent an ambulance to the house. The paramedics immediately decided that Nora needed to be hospitalised. There was just one problem…

Because Nora was being treated privately, the paramedics didn’t know what hospital Nora should be taken to. They called our nearest NHS hospital, who told them Nora needed to be taken to the private hospital where she was being treated as an outpatient. But when I called the private hospital, they told me they couldn’t see her as it was an emergency and they didn’t deal with emergencies.

Several phone calls later, we ended up at an NHS hospital in a nearby town. We stayed there for several nights, where Nora was – once more – assessed by CAMHS. It was at this point that we decided to switch from the private sector to the NHS.

In retrospect, I’m pretty sure this decision saved Nora’s life.

The care we’ve had under CAMHS has been second-to-none. During the worst of Nora’s illness, we had mental health workers calling to our house daily, providing much-needed support. There were people I could call, twenty-four hours a day, when I was worried about my daughter. We had a team of caring, dedicated people, all doing their best to keep my daughter alive.

This was very different to the private sector where I had one phone number for one psychiatrist. In all the time we were under her care, she never once returned any of my phone calls.

Since that first meeting with our CAMHS counsellor, Nora’s recovery has been remarkable. This is largely thanks to her dedicated CAMHS carers, who do one of the most important jobs there is.

Lack of access to children’s mental health services has been widely document. I’ve blogged about it here previously. Understandably, parents who cannot get help for their children feel angry and frustrated.

These parents are right to be angry. In the UK today, three in four children with a diagnosable mental health disorder do not get access to the support they need. For those lucky few who do get allocated a service, the average waiting time is almost two months (and far longer in some parts of the country).

But we can’t blame CAMHS workers for the woeful state of children’s mental health services. Instead, the blame lies with the people making decisions around how public funds should be allocated.

Today in the UK, only 0.7% of the NHS budget is spent on children’s mental health. Without adequate funding and resources, CAMHS are simply unable to support the growing number of children and adolescents being referred to them.

young minds.jpgIf you care about children’s mental health, and you agree our government needs to do more to support essential mental health services, now is the time to act. Lobby your local MP or sign the Young Minds’ petition for a new era for young people’s mental health.

Let’s not stop telling our elected politicians they need to do more to prioritise the mental health and wellbeing of future generations.

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*CAMHS stands for Children and Adolescent Mental Health services

 

 

A diary of depression

girl on beachThis time last year, Nora’s illness was only beginning. We had no idea how bad things would become. We never could have imagined that our eleven-year-old daughter would reach a point where she was so ill she wanted to die.

For some time, I’ve wanted to write about how Nora’s illness progressed, but I’ve never been able to get the words down. It’s always been too painful.

But…I want other parents – who are going through something similar – to know that they’re not alone.

So, I’ve finally written something. I hope it helps.

Month one

Nora’s anxiety has become unmanageable. The only way I can get her into school if we go for long walks beforehand. This means getting up early and walking for up to two hours before school.

I know that Nora’s already in a dark place, and she needs help. Through our GP, we’ve got a referral for a private consultation with a psychiatrist. Apparently, Nora isn’t ill enough for a CAMHS referral.

Month two

The psychiatrist thinks Nora may be suffering from depression, although this condition is – apparently – extremely rare with children as young as Nora (she is eleven).

Because of Nora’s age, the psychiatrist rules out anti-depressants, and recommends a ten-week course of CBT counselling. My husband and I are relieved. It seems inconceivable to medicate our eleven-year-old daughter with anti-depressants.

Month three

The CBT sessions aren’t helping. Nora continues to deteriorate and I suspect the counsellor doesn’t really know how best to treat her.

Nora’s school have suggested that trying – and failing – to keep Nora in school is counter-productive. The counsellor disagrees and thinks we should keep sending her in.

We take the school’s advice, because it feels like the right thing to do. Nora stops going to school.

