Spent about an hour last night reading through some old posts from an idle blog of mine. I used to write a lot about the initial onset of my son’s mental health issues, about the guilt I felt about not being able to do much to help him, and general all around ranting and raving.
I was one very angry woman. A year, 18 months ago, I was in a perpetual state of being homicidally pissed off at everyone and everything.
That seems like a lifetime ago.
My son was going through a transition. He was forced to drop out of school and was in a very scary place where we couldn’t reach him.
Back then I was constantly on the verge of tears. I felt powerless to help my son. There was no light at the end of the tunnel, only stumbling blocks and pitfalls. I was lost in my sorrow and impotence.
That was then…
Today, my son is attending technical school to learn a trade, he is managing his disorder and is talking about moving out to live on his own. And, I don’t feel like I need to hit something all the time. Life is still a struggle sometimes, but it’s okay. We’re learning, and growing, and making our way as best as we can.
My son is smiling again, and I can breathe again.
When I meet other parents who are just starting on this journey, receiving a diagnosis that changes their child’s life and their own, I can confidently say, ‘it will get better.’ It may not seem that way right now, but they too will see that light some day soon.
You will all learn to cope, even thrive. You will find a way to carry on and hope won’t be an inconceivable concept any longer. There may even be laughter again. It may not be today, or even tomorrow, but it will happen.