Being a teenager is hard.Being a parent is hard.
Being the parent of a teenager is outrageously hard.
I can remember growing up as a teenager in the 1980's. I knew all there was to know in the world. I had it all figured out- life, the world, politics, girls, everything. Then I got into the "real world" and quickly realized I really didn't know much at all, especially about girls. Girls were complicated...REAL complicated. What I didn't know much about as a teenager was mental health. We never really talked about it. Nobody I can remember ever talked about mental health. Ever. As far as I knew mental health meant crazy people. Like people in straight jackets in a padded room crazy. To me you were either just out-of-your-mind, detached from all reality, bonkers crazy or you were sane. I never knew nor did it ever occur to me that it was much more nuanced than that. I never thought about it because we never talked about it. Ever. Looking back, I'm sure there were kids around me who were struggling with anxiety and depression but that was something that you just never brought up. I guess maybe it was expected or assumed that it was all part of the "teenage experience" because of the raging hormones bouncing around in our bodies. So those around me who I'm sure were struggling with those issues did so in silence. Knowing what I know now, I feel so bad for those who struggled with mental health issues in Junior High and High School. I now know and understand that mental health issues can affect anyone at any time and requires everyone to fight to overcome those issues.
My oldest son Ayden was born in the Spring of 2002. I can remember everything about that day with crystal clarity. I remember the moment he was born the nurses wanted to put in him in some bin with hot warming lights overhead so they could check his vitals but the doctor said to the nurses "No, let them see their son first. He's perfect." And Ayden was. He was truly perfect. I cried I was so happy. I made him a promise that day that I would always protect him and help him but he couldn't be a Nebraska fan or a Raiders fan. (True story by the way) Ayden seemed to be perfect all the time. He rolled over on his own way before he was supposed to, we found this out when he unexpectedly rolled off the couch and onto the floor. He began walking at nine months old. Potty training was a snap. He was a good sleeper. An early talker and was fascinated with dinosaurs. He LOVED dinosaurs! He read and watched everything and anything about dinosaurs. When Elmo's World had an episode on dinosaurs Ayden's head about exploded. When he was three, Ayden struck up a conversation with a paleontologist at the museum about how the wrong dinosaurs were in the movie Jurassic Park! Ayden was so fun and engaging to be around.
In school Ayden just seemed to know more things than other kids his age and he would get very frustrated with the other kids when they didn't know what he knew and he was more than willing to let other kids know how frustrated he was with them which earned Stephanie and I a lot of after-school conversations with his teachers. Because Ayden seemed to operate on a higher level than other kids he had a hard time connecting with his peers and "good friends" were hard for Ayden to find. However, other than his frustrations with his peers and a developing "hyper sense of righteousness" that would get him into trouble from time to time, elementary school was fairly uneventful. In middle school, everything changed.
Looking back it happened very early on. I want to say changes began to appear in late August or early September of Ayden's 7th Grade Year. I can pinpoint the exact moment that our lives pivoted for the worse. We were out on the back deck finishing dinner. Steph, our youngest Cameron and I were all chatting about our day and laughing at the sheer goofiness of life. Ayden sat there, sullen, silent, picking at his food. Finally, Steph and I asked Ayden if he was okay. Ayden replied he was okay, he was just tired. So we shrugged it off. No big deal. Moving from the elementary school to the middle school was a huge adjustment so it would make sense that Ayden might be tired from the overwhelming changes. A few days later at dinner, I noticed that Ayden had a number of scratches on his arm. I asked him about it and he laughed and said that he had cut his arm with an Exacto knife in shop class on accident. I told Ayden it looked like he had slipped several times to which Ayden replied that he had because he was having trouble controlling the knife as he was cutting the material. I thought that was weird but I took Ayden at his word. Steph and I had also noticed that Ayden seemed to have a new group of friends, mostly upper-class girls, very few guy friends and hardly anyone his age. Ayden had also begun to express an interest in dressing different and had begun to listen to a very different type of music that he had been interested in before. All of which we passed off as being normal teenage stuff. Ayden began to seem more and more withdrawn from us as well. He rarely spoke to us and often when he did it was sharp and curt. Again, just normal teenage stuff we assured ourselves. Then Steph happened to come across a computer that Ayden had been using but had forgotten to shut off. Steph noticed that he had been messaging with someone so Steph quickly glanced over the message and that's when our world as we knew it changed. In this message, Ayden spoke about very disturbing things. Ayden was not happy, Ayden was very, very low and in a very dark place. Steph printed out the messages and showed me when I got home. It was obvious something was very wrong with our perfect little boy.