By now, Nora is self-harming and suicidal. More than once, we’ve ended up in hospital, where we spend nights on ‘suicide watch’. Nora undergoes several psychiatric evaluations. These confirm what we now know: Nora is suffering a severe depressive episode.

Nora’s psychiatrist prescribes anti-depressants. We are relieved. It’s clear Nora needs more than weekly counselling sessions to get her better.

girlMonth four

Nora has stopped speaking. Completely. The only time I hear her voice is during her terrible meltdowns, when the weight of what she is enduring simply becomes too much.  These happen several times a day.

Following one particularly bad episode, we end up back in hospital. We are given a private room, because Nora’s meltdowns are so upsetting to the other children on the ward.

For the third time, Nora is assessed by CAMHS, who tell us they can’t treat Nora while she’s being seen privately.

We have to make a choice. The psychiatrist’s secretary calls me and tells me Nora will get much better treatment under CAMHS. I take her advice and we end the private treatment.

Month five

We are now under the care of CAMHS. We now have a team of people looking after us. There are people I can phone at any time of the day and night. Mental health professionals visit us at home several times a week. We have a new psychiatrist and a brilliant counsellor.

Time and again, these professionals tell me they have never encountered a child with symptoms as severe as Nora’s. This is frightening, but also oddly reassuring because I know she is – indeed – very, very ill.

This month is Nora’s birthday. Her friends come to visit with presents. She can’t speak to them, but they all give her hugs and I’m glad they’ve come. They cry, because they haven’t seen her since she fell ill.

She is pale, gaunt and silent. She has lost so much weight, her friends look like giants beside her.

Month six

Nora’s CAMHS team tell me they are ‘flummoxed’ and simply don’t know how to treat her. If they cannot come up with a plan soon, the next step will be to admit her to a psychiatric unit. This is a specialised unit for teenagers with severe mental health problems. Typically, children in this unit are aged from fourteen to eighteen. Nora is twelve.

We are told Nora will have to be fed through a tube if we cannot get her to eat.

Month seven

We have a care plan! It’s pretty basic but it feels like a huge step forward. It involves Nora doing things like getting out of bed by herself, eating regularly, getting dressed and getting fresh air each day.

Nora doesn’t think she will be able to do any of these things. She locks herself in the bathroom and tries to cut her wrists. Luckily, with the help of a neighbour, I’m able to knock the door down before she cuts herself too badly.

Although this is awful, it’s also a turning point. Gradually, we see tiny signs of improvement. And then something wonderful happens. Nora starts speaking again. Whispers at first, just a few words every now and then.

But every single word is precious. Over the course of her illness, I’d forgotten what her voice sounded like; I would watch videos I’d recorded before she fell ill, simply so I could hear her speaking.

Today (one year since the beginning of Nora’s illness)

Nora is speaking, eating, exercising and engaging with life. She sees her friends. She goes to the gym and goes for long runs most days. She writes poetry, and takes acting classes. She is rehearsing for the lead role in a play.

We don’t know what the future will hold but, then again, none of us know that.

girls danding

Make a real difference this Christmas

black and white woman girl sitting
Photo by Gratisography on Pexels.com

Four months ago today, I wrote the Nora’s story page of this site.

Re-reading this now, it seems extraordinary to think how ill Nora was, and how rapidly she is recovering.

Four months ago, my beautiful daughter was in the grip of a crippling depression. She had stopped speaking (she was completely mute for several months), she was unable to get out of bed or get dressed without help, and she had lost so much weight we thought she’d have to be fed through a tube.

Nora’s anguish was so unbearable she didn’t want to continue living. More than once, she was admitted to hospital after serious suicide attempts.

It was a terrible time for our family but, even during the worst of it, we never stopped believing Nora would get better.

Four months on, and Nora’s recovery has been nothing short of miraculous. She is no longer suicidal or self-harming. The symptoms of her psycho-motor retardation are gone. She is speaking again, having fun and engaging with life.

