Parenting a child with mental illness means never resting, always on watching for signs, and having a plan. This is my life because he is my world.
Health Parenting

Waiting for the Other Shoe to Drop

Parenting a child with mental illness means never resting, always on watching for signs, and having a plan. This is my life because he is my world.

By Courtney Barnum of A Legion for Liam

If you or someone you love lives with mental illness, then I’m sure you know this feeling. When a cycle is creeping upon you or your loved one, you know it’s coming. Any day, they or you will spiral into Hell. The signs are there, but there’s nothing you or anyone else can do….

Waiting for the Other Shoe to Drop

That’s what it’s like for us. As his parents, we sit back, and we wait. Because we know that any day it’s coming. The deep, dark, depressive cycle. The one that steals the glimmer from his eyes, the smile from his face, and the hope from his heart.

He powers through the little cycles every month, but in the spring and fall, the big ones come. It never fails. It’s always waiting. Lurking. Taking its time. Ready to pounce. To leech into his life. Each time, stealing a little more innocence from my beloved boy.

The Signs

I’ve noticed he’s been slowly coming down for the last week. More apt to cry for no apparent reason. Commercials and songs on TV making him shed tears. We’re back to muting the TV again. (Especially the damn tiger commercial!) Sleeping ALL.THE.TIME. This child rarely sleeps. But in the past week, we have to make him get up. Literally fight him to get up, and play or do art, or anything other than sleep.

Video gaming is usually a reprieve for him. But not now. A simple loss sends him spiraling into sobs. He’s head-banging again too, and not to our beloved rock music either. I mean, he’s getting so upset that he bangs his head for “relief from the thoughts.”

These little signs are how I know the big one is coming. He does too. He can sense it. He feels it. He asks me, “How bad do you think it will be, Mama? Do you think it will be over fast? I don’t want to lose a month of my life again.”

Thoughts from an ELEVEN-Year-Old Boy

A boy that struggles to make sense of life as it is because he lives on the autism spectrum. He also fights this demon we call mental illness. More specifically, he fights Pediatric Bipolar Disorder.

My son really is a superhero. Sans cape, of course (except for the days when he dons his Batman one). But he won’t. Not until this cycle subsides.

You see, people on the spectrum perseverate. That means they have one thought, repeatedly. Day in and day out. Now add in the horrible thoughts of wanting to die from mental illness. Those fleeting thoughts don’t leave. Now they are all he can think of. They play on repeat in his little mind, all day, all night. I can’t imagine how that must be for him.

A Plan

For now we live each day in waiting. Making mental notes of every sign, so we know when to jump into action.

We have to have a plan. Up until now if he became too suicidal, it would mean a four-hour ride in an ambulance to the closest mental unit that takes young children. Now, however, he’s “old enough” for the local behavioral science unit. I’m not really sure if that should make me feel better. Because my eleven-year-old boy would be in a ward with adults fighting the same battle. My baby. My world.

Suicide Watch

Suicide watch is coming. We make sure all scissors or kitchen knives are hidden. He isn’t left alone for more than a few moments. And yes, that means even in the bathroom. Because all it takes is a moment. It also means that I will now be sleeping in the living room with him. Someone has to be by his side at all times. No comfy bed. No good night’s sleep. Not now. Not for a while. This is our life. This is autism and mental illness.

This life isn’t easy. For him, it’s even harder. So on a bad day, take a moment and remember it could always be worse.

And if you are experiencing suicidal thoughts, please ask for help. I know, it’s not always easy. Most often, my son doesn’t ask either. But there are people who want to help. Call the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 1-800-273-8255. You can even message me if you need it ( [email protected] ). But please, reach out.

This post was originally published on A Legion for Liam. 

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About the Author

Boy mom of two. Fur mom of three. Writer who is fluent in sarcasm, artist, Jill of all trades, master of none. Boy one is ADHD and grown. Boy two is autistic with mental illness and then some. Sometimes I sleep. Read more at A Legion for Liam.