If you are just joining me on this journey, this blog is a processing tool for a mother raising a child with a serious mental illness, the hallmark symptoms of which include suicidal and para-suicidal behaviors (acts that may be fatal, but are not “completed” suicides), self-harm, self-mutilation, disruptive relationships, depression, anxiety, and other issues.
No two people process grief, helplessness, trauma, and secondary trauma in the same way, so the goal is to open up dialogue in an area that is currently shrouded with shame, discomfort, sympathy absent real solutions, and above everything else: adequate funding for research and effective treatment for those who are suffering.
These human beings, like my child, are the cast-offs, the ignored; our untouchables. This is part of the reason it is so hard for parents and loved ones to advocate for those who are suffering. There are simply not enough resources allocated to resolve a problem with a higher fatality rate than some forms of cancer.
My child was diagnosed with two “disorders” that boast an exceedingly high suicide completion rates. Which, for me, means that this incident that I am beginning to tell my story to you, nearly a decade into trying to get help, is not the end. Not remotely.