Since I started this blog, I’ve met so many parents taking care of children with mental health problems. Parents, like me, who are struggling to deal with the challenges of supporting a child with a mental illness. Parents who desperately need help that simply isn’t available.

It’s no secret that the lack of resourcing and funding for children’s mental health in the UK is disgraceful. This is something I’ve blogged about previously, and it’s a topic I’m sure I’ll come back to again.

The problem isn’t just with children’s mental health, either. One in four people in the UK are reportedly suffering from some form of mental illness. Yet, all too often, these people are not getting the help they need.

It’s left to mental health charities to fill the gaps in mental health provision. Yet these charities, too, are stretched to their limits.

That’s why I am asking all readers of this blog to support this year’s Telegraph Christmas Charity appeal, which is raising much-needed funds for three mental health charities:

  • Changing Faces – which provides advice and support for people with a visible difference through counselling, networks and skin camouflage services.
  • Young Minds – a charity that offers a vital lifeline to thousands of parents and carers to prevent young people from coming to harm.
  • The Fire Fighters charity – which offers psychological support to firefighters in the wake of major incidents.

You may not have suffered mental health problems yourself, but I guarantee you know someone who has. Mental health charities offer an essential service to families and individuals who desperately need help.

Please help these charities to carry on doing the great work they do.

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What does ‘better’ look like?

girl on beachWhen people ask how Nora is doing, I reply that she’s not ‘better’, but she’s ‘getting better’. I suspect she will be ‘getting better’ for the rest of her life. Why? Because mental illness isn’t something that goes away and never comes back.

For Nora, and for those who love her, the threat of another depressive episode will be ever-present. Because she was so ill, at such a young age, my daughter will always be vulnerable to mental health problems.

That’s not to say her recovery hasn’t been remarkable. Less than five months ago, I described the symptoms of her illness under the Nora’s story section of this site. When I think back to those terrible months, I know we’re lucky that she has progressed so far in such a short time.

I remember the stages of Nora’s recovery as a series of first. The first time she spoke again. The first time she was able to get out of bed and come down stairs without help. The first time she wanted to listen to music (something she has always loved and which stopped completely during the worst of her illness). The first time she smiled.

So many of these moments brought tears of joy. None more so than the afternoon Nora decided to go into school to visit her friends.

Before her illness, Nora had been a popular, fun loving girl with a wide circle of friends. When she became ill, she isolated herself from all her friends. She felt so terrible, she simply didn’t want to be with anyone.

That afternoon, we drove to the school, got out of the car and waited at the gates for Nora’s friends to emerge. Nora was nervous. I was petrified, worrying what it would do to her if she found this all too much and it had a negative impact on her recovery.

As it turned out, neither of us needed to worry. A few minutes after the final bell rang, Nora’s friends started coming out. One or two of them saw Nora waiting for them and screamed her name. The others looked around to see what the fuss was about and, within seconds, Nora disappeared into a group of girls who were all hugging her, shouting over each other to tell her their news, and bringing her right back into their midst.

Nora still has bad moments and days that are worse than others. When things are tough, I remember that afternoon in the sunshine – watching Nora surrounded by her friends, laughing and smiling and enjoying the simple pleasure of catching up with people she loves.

And I tell myself there are many more of those moments to come.

girls danding

 

Causes of mental illness?

depressed girlIt’s almost a year since Nora’s illness started to manifest itself. Since then, many people – some who’ve never met my daughter – have offered their opinions on what might have ‘caused’ her catastrophic mental breakdown.

I’ve blogged before about people’s need to find reasons for mental illness. The problem is, mental health is a complicated business and trying to identify the causes of mental health problems is a tricky business.

Having lived through her illness with Nora, I’d like to think I’m better placed than most to understand why she became so terrible ill. I know we may never fully understand what triggered her illness, but we understand a hell of a lot more than we did a year ago.

