My daughter has mental illness. Diagnosis in number too numerous to mention.
She was born a miracle with a less than a 1% chance at life. Everyone said, “God must have a special plan for her.” We thought so too.
She grew up with a brain that had been subjected to early infant trauma that caused it to short circuit and reroute it’s neuro-pathways so everything was perceived as through a clouded glass window of trauma and then obstructed by the blackness of clinical depression.
My girl lived with a chronic fear of abandonment that added to the brain changing its normal route away from one of safety and security.
I wish everyone could know, like her Dad and I know, how much she has really accomplished. Sometimes I have ached that she just wasn’t born with some glaring handicap so she could at least look like someone who has overcome so much. Instead, she looks like a healthy beautiful young woman…and thankfully now she’s very much living her best life. BUT we know the herculean effort it takes for her to live every single day. We know the hours of therapy she has engaged in to understand herself and to enact the changes she must enact to stay alive and independent. We know the bravery of every step she takes and we are in awe of her courage and relentless pursuit.
Recently her prematurity came into the present when her bowel became obstructed from adhesions that basically have her entire intestinal tract glued to her abdominal wall. After a week in the hospital and a special diet, it resolved itself. The pain was severe. She made it through though and she went back to work caring for infants in a daycare. I am so proud of her.
2 thoughts on “Sometimes Life…”
I’m so glad she is doing so much better. I love that you focus on her accomplishments and what she has overcome. She has so much courage and so do you. Thanks for sharing this.
My son has mental illness. It’s a rough road for the whole family. A lot of people don’t understand what mental illness is or what effects it has—I was in that group before my son was diagnosed. I have learned that it will be a lifelong journey for all of us. I give thanks for the good times, and I brace for the bad times, because experience has taught me that they will surely come. My son fights a hard battle every day, as does your daughter. I ache for him to be “normal” and to be able to enjoy the things others his age enjoy: good job, stable relationship, the possibility of a family. Those things might not happen, but I give thanks, as you do: for his life, for the fact that I still have him (suicide hasn’t stolen him), for the grace he displays, and for what I have learned. My heart goes out to you and yours. Just keep on keeping on.