Social media - our lives revolve around kittens, memes, sometimes political rants which seem to be the only thing that's allowed to be ugly. We share all the ways in which our lives seem perfect, or perhaps happily ordinary.
The truth, in the meantime, is that behind closed doors, away from that peeping-Tom window of social media, we all face a struggle. We don't talk about it - dirty laundry is aired at home only. We don't share except with a few, because it's painful or maybe because then it becomes too real.
In the end, how many of us are struggling in isolation? Or how many of our loved ones at home are struggling in their own silence, while looking perfectly fine, animated, even happy?
Well, my kid, for one. And I share this because maybe your kid is too, and you know it. Or maybe you don't.
She is funny, witty, animated, weird in the best of ways. She is bright and creative. She is a force of nature, and I'm sorry for whoever may be crazy enough to stand in her way. She's like a firework - filled with energy and light, beautiful and striking, and a bit dangerous too.
And she's struggling. She's hurting. She's crushed by this pain she's not able to let go of or work through, because it hurts so damn much. On a good day, she may be at a 4 on a scale of 1 - 10. And even at a 4, she's considered suicide.
Yes. That dirty word. Suicide. The one we don't talk about.
Being who she is, she's evaluated the pros and cons and decided she'd be stupid to go through with harming herself or worse. Two things keep her from it - food (she's her momma's kid, after all), and knowing that this won't last forever.
She's in therapy. There's no traumatic event, loss or situation that seems to be the root cause, so even less reason to suspect there's something off. She's now been prescribed an anti-depressant, because her suicidal thoughts are so frequent. And I don't know if this hurts me even more because finally something can be done to bring her some relief and help her cope, or because it's bad enough to require a prescription, or because it's just hurt for so long to not be able to make it better.
It's not major depression, but minor (or so we are told, and thank God for that). And yet, "minor" is such a deceivingly innocuous word.
If you saw her, talked to her, spent days with her, you would never know. This is her normal, she carries it within her and holds on tight.
And I hurt, because there is nothing I can do to solve it NOW. Because what I want to do is scream and fix it with a magic wand that will make it all ok. And I know I'm doing all I can, and that this is temporary.
Why am I sharing this? Because life isn't made just of photos, and kittens, and memes, and the FB posts on the stuff we are willing to share. Because maybe, just maybe, I can help one more person out there face her or his own situation. Because maybe I can help someone else. Because more kids than we think experience this.
And to those of you who've known and continue to pray for her, thank you. You are my angels on earth.