I believe Nora’s illness was caused by a combination of:

  • Escalating anxiety, triggered by several factors including undiagnosed dyslexia and high emotional intelligence which makes her overly sensitive to other people’s feelings
  • Hormones
  • The challenges all young people face finding quiet moments in a world that never switches off
  • A genetic predisposition to mental illness

All too often, I’ve seen people wriggle uncomfortably when I mention this last one – a genetic predisposition. People don’t like to think of mental illness as something that can’t be ‘controlled’, but the truth is, mental illness – like all other illnesses – can strike anyone, at any time.

Yes, we can adopt ways of living that can build resilience and reduce our vulnerability to mental health problems, but the best efforts in the world won’t always make us immune.

In Nora’s case, she was a confident, happy, popular girl before she fell ill. She wasn’t being bullied, she wasn’t being socially excluded and – I’d like to think – she was part of a loving family.

But like I said, it’s complicated. Last week in the supermarket, a woman I barely knew told me my daughter’s illness was caused by a combination of Wifi signals in the air and the additives in processed food. I disagreed with her at the time, but what do I know? Maybe she’s onto something…

wifiSo, in the spirit of openness and sharing, here are some of the ‘reasons’ well-meaning people have put forward over the last year to ‘explain’ my daughter’s illness:

  • Wifi signals
  • Cyber bulling
  • Other forms of bullying
  • Lack of exercise (Nora has always been fit and active but, again, what do I know?)
  • Food allergies/intolerances
  • Social media
  • Undiagnosed autism

social mediaBefore I finish, a note on social media. All of us – adults and children – struggle to find peace in today’s world. The constant access to everything – emails, social media, internet – is exhausting.

As a society, we simply aren’t doing enough to help our children navigate this new world they’re growing up in. We need to find ways to help children switch off and have down time. However, to make a sweeping statement that ‘social media causes mental illness’ is over simplifying a far more complicated situation.

In our house – as a direct result of Nora’s illness – we have started switching off our Wifi for two hours every night, and no one is allowed any screen time, either, during these two hours. Scary, huh?

I don’t know if this will help my kids find moments of silence in today’s busy world, but I hope it might do.

family

Things I wish I’d known

girlOver the last year, I’ve learned a huge amount about mental illness in general, and childhood depression in particular. I’m not an expert, but I know a hell of a lot more than I did before my daughter’s illness.

In a recent post, I listed the top five things I’ve learned about supporting a child with depression.

Today is World Mental Health Day, which aims to raise awareness of mental health issues around the world.

So, to mark World Mental Health Day, I’ve decided to share the five things I wish I’d known earlier about mental illness.

Depression is a terrible illness

Before Nora fell ill, my knowledge of depression was limited. I knew it was an illness caused by a chemical imbalance in the brain. I vaguely understood that depressed people ‘felt down’ and ‘lacked energy’ and sometimes needed medication to help get their lives back on track.

I had no idea it could be a life-threatening illness that, in extreme cases, literally sucks the life out of its victims.

I hadn’t heard about psycho-motor retardation, a terrible depression-related condition that slows down your mind and body, making even the simplest thoughts or movements seem impossible.

At her worst, Nora lost the ability to speak. But she was always able to communicate, using pen and paper to tell me what she was experiencing. This post about depression, captures how she described the illness.

Children with depression hear voices

Did you know this? I sure as hell didn’t.

By the time Nora told me she was hearing voices, she was already very ill. We didn’t know what was happening, or why she’d got ill so quickly.

Like, I suspect, many parents who don’t know much about mental illness, I assumed hearing voices was a ‘very bad thing indeed’. Turns out it’s not half as bad as I imagined.

Of course, it’s very scary for the child who is hearing the voices. But, according to Nora’s psychiatrist, 90% of the children she sees hear voices at some point during their illness.

Anti-depressants save lives

I’ve banged on at length about this topic, so I won’t go on about it again here.

I know some people have concerns about giving anti-depressants to children. At one stage, I might have been one of those parents. I’m not now.

It’s okay to talk about suicide

What parent wants to discuss suicide with their eleven-year-old child? Not me, that’s for sure. Or so I thought until the first time Nora tried to take her own life. Since then, I’ve learned a lot about what you should – and shouldn’t – do when your child has suicidal thoughts.

