It’s not like our family has been in hiding for the past three plus months. We didn’t drop off the face of the earth, hibernate, or seclude ourselves in our own doomsday prep bunker. The kids had stuff to do, I had classes to prepare for, wine to drink. We adapted to a new normal.
The boy fell into a routine of waking up thirty minutes before school, sneaking down into the basement in his pajamas sans deodorant or breakfast, so he could grab some time with his favorite YouTube channels before zoom classes began at 9:00 am. Daily was the same for him, same pajamas, same unkempt hair...same underwear. There was a plan to phase back his grade level in person, but it never happened as a local spike in positive cases and the holidays kept everyone home. However, as I write this today, he is back in school “hybrid style” meaning he must actually get up before 7:00 am, wear clothing he did not sleep in, and attempt not to send others screaming for the nonexistent hills due to his body odor even with a 6-foot social distance standard in place.
Just before Thanksgiving I said farewell to the bunion on my right toe, and while jacked on pain meds and laid up in a cast, we decided it was the perfect time to remove and replace all the flooring throughout the entire first floor. Not only would my husband and mother-in-law tear up carpet and tile, lay subfloor, and replace it with laminate, but it seemed like an excellent time to remodel the half-bath...the only one I can access without having to crawl upstairs. Of course, it’s always best to do these home improvement projects during the winter in the Midwest. Nothing screams “high class” like having your toilet sitting out in the backyard while it's snowing. The good news is our home looks spectacular. The better news is we also “know a guy” who can help out when you need to call in a professional.
The girl transitioned back into her high school schedule; classes via zoom, friends via Instagram. She involved herself with the Speech Team and even participated in a modest one-act play, all done remotely, of course. Experimenting with a new style, she dyed her hair, got her driver’s license, and found some stability with her medication. But what you see on the outside is a façade. It takes significant work and effort to put on a dog and pony show each day, and eventually the shine dulls.
So we begin...again. For the next 4 to 6 weeks we are back at Northwest Community Hospital, back to the full-day Partial Hospitalization Program, and then likely a few more weeks of the half-day Intensive Outpatient Program. We are back to the long commute, removing her from all of her high school classes as a medical absence, yet still requiring her to login and keep up with her assignments, allowing her to continue extra-curricular activities where she will meet and connect with friends if she can maintain eligibility. The PHP is designed to provide more intense independent and group therapy to help her overcome her struggles with her mental illness, the depression and anxiety which continue to smother her. The medication has done what it can, but it is not a cure.
Within the last few months, she has continued to have suicidal thoughts. She has not had a cutting incident since Thanksgiving Day, but our home still functions as it did when she came home from the hospital after her attempted suicide in July of last year. There are no knives in our kitchen except the type to butter toast with. There is one pair of scissors in the craft room downstairs. There are no chemicals or medications for her to access, no ropes, belts, or razor blades in sight. A cabinet in the garage has a combination lock through the handles. I do not sleep soundly through the night, I haven’t had a good night’s rest in nearly 7 months.
There is a difference in her this time, a sense of purpose not present before. Most of the other parts of her life, except for what can’t be done due to the pandemic, are fairly stable. She has wonderful friends, good teachers, and positive relationships with them. She’s on the Honor Roll after starting her sophomore year in the PHP program and essentially missing the first 2 months of school. She was cast as a Lost Boy in the production of Peter Pan, pleased with her part and excited to be involved with all her musical theatre friends. She also sings with a specialized group called Chamber Singers, led by her talented choir director. Even though many of these activities still take place via zoom, some of them will be in-person, on stage, with others. Those are the interactions that breathe life into teenagers.
Her medications have stabilized to the point where she is not actively planning her own death. She may not be happy all the time, that’s not the point. Even those without mental health issues aren’t always content. But she does not dream of what it would be like to construct a noose out of her belt, to swallow all the pills in the bottle and go to sleep, to take the razor and cut deeper and deeper. Those thoughts no longer stalk her, intrigue her, fascinate her.
But even without an active plan or intent, she still has general feelings of “life would be better if I weren’t around.” So the question needs to be asked: Why? Why does she still have these thoughts? What is going on in her life or in her head that keeps allowing her to have these feelings? And more importantly, how do we address the causes and find solutions?
The first time she was enrolled in PHP, there were various factors which led her to be there. Social isolation from the pandemic, the devastation of a friendship turned crush that became one-sided and unreturned, the butting of heads between parental authority and teenage personality, a self-image so low it perceives no redeeming hope for itself. But what are the reasons this time? Which of these factors remains unresolved, or did new ones get added to the mix? Only time, openness, and the commitment to work together as a family to move forward will tell.