Last May, the entire world got too heavy for my 14-year-old freshman. She had been battling anxiety since the start of the pandemic and after months of extreme stress and anxiety, it quietly gave way to hopelessness and depression. I say quietly because that’s how depression sneaks in. There is no big boom, it just quietly creeps in and permeates throughout everything you do. One minute it’s bearable and then, just as suddenly, the weight feels insurmountable and inescapable. I know because I’ve felt that weight in my own life.
One morning when I went into my daughter’s room to wake her up she requested I lay down and cuddle with her, and in almost a whisper, my usually energetic and happy child held me and begged me to save her. She said she couldn’t go on and it hurt just to exist. Honestly, if the morning would have been more hectic, I may not have even heard her cry out for help. I could have missed her begging me for a life preserve and that terrifies me.
The whisper was barely audible.
This sounds easy enough; asking for help. But anyone who has a teenager knows how monumental it was that she took this step forward out of the darkness. As a mom, it’s also very easy to miss the signs because, as I mentioned, depression is silent in so many ways. Moms and dads are used to filtering through all the noise to get to the root of the issue with their children but when there is no noise, it’s exponentially harder to recognize that mental health alarm sounding. Mind you, this situation climaxed after years of behavioral therapy and months of antidepressants.
She felt so desperate that she told me that maybe she needed to be inpatient at the local behavioral health center. I can’t even begin to describe how scared and sad I was at that moment because when I was her age, I had been in that exact same dark place. I was triggered, as “inpatient” has always been one of my greatest fears for myself. But as her mom, I had to step outside of my own issues and do what was best for her at the moment.
So, we took her to be assessed. The whole family went to support her, but we were all terrified (especially me) because none of us knew what to do and this was one of those moments in life that were life or death. Unfortunate for me but fortunate for her, my own mental health issues have made me hyper aware of the signs and more empathetic than most, so I’m always listening for the whisper.
You see, I was her. She is me in all the ways. She is my personality, copied and pasted, and I love and hate that for her. If you know me as an adult, most people would say that I am an eternal optimist, it might even be my toxic trait, if we’re being honest. I’ve come to realize, it’s a residual overcorrect from literally trying to survive my teens. I was raised on “where there is a will, there is a way” and I truly believe it and in myself, while knowing my own limits (most of the time). But that was not always the case.
When I was a teenager (ages 14 to 18) I was extremely depressed and suicidal, almost daily. I had a plan to carry out my suicide and backup plans for my plans. I knew the correct ways to complete the task, I just needed the opportunity. Unbeknownst to me, I was in the early stages of my Bipolar 1 disorder and in conjunction with living in the house with an alcoholic father, checked-out mother, and all the pressures put upon me to excel while pretending to be normal when my home life was anything but. It was too much for any teenager.
My mind began to bend under the pressure so much so that the only solution left to stop the pain for good was to cease to exist. I researched and I planned and the only thing that got me through those long silent days and anguished, sadness-filled nights was my mother. I just could not imagine how I could destroy her life by selfishly leaving mine behind. I knew that wasn’t something she could recover from so I knew in order to be in peace, I’d have to break my own mother and leave her in pain for the rest of her life.
The whisper is still there.
I knew that killing myself was a permanent solution to a temporary situation but the thought of no longer existing and finally having peace kept calling to me in a soft whisper, reminding me that I wasn’t worth saving. In the end, my love for my mom outweighed my own pain. Her unconditional motherly love is what kept me hanging on and the thought of being the person that destroyed her was more unbearable than the pain of living.
I wished I could talk to her about it, but I couldn’t. We didn’t talk about things like that. To be honest, we still don’t because we see things differently. I see it from the perspective of someone who has experienced first hand the pain and anguish of major depressive episodes and full-on mania. My mom sees mental health issues as something that can be relieved with “calming down” and “taking deep breaths.” She doesn’t have a true sense of empathy because she’ll never admit there’s a real problem. As a mom, the guilt would be too much to bear. Yet, she literally saved my life because she loved me so much, whether she heard my whisper or not. But she was lucky. What if she never spoke to me about it, noticed it, or I wasn’t strong enough to fight for my life? We were lucky.
I wish someone had been there to salve my pain.
Unfortunately, no one was and even though it was the darkest time in my life, I think it gave me a unique perspective that I need now being the mom of a child suffering from major depression. It’s been four months since we took our daughter to be assessed at the local behavioral center. She’s doing better but even with medications, therapy, and following every recommendation to alleviate her depression, the whisper is still there. I make sure to intently listen through the noise and the silence so that I can catch the whispers before they escalate into permanent silence.
If your child is experiencing depression or suicidal ideation and you need help or aren't sure of where to start, call your child's doctor, tell them what's happening and ask for guidance. If it's emergent, call 911.
Note: If you or any of your loved ones are struggling with suicidal thoughts, you can always reach out to the 988 Suicide & Crisis Lifeline by calling 988. They are available 24/7 by phone or online chat.