Again, suicide is something I’ve spoken about in earlier posts, if you want to know about  what I’ve learned.

The most important thing to know is this: if your child tells you they wish they were dead, take them seriously. Speak to them; find out exactly what they’re thinking. Don’t be afraid to ask questions.

Being open – and pragmatic – about suicidal thoughts might just save your child’s life.

You’re stronger than you think you are

As the wise man, Kevin Bacon once said, you’re only ever as happy as your least happy child.

Like most parents, I’ve always assumed I would simply fall apart if something terrible happened to one of my children. In fact, this didn’t happen (well, it hasn’t happened so far…).

Yes, it’s been a terrible year. Over a few months, we watched our daughter change from a happy, confident, cheeky girl to someone who was so ill she was no longer able to speak or dress herself or do any of the basic tasks we take for granted.

We didn’t understand what was happening to our child. And we weren’t alone. The mental health experts working with Nora were also at a loss. We were repeatedly told they had never encountered a child with such severe symptoms. She was so ill, it took a team of mental health experts two months to agree the best way to treat her.

It was the worst of times for our family. But, somehow, we got through it. As Nora gets better, we are stronger as a family than we’ve ever been.

For that, and so much else, I am immensely grateful.

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Five things I’ve learned

lonely boyI’ve been slightly overwhelmed recently by the number of people I’ve met – online and in person – caring for someone with mental health problems.

These conversations have made me realise that I know quite a bit more about anxiety and depression than I did nine months ago, when Nora first became ill.

So, today’s blog looks at five important things I’ve learned about supporting a child with anxiety or depression.

Don’t wait to get help

This may seem obvious, but it’s not always. As parents, our first instinct  is to protect our children. We don’t want them to be ill.

Sometimes, when they start self-harming, stop eating or tell you they want to die, we don’t take this seriously. We tell them to stop self-harming. We sanction them for not eating properly. We tell them they don’t really want to die.

We try to address the problem with logic. But mental health problems aren’t logical.

Self-harming, suicidal thoughts, refusing to go to school, problems eating and sleeping… these are all signs your child needs help.

Educate yourself

This is important. No matter what support you’re getting from CAMHS or other mental health services, you – and you alone – will be the person spending most time with your sick child.

When Nora first fell ill, I believed I could ‘fix’ her through the sheer strength of my love and my determination that she would be well again. I approached her illness with the logical, problem-solving approach I use to tackle most of life’s problems.

Of course, unconditional love is hugely important. Your child needs to know you love them, no matter what. But they also need to know that you understand enough about their illness to help them get them through this dark and difficult time.

The more you learn about your child’s condition, the better placed you’ll be to give them the help they need.

If you’re unsure where to start, take a look at the website for mental health charity Young Minds. They have a wealth of resources, as well as a Parents Helpline you can call for help and advice.

You can also check out the resources section of this blog  for books and online material I’ve found most useful.

tabletsAnti-depressants aren’t always ‘a bad thing’

Nora has been taking Fluoxetine for six months now. She’ll need to continue taking the medication for a further six months, at least. Anti-depressants saved Nora’s life. We wouldn’t be where we are today without it.

I know that anti-depressants aren’t right for everyone. Finding the right medication, at the right dosage, takes time. And all the time you’re playing around with different levels and types of medication, you are acutely aware that you’re giving your child a drug that has horrific side effects.

In our case, persistence paid off. Once we got the medication right, Nora’s recovery was nothing short of miraculous.

Of course, medication alone isn’t enough. In Nora’s case, her recovery is down to a combination of medication, a counsellor who understands her complex issues, and a loving, supportive family.

If a psychiatrist prescribes anti-depressants for your child, that’s because they believe medication is your child’s best hope of recovery right now. You should listen to what the psychiatrist is telling you. It may be, that you try medication and find it doesn’t work. On the other hand, it might just save your child’s life.