We spoke with Ayden about the messages. He didn't try to pass them off or defend them though he couldn't really explain them as well. He told us that he had been cutting and that's where the cuts on his arm came from. Cutting was a whole new concept for me. I had never heard of this before. It didn't make any sense to me. To Ayden, it made perfect sense. Steph and I told Ayden he had to see a therapist as well as a psychologist. Ayden reluctantly agreed but I think deep down he was relieved. Ayden was diagnosed with depression and anxiety. At first, I didn't grasp the concept of depression. I had certainly been depressed before but within a few days, maybe a week, I was back to normal. I honestly thought Ayden just needs to get happy, get over this depression. After all, what did he have to be depressed about? He had really never had anything bad happen to him. I honestly didn't get it. Then came the gut blow. The psychologist called us into her office after speaking with Ayden. We were informed that Ayden was in a bad place and was a danger to himself. We were told to lock up all of our medication and sharp objects and Ayden was not allowed to be by himself. That was a devastating blow. Steph and I were beside ourselves. How could this happen to our perfect little boy? This was just so unreal.
The next two years was a true roller coaster ride with a lot more downs than ups. I had a ritual that I followed every morning during this time. I would wake up early in the morning to get ready for school but first I would go down to his room and wonder as I went into his room if Ayden was still alive. I would go over to his bed and place my hand on his chest to check for breathing. Thankfully, every time Ayden was still breathing and I would literally thank God for giving me one more day with Ayden. No parent should ever have to think about such things. There were nights that Steph would be so concerned about Ayden that she would go sleep in his room with him or have him come sleep on our bedroom floor. There were fights, yelling, fantastic volatile outbursts that seemed to come from nowhere. Door slamming, screaming and crying. There were days that Ayden refused to get out of bed. Days where Steph, Cameron and myself were mortal enemies and days that we were Ayden's savior. It was tough and very taxing. One moment, in particular, stands out to me. It was truly one of the scariest moments of my life. It was a Monday night and the Broncos were playing the Cincinnati Bengals. All I wanted to do was watch the game and had settled into my chair for the evening. Suddenly there was a major row in our house. Ayden and Steph were fighting with each other. I don't remember what the fight was about but I do remember that there was a lot of anger. I kept trying to be the mediator and allow cooler heads to prevail but that approach was failing spectacularly. Then Ayden said something to Steph that instantly made me extraordinarily angry. I don't remember what he said or why he said it but I do remember that it really made me angry and I was up out of my chair and in Ayden's face. At this point, Ayden said something to me that I vaguely remember as some sort of threat. I remember standing inches away from Ayden and looking into his eyes, all I saw was intense burning rage, his whole body was quivering with anger, out of the corner of my eye I could see his hands clenched in fists of resentment. I thought to myself 'My God he's going to take a swing at me.' Instantly I begin to run various scenarios over in my mind as to what my reaction should be if Ayden did take a swing at me: should I duck and push him down, should I just let him hit me, should I swing back? I was really scared. Luckily Ayden backed off and slunk back to his room. I collapsed into my chair with tears in my eyes. I was scared that I would probably have gone to jail had he swung, I was scared for my boy how did it come to this, I was scared for my family, I was scared of everything.
Eventually, I came around to understanding and accepting depression and to be able to deal with it in a real way. Ayden got out of middle school but only after having his class schedule shortened and being declared as being "Habitually Disruptive" for fighting. Let me tell you, this Middle School stuff is not for the faint-hearted. Ayden continued with therapy and actually enjoyed and looked forward to it. Over time he got better and more mature. When high school came around Ayden was a new person. He is no longer that angry, depressed kid he was in middle school. Ayden is, for the most part, enjoyable to be around. He seems to have a new outlook on life. He still has an overdeveloped sense of righteousness that still gets him into trouble from time to time. His political beliefs continue to perplex, stun, frustrate and bewilder me. His hair makes him look like a deranged Chia-Pet. His room is still a borderline hazardous waste site. But at least he seems to be a well adjusted young man who can manage his anxiety and depression much better than he did in the past. Which makes me so happy because he's my boy who I wouldn't trade for anything in the world.
I thank often God that Steph just happened to come across those messages when Ayden was in 7th grade and that Ayden was receptive, albeit reluctant, to getting help. If we hadn't I honestly don't know that my world would be what it is today. If you know someone or even suspect someone needs mental health help, please don't hesitate to intervene. Their life and yours is too important. If you are struggling with mental health issues of any kind, please talk to someone. I guarantee you someone cares, will listen and help you get the help you need. There is no shame in seeking or receiving mental health help. You and your loved ones are too important.
