Sunday, March 10, 2013

That post I didn't write


You think everything is fine. Then, suddenly, you are booking an early morning flight, to rush to the hospital 800 miles away where your daughter was admitted because she'd stopped being able to do much of anything except sleep and cry and wonder why she couldn't feel anything but blackness.

You talk to doctors who want to find an explanation. There is none. You accept that there is not a whole lot you can do except express love and support. You take long walks, try to get enough sleep, and attempt to deal with things one day at a time as you adjust to the new normal wherein nothing is certain anymore.

A year later, you occasionally dare to believe that everything is back on track, that therapy and medication have given your daughter the tools she needs to manage her depression and her responsibilities back at school. But you still go to bed every night fearing the phone will ring.

And you wake up every morning and try to write about the experience, and about the anxiety that you
just
can't
shake.

8 comments:

  1. yes
    it sits like a lump of dread in the pit of my stomach, for years now

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  2. I do believe that is the second worst phone call any parent can ever receive. Mine was accident and coma.

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  3. Don't make yourself write about this: it won't help unless you (and she) are ready for it. Complete recovery is possible, but for most people, it's more a matter of adjusting her, those around her and the world sufficiently. The 70s anti-psychology movement often said that mental health was the sign of a world gone mad, not the individual. I wouldn't go anywhere near that far - brain chemistry has a lot to answer for - but the world we've made puts an awful lot of demands on people and we rarely stop to ask whether they're reasonable.

    The closer you are, the more likely you are to be the butt of anger, misery, mood swings and so on, plus the feeling of total impotence. It will hurt a lot, but one of the secrets is to remember that you aren't the target, and that the wonderful individual you know and love is still in there, biding her time. It's not your fault and it's not her fault: the arbitrariness of depression is hard to bear.

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  4. Oh, Mark - that's awful. I sincerely hope the eventual outcome was positive. Sometimes I guess it's good to be thankful for a silent phone....

    Vole, I've used writing as "my" therapy for so long I figured this instance should be no different. Thanks for the kind and wise words of support. The arbitrariness is hardest on her, I believe, along with the fact that the condition is so misunderstood.

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  5. Intelli, I cannot fathom what is going on here. I will put you and Mark on my prayer list. It's a bit tattered from being brushed aside but it helps me keep an even keel.

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  6. Thank you, Punch. How have YOU been?

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  7. This seems to be a pretty common thread with college students these days. My step-son has been in a blue funk at school for years, finally graduating but not motivated to do anything.
    I'm old and old-fashioned enough to think that what he needs is a good kick in the arsh but I'm beginning to wonder if something more is going on here, some kind of cultural or social dynamic that makes it all seem hopeless.

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  8. Mr. C, there IS a difference between clinical depression and just being in a funk, and not just a difference by degree. I do think, though, that some young people who grew up in the "everybody gets a trophy" environment in elementary school are ill-prepared for the realities of adulthood. I can't even begin to guess who serves as role models for young people anymore, either.

    It's a complicated issue, of course, and there is no one-size- fits-all remedy.

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