Recovery takes time

Nora had been taking anti-depressants for about eight weeks before we saw the first early signs of improvement. At first, the changes were tiny. She started responding when I hugged her, putting her arms on mine for a moment before dropping them again. She started sleeping again. And then, one morning, a miracle happened – she got out of bed and came downstairs without anyone helping her.

Of course, the next morning – and others after that – she needed help again. But there were also many more mornings when she was able to do it alone. And since then, things have continued to improve.

But…

It’s taken nine months to get this far, and she’s still not ‘better’. She hasn’t gone back to school, she still has terrible meltdowns on a regular basis, and she struggles to do many of the day to day tasks she used to take for granted.

The key thing, however, is this: she’s getting better. Your child will too. Just don’t expect it to happen overnight.

It’s no one’s ‘fault’ your child is ill

We all know that mental illness can be triggered by traumatic events in a person’s life. But often people fall ill and there’s no obvious reason why.

If you’ve been a relatively okay parent, if your child’s life up to this point has been pretty uneventful, then the chances are this illness would have happened to them sooner or later.

It’s hard not to blame yourself when your child’s behaviour suddenly changes. Sometimes, it’s also hard not to blame your child.

The line between ‘bad behaviour’ and ‘behaviour caused by anxiety or depression’ is blurred, at best. How can parents know a child’s bad behaviour is deliberate and when it’s not? The simple answer is, we can’t.

But, we should remember this: when a child has anxiety or depression, they’re often unable to help the way they’re behaving.

It’s not your fault your child is ill. It’s not your fault their behaviour is worrying and disruptive. And it’s not their fault, either.

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Mental health and education

Rant alert: if you’d rather not listen to me having a good old rant, stop reading now.

classroomWhen your child is too ill to go to school, your local authority is obliged to offer you alternative access to education. In Nora’s case, she gets ten hours of online learning each week, and two one-to-one hour-long sessions with a tutor .

Ten hours of online learning probably doesn’t sound like a lot, but it’s a challenge for Nora. She is severely dyslexic so trying to concentrate on a screen-based lesson for two consecutive hours is exhausting. And she is still recovering from a debilitating illness, which means she gets tired very easily.

The pressure of having to log on for two hours a day has added to her general anxiety. Clearly, this isn’t ideal. Her CAMHS counsellor has told us that putting too much pressure on Nora at this stage could be detrimental to her recovery.

So, I contacted the learning provider. Our conversation went like this:

Learning Provider (LP): She really should try to log on to every class.

Me: Well, CAMHS have strongly advised this isn’t a good idea and I need to ease her back into learning slowly.

LP (slightly dismissive): Oh, CAMHS always say that.

Me: Really? Why?

LP: They only care about the child’s mental health.

Me: Um…

That was yesterday. I’m still speechless. Surely Nora’s mental health is all that matters?

To add insult to injury, I’ve since found out that Nora’s usual English class has been cancelled for the next two weeks and she will have to join an older class. I only realised this when we tried to access her usual class and it wasn’t available. When I questioned why this was, the provider told me that Nora’s English teacher is on jury service so Nora’s class will have to join an older class for the next two weeks.

This morning, I emailed the provider to ask how it will benefit Nora to spend two weeks in a class designed for older students, discussing a book she’s never read. So far, I haven’t had a reply.

The whole experience has left me pretty dispirited. It’s made me question whether the alternative support we’re getting is less about Nora’s education and more about ticking boxes.

Is the number of times Nora logs on to an online class – even one not aimed at her age or ability – really more important than her mental health? Apparently some people think it is.

End of rant.

tick box

I just want to be happy…

black and white woman girl sitting
Photo by Gratisography on Pexels.com

Last night my daughter tried to kill herself. This is not a sentence that trips lightly off the tongue. It’s hard to admit your child is so desperate they want to die. But it’s not the first time I’ve had to say these words. It may not be the last, either.

