Perfect
I started blogging eleven years ago (on my old blog). Back then my daughter Ryan was 8-years-old.
She was brilliant and beautiful, gregarious, precocious and wise beyond her years, willful, stubborn, talented, creative, quick-witted, and hilarious. She loved to swim and read and write stories and go camping. She had just given up her belief in Santa and the Easter Bunny, but she was holding (if tenuously) onto the certainty that fairies were real and existed in our garden.
She was perfect - to me - in that way that parents see perfection in their children; not in their behavior (lord knows!) or in their physicality, but in the pieces of them that come from the purest parts of ourselves - those parts formed of deep and abiding love, untainted by pain and loss.
She is still all of the things she was when she was 8 - brilliant, beautiful, gregarious, wise, willful, stubborn, talented, creative, quick-witted, and hilarious. She still loves the same things, though she eventually (reluctantly) gave up her belief that the wee folk inhabited our leafy green spaces (I'm still a little sad about that).
Today, in an online university magazine, she published a poem. You can read it here. It's a poem about depression... about wanting to die.
Reading it was one of the most difficult things I've ever done. Seeing, in black and white, that your own child is struggling to value the life you brought her into is devastating. But I'm so proud of her for writing it... and even more proud of her for publishing it.
You see, at the very beginning of her freshman year in college, Ryan was diagnosed with Bipolar II - a mood disorder. Like Bipolar I, moods cycle between high and low over time, but the "up" moods never reach full-blown mania (small favors?). The "down" moods (read: DEPRESSION) can be prolonged and, in my opinion (and likely Ryan's as well), especially vicious.
The diagnosis explained a lot for us (reckless behaviors, serious mood swings, personality changes) and though I had attributed much of the behavioral change I'd seen in her later high school years to normal teenage angst and drama (for which I will always beat myself up), I came to realize that she'd been spiraling downward for some time.
It's been hard. But my girl is tough. She is so tough. And she is trying. She's receiving treatment and medication, though we do wonder sometimes if it's helping. But she is trying. She is tired... but she is trying. And the thing I admire most about her way of dealing with this monster - this malfunction of the chemicals in her brain - is that she is not shying away from talking about it. She declares it - loudly. She gives it a name, she curses it, she wallows in it sometimes but then she gets up and she faces it. And I know that every time she speaks of it, every time she has the courage to stand up and say, "This is what's happening to me, this is how I feel, this is what I'm going through," she gives others the courage to do so as well.
As her mother, I struggle. I walk a tightrope every moment of every day, knowing that one text or phone call can knock me to the ground. I live for the moments when she is doing well... and I despair in the moments when she's not. I encourage and empathize, beg and chastise, and I tell her every chance I get that I love her madly and I believe in her unreservedly. Because I do.
Eleven years ago, the first blog post I wrote about Ryan was about the fairies. I ended with these words:
After being told by a boy at school recently that there is no such thing as fairies, she asked me if I believe in them. I said I absolutely do; there's no doubt in my mind. My affirmation worked, just like when she was little and I kissed the boo boos and made them better, and all was right with the world again. But I know the day is coming, in the not too distant future, when my words won't mean a thing.
I read her poem today and my heart sank. I know my words (among them, that she is perfect - to me) no longer hold the weight they used to. I know the chemicals in her brain have the upper hand and my love and support and belief in her come in long after the pain and fatigue. But still, I will speak those words - to her and for her and for others who might need a voice. Because...
She was perfect - to me - in that way that parents see perfection in their children; not in their behavior (lord knows!) or in their physicality, but in the pieces of them that come from the purest parts of ourselves - those parts formed of deep and abiding love, untainted by pain and loss.
Perfect.
Today, she is 19 and a sophomore at one of the best universities in the country.
And she is still perfect - to me.
Today, in an online university magazine, she published a poem. You can read it here. It's a poem about depression... about wanting to die.
Reading it was one of the most difficult things I've ever done. Seeing, in black and white, that your own child is struggling to value the life you brought her into is devastating. But I'm so proud of her for writing it... and even more proud of her for publishing it.
You see, at the very beginning of her freshman year in college, Ryan was diagnosed with Bipolar II - a mood disorder. Like Bipolar I, moods cycle between high and low over time, but the "up" moods never reach full-blown mania (small favors?). The "down" moods (read: DEPRESSION) can be prolonged and, in my opinion (and likely Ryan's as well), especially vicious.
The diagnosis explained a lot for us (reckless behaviors, serious mood swings, personality changes) and though I had attributed much of the behavioral change I'd seen in her later high school years to normal teenage angst and drama (for which I will always beat myself up), I came to realize that she'd been spiraling downward for some time.
It's been hard. But my girl is tough. She is so tough. And she is trying. She's receiving treatment and medication, though we do wonder sometimes if it's helping. But she is trying. She is tired... but she is trying. And the thing I admire most about her way of dealing with this monster - this malfunction of the chemicals in her brain - is that she is not shying away from talking about it. She declares it - loudly. She gives it a name, she curses it, she wallows in it sometimes but then she gets up and she faces it. And I know that every time she speaks of it, every time she has the courage to stand up and say, "This is what's happening to me, this is how I feel, this is what I'm going through," she gives others the courage to do so as well.
As her mother, I struggle. I walk a tightrope every moment of every day, knowing that one text or phone call can knock me to the ground. I live for the moments when she is doing well... and I despair in the moments when she's not. I encourage and empathize, beg and chastise, and I tell her every chance I get that I love her madly and I believe in her unreservedly. Because I do.
She is perfect - still (always) - to me.
Eleven years ago, the first blog post I wrote about Ryan was about the fairies. I ended with these words:
After being told by a boy at school recently that there is no such thing as fairies, she asked me if I believe in them. I said I absolutely do; there's no doubt in my mind. My affirmation worked, just like when she was little and I kissed the boo boos and made them better, and all was right with the world again. But I know the day is coming, in the not too distant future, when my words won't mean a thing.
I read her poem today and my heart sank. I know my words (among them, that she is perfect - to me) no longer hold the weight they used to. I know the chemicals in her brain have the upper hand and my love and support and belief in her come in long after the pain and fatigue. But still, I will speak those words - to her and for her and for others who might need a voice. Because...
She is perfect.
XO,
Sending love and strength to you and Ryan.
ReplyDeleteThanks, Pal O'Mine! xo
DeleteGreat post about a fabulous, feisty young woman! It's so wonderful that she's vocal and shares her experience because I know for a fact that she helps someone else every time she does it!
ReplyDeleteThanks, Susan! She is fabulous!! xo
Delete