Let me tell you about this picture, friends.
Because I think what the world is desperately missing is a real and raw perspective of what extreme parenting actually looks like--behind closed doors, when all defenses are down, in the darkest and cob-webbiest places that many times carry too much fear and shame to share.
We are in week 4 of an 8 week med change regimen. This one has been extra hard because it also included both diagnostic changes AND additions.
If you've never loved someone who has experienced a life-altering mental or physical diagnosis, it is pretty difficult to fully capture all of the weight it can carry.
It can mean grief and loss.
It can look like fear and anxiety.
It can feel like anger and frustration.
It can be overwhelming guilt.
So our sweet, thoughtful, funny, kind little nine year old boy who has navigated diagnoses, meds, specialists, and therapists for years, is having his body subjected to WEEKS of feeling out of control physically, mentally, emotionally.
And, as his mama, all I can do is sit by and watch it all happen...
Crying with him,
Feeling frustrated by him,
Then feeling guilty for all of those
This is what it really looks like to parent a child with mental and behavioral diagnoses.
This morning it looked like nearly three hours straight of screaming, running, jumping, throwing things, hurling insults, crying, breaking things, and so much more.
This was all within moments of waking.
There was no time for coffee or to breathe.
Now, we are in crash mode.
His body is exhausted.
So is mine.
We've both cried.
We are both completely worn and weary.
So here we are.
No answers and no hope of an end in sight because mental health is not predictable.
It takes time.
It takes trial and error.
It takes immense strength and endless forgiveness and grace--to yourself, to your child, and to those who want to support you but just don't know how.
So, be kind to someone today, friend, because this may have been their morning, too. ❤️