This time is particularly difficult, because she’s making such remarkable progress. In six, joy-filled weeks, we have seen our daughter emerge from the iron grip of her crippling depression and start to embrace life again.

But we’ve always known her recovery wasn’t going to be straight-forward. Recovering from depression is often described as ‘one step forward, one step backwards’. This is hard, because each step forward brings the promise that, one day, this terrible illness will be a distant memory. The steps back are cruel reminders that you’re still a long way from ‘better’.

‘I just want to be happy,’ Nora said, as I eased the knife from her hand last night. The knife she had taken from the dishwasher when she sneaked downstairs, looking for something she could use to kill herself.

Nora will be happy again. She’s already had many precious moments of happiness over the last six weeks. There are many more to come.

There’s a particular challenge in helping young people with depression. Their brains are not fully developed yet. They haven’t had the same breadth and depth of life experiences as adults. A combination of these factors can make them more prone to suicidal thoughts and tendencies than older people suffering from depression.

When a depressed adolescent is having a bad day, they are simply unable to imagine a time when their life won’t be plagued by this illness.

They want to be happy. But the illness means that’s not possible. The illness makes them believe they’ll never be happy again. And they cannot imagine having to keep on living a life without joy.

So…what can a parent do?

You keep going

You accept your sick child will have bad days, alongside the good. You let them know this isn’t their fault.

You love them, unconditionally, and do all you can to keep them safe

Let them know you’re with them, through the bad times as well as the good. Let them know they can talk to you, share their worries with you and you will listen.

You never forget this is harder for them

This is important. It’s too easy to feel sorry for yourself, to ask yourself ‘why me?’ or – worst of all – to try to blame your child for their illness.

If you find yourself thinking this way, stop.

Your child is suffering and they need you to be strong. They need you to be there for them, no matter how bad things get.

And they need you to never, ever stop believing you’ll get through this – together.

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Living for the moment

adult alone anxious black and white
Photo by Kat Jayne on Pexels.com

All parents want our children to be healthy, happy and safe. We want this so much, we fool ourselves into believing we can make this possible. We send them to the best schools (whether it’s state or private, we still do our best to find the ‘best’ one for our child), we encourage them to take on hobbies and activities, we play games with them, help them with their homework, ensure they have regular check-ups with doctors and dentists. In short, we put a huge amount of effort into trying to keep our children out of harm’s way.

The grim truth, however, is this: sometimes all that work and love and devotion simply isn’t enough. Sometimes, bad things happen.

When your child is severely depressed, they are neither happy nor healthy. They are not safe from harm. They are suffering from a terrible, debilitating illness that renders them unable to engage with life in any meaningful way. Their thoughts are so dark, their anxiety and fear so overwhelming, that all they can think of is death. They want to die because anything is better than living like this.

When your child is this ill like this, the only thing you want is for them to be ‘better’ again. The problem with mental illness is that you cannot predict when – or if – this will happen.

Nora was so ill we knew her recovery would take time. We also knew it wouldn’t be a straight forward process. Recovery from depression is commonly described as ‘two steps forward, one step backwards’. As Nora gradually showed signs of improvement, we knew to expect good days and not so good days.

We also knew that this illness may forever be a part of who she is. Nora may ‘recover’ from this episode but we live with the knowledge that it could strike again.

What do you do when faced with this uncertainty?

You let go. You accept that the future is out of your control. You accept that your child’s path through life may be different to the one you’d hoped for her. You try not to worry about the fact she’s not at school now and may never go back to school in the future. You stop obsessing over how her illness will affect her friendships, her ability to deal with challenges in later life, or what her different future might look like.

You appreciate every precious moment when she’s happy. You remember – always – that you are lucky. She is still here. You can talk to her, laugh with her, buy clothes with her and see her smile again.

You focus on the here and now, appreciating every good day for what it is, without worrying about what tomorrow may bring.

You live life in the present. And you are more grateful than you ever believed possible for the many moments of joy you experience every single day your child is still here.

hope