So proud

I know she is really struggling, but I am so proud of my daughter. Proud of her for asking for help. Proud of her for being committed to treatment. Proud of her for not giving up.

Two weeks ago today I took her to the emergency room where 48 hours later she was admitted to the mental health unit. She has watched other kids come and go. Kids she thinks were “way worse” than her. And although she has been struggling with this, she hasn't given up. She has broken down, but she hasn’t given up. She knows she isn’t ready to leave. That her treatment will take longer this time. That the medications will take longer to become effective. That it will not be an easy road.

It breaks my heart that she is looking forward to a time when she will be “better” because she won’t ever be completely “better”. Not in the I-had-the-flu-and-got-better sense. She will improve. She will learn coping skills. She will have more good days than bad. She will value her life. She will be a different kind of “better”. But she isn't there yet.

I had to spend the weekend looking at pictures of her school-mates in all of their prom attire, while her dress hung unworn in her closet. I got a message from someone reaching out because she wasn’t in any of the photos and questioning why. She wouldn’t have been in them anyway. Because just like the person who messaged me, most of the people in those photos turned their back on my daughter months ago. They didn’t want to deal with her.  They didn’t see her illness as an illness and something she had no control over. And while I understand that and am not angry about it, it still hurts.

That is why I starting writing this blog. Because people need to understand that mental illness is real. It isn’t a choice. It isn’t something you can “get over” like a bad mood. I can’t tell you how many friends have told her she has no reason to “be sad”. That is what makes it an illness. It isn’t based on the good or bad things in your life. It doesn’t go away when you get your way or because you spend more time reading your bible or because you decide to be a better person or because you live in a nice house. It improves with treatment, support, and a shit-ton of hard work.

People with a mental illness need as much, if not more support than those dealing with a physical illness. It is invisible. It is invasive. It is relentless. And it is a daily struggle to manage. There is no relief. And there is so little understanding. That needs to change. 

I am so proud of my daughter. She is beautiful and smart. She is loving, accepting, caring and outgoing. She is open-minded and opinionated. She is thoughtful and giving. She is her little brother's best friend. She is so much more than her mental illness. And she is going to use her beautiful life helping others understand, building awareness, and making sure that others know they are not alone.