One Less Worry

If you could permanently get rid of one worry, what would it be?

The possibility of self harm or suicide, committed by my only child.

My answer is simple, although the problem and its solution, not so much. My son lives with mental illness. And this worry is a constant one.

As mothers, it is normal for us to worry about our children, all of the time. Have they had enough to eat? Are they cold? Do they feel lonely? Will their first day of school go well? I hope he’s making friends? Has anyone hurt his feelings today? Does he feel smart? Does he know how much he is loved? Does he realize what a gift he is to others? Can he see through the bullies enough to understand it’s not about him at all, but rather, it’s all about them? And so on.

All very real worries.

And then, there’s the mommas of babies who live with mental illness. Who have supported, loved and cried through many a crisis with their children. Who have called 9-1-1. Who have removed or hidden all sharp objects from their home. Who have wondered whether they need to remove all long sleeved clothing items from their child’s closet for fear of strangulation attempts? These mamas – who have lived through their child’s attempted or completed self harm episodes or suicide. These. Mamas.

I would take this worry away in a moment, if I could. Because it would then mean, he was well, without the illness, and thus, there was no need for me to worry. The thing is this. Mental illness is a very fickle thing. Right now? We are not in crisis. My son is doing relatively well. I hesitate to say he’s in a remission, because it’s always a fight. There is no real break from this. He takes meds. He can’t miss them. He sees a therapist. It’s best he continue that with regularity. He swims and stays active. It’s important to continue this for the stress relief and endorphin release. But all of these steps to help regulate and treat his illness are no promise, no cure. It’s kind of like we’re in an intermission of sorts. Being in an intermission does slow the worry. Like the tide going out to sea, the worry shrinks and retreats and allows more room for peace and stillness.

But it doesn’t go away.

Because we’ve been in intermission before. And it always ends. Always. Whether the trigger is stress or season’s changing, a traumatic event or even no reason at all. The fact is, mental illness isn’t curable. It’s manageable, but not curable. So that worry, it’s always sitting there. Waiting. And when the crisis hits? With full force, the worry takes over, crashing into every part of your mind, your heart, your soul.

Because how do you not worry? When you you’ve seen awful break downs that you know aren’t even the worst they can get? How do you not worry when you’ve seen your son swing a hammer at his own head, all triggered by the dog eating a piece of his candy? How do you not worry when your son beats his head against the window in the back seat of the car, over and over again, because their jeans don’t ‘feel right’. How do you not worry, when you get a call from school to come help because your son has removed his long sleeve shirt and tied it around his neck so tight that he was gasping and struggling to breathe?

How do you not worry?

It’s impossible to eliminate this worry. It just is. Yet, there are those quotes about how worrying about tomorrow robs us of our happiness today. And there is truth in this. Yet, my worry, it fuels my awareness in a way. Helps me stay diligent in doing what I can to eliminate or minimize possible break downs. Or maybe that’s not worry at all. Perhaps that’s just experience teaching me what to expect? I don’t know.

I guess the point is this. When you’ve lived through what we have, experienced what we have, you can’t simply set aside those experiences and not expect them to profoundly change you. You can’t expect those experiences to not rewrite a new version of your life. One in which you change certain things you do, or how you do them, because you are trying to avoid emotional triggers, which could lead to breakdowns and relapses.

I’m learning how to wade through all of this. I don’t have all the answers. I only know what we’ve experienced. And candidly, we’ve been through Hell. A couple of times. But we’ve made it out to the other side. And so I try and take that knowledge and put it to use. I try to minimize my worry, by really setting aside those things I cannot control, those things that are beyond my reach to change.

I will always worry about my child. It’s just what we do as mothers. But one thing has changed for me, since entering this fight against mental illness, and that is perspective. I’m learning to worry less about the ‘little things’. Like, what did he eat for lunch and did he get all of the vitamins he should. Or, did he get too much screen time today? Or, is he dressed warm enough for the bus stop? And why won’t he wear his boots and hat? Are these things important? Of course. I’m not saying they should be ignored. But having been in crisis mode a couple of times, where I am literally worried about his safety and well being, and whether or not he’ll turn a sharp object on himself ? Well then, screen time and eating enough carrots just doesn’t seem to be so important.

You see what I’m saying?

So yes…if I could permanently eliminate one worry from my life. It would be the worry that my son would or could ever turn on himself. That he would be hurting so deeply, that the only option in his mind would be to not be here anymore. THIS is the worry I would rid myself of.

For good.