When your child doesn’t want to live

“Do you want to live today?” I ask my son, as he stands by the refrigerator.

I realize this is a strange question to ask your child, but this is our new normal. It has been for a few months now, since the residential rehab facility that helps people with mental illness and addiction closed down due to Covid19.

Of course, this wasn’t the first thing I asked him. The morning began with me saying “good morning.” However, something in the way he looked at me made my skin tingle with that mother’s sixth sense.

Each day I go to bed afraid to fall asleep in case something happens overnight, and I wake up each morning terrified I will find him sick or dead. This question is needed.

“I don’t think I do,” he says, in a calm, matter-of-fact way. Except I can see the pain behind his eyes. He is tired.

“Have you acted upon that feeling?” I ask, praying silently that the answer is no.

We have learned a whole new vocabulary these past few months as we deal with our son’s mental health and addiction. No accusations, no blame, no shame. I’m trying to get answers and be an ally. These suicide ideations or attempts have become a regular backdrop to our daily life. A bottle of vodka, enough beer to pass out, or anything he can consume or do in an extreme way with the goal of hurting himself or worse.

“No, not yet,” he says.

The stranglehold of Mental illness and addiction

Like that, my day changes. I can see my schedule in my head, and I push it aside.

“Why don’t you come on my beach walk with me and the dog,” I say. “Let’s just get outside and get some fresh air, and you can tell me whatever you want. Or, we can just be quiet together. Whatever you need.”

“Okay,” he says.

“We’ll leave in 5 minutes,” I say, trying not to betray the urgency in my voice that I feel to get this man out of the house and with me so I know he’s safe. Even if just for an hour.

While he gets ready, I text my assistant and ask her to cancel all my morning meetings. I tell her I’ll update her later regarding my afternoon schedule, depending on how things go. She knows what my message means.

My son talks the entire hour or so we walk along the beach and the road near our house. He talks about the voices in his head and how he doesn’t believe he is worthy of living. Also, he tries to explain how he is just so tired in general, and how he specifically is tired of not being good enough. 

However, it’s not all serious. As we walk, we also laugh, mostly at the dog running through the waves. That laughter is a huge stress relief.

Parents will do anything to help their child

When we get back to the kitchen, the truth comes out.

“I lied earlier,” he says. “When you asked me if I acted upon my feelings, I told you no. But actually, I did.”

“Okay,” I say, flashing a million thoughts all at once, wondering what he did.

“I took everything left in the bottle of one of my anti-depressants,” he admits.

For a millisecond, time stops, as my brain tries to understand the level of danger without understanding anything about this drug or what the repercussions are.

Then we move into action.

“Let’s figure this out,” I say, calmly.

“Can you call your psychiatrist and find out what danger you are in while I go online and see what I can find out?”

He agrees.

Both the doctor and our research agreed that overdosing on antidepressants doesn’t typically kill you, but it can make you violently ill. We didn’t need to take him to the ER, thankfully, as with Covid, who knows what that would be like. However, the pills would make him horribly sick.

Our son started vomiting a few hours after our walk, and it continued throughout the day and most of the night. Finally, around 3am, we heard him snoring. A sign that he was finally sleeping.

Always be willing to start again at Day One

The next day we start over. Day one, again.

When he gets up, he is tired and weak from throwing up so much, but he is ready to start over.

Step one for this new beginning is getting back on all his medications with the right doses and schedule. Second step is clearing out his room and our entire house of every ounce of alcohol. He volunteers to also throw out all the junk food he’s been storing in his bedroom.

Over the course of the last 24 hours, I learned that for the past ten years, he did not live one day when he was both sober and on the right level of medication.

All the times he said he wasn’t drinking, he lied. When he said he was taking his meds, he wasn’t, or he took the wrong amount at the wrong time.

While he dutifully called his psychiatrist every couple of months, he lied to him, too, telling him he was fine. He refilled his prescriptions to only not take them at the right time or not take the right dose.

This reality hit me hard. My job was clear. Get him back to a baseline of sobriety, health and stability so the meds can do their job.

I thought we had been doing that for the past few months. But, no. Moving forward, I needed to pay much closer attention to everything.

Mental Illness and Suicide

Medications can also be suicidal weapons

One drug he liked to use as a weapon against himself is his anti-psychotic medicine. At 21, doctors diagnosed him with clinical depression with psychotic features. This looks a lot like mild paranoid schizophrenia. 

Without his meds, he hears voices. Worst of all, the voices sound just like people he knows, and the voices always say horrible things about him.

Once, when he was working with another one of our sons, he told me his co-workers were saying mean things about him. I tried validating this with our other son, who responded with confusion and surprise. “No, mom, I’m positive that is not happening. Everyone likes him and makes comments about what a hard worker he is.”

While the voices are not real, they sound real. And he often thinks they are real. He cannot tell the difference. One of the worst voices, he tells me, is mine. That breaks my heart.

Maintaining mental health requires consistent medication

Together, we go through all his prescriptions and meds. He has an updated list from his doctor, who he spoke to again today.

We line up all the bottles. 

He explains to me what each one is, while I read the detailed instructions and warnings. I take notes detailing when to take each one and how many pills. I then create a schedule to keep next to all the bottles in the kitchen cabinet.

Of course, there are missing pills. Not only the one he emptied yesterday, but a couple of others that he let the prescriptions run out. For others, there are three bottles of the same prescription.

We pick up new prescriptions for everything  and begin a new routine.

Using one of those daily pill holders, I organize his supplements and his medications by morning and evening. All bottles, and these holders, will remain in the kitchen cabinet, which we now keep locked.

I hate this. But it is necessary.

Getting help from mental health experts

When talking to his therapist, who runs the residential rehab facility he was scheduled to attend pre-Covid, she asked him to take another medication: Antabuse. He is required to take it for 30 days before his session begins, which hopefully will now start in July.

This drug has been used to help alcoholics since the 1950’s in order to keep them from drinking. In fact, when taking Antabuse, even the slightest amount of alcohol consumption makes you very sick.

Considering the impact of this new drug, we take a shopping trip to the pharmacy to buy alcohol-free versions of all his toiletries. Everything seems to have alcohol in it: shaving cream, toothpaste, lotion, shampoo, etc. It reminds me of when I first went gluten free and learned how many food items contain wheat or flour.

Staying sober and healthy

For several weeks (I honestly don’t know how long it was), we all remain sober and healthy. 

In the morning, I greet him and give him his meds and supplements, and then lock back up the cabinet. In the evening, the routine repeats itself.

We keep his car keys and his wallet. He does not leave the house without one of us. 

After only a few days of this new routine, his eyes look different: whiter, healthier. He is more alert. 

In July, the residential rehab facility was able to re-open, and he spent 28 days learning how to be the best version of himself.

I am so thankful for that place and the amazing people who founded it and and continue to work so hard to save lives and souls every single day.

I am also thankful to friends and colleagues who shared their stories with me, and allowed me to call them any time day or night if I didn’t know what to do. Or, if I just needed a compassionate ear. I could not have gotten through this without them.

The Mental health stigma and suicide rate

Through our experience, I learned how we are not alone. Far from it. In fact, millions of people and families face mental illness and addiction.

With the pandemic crisis, I cannot stop thinking about the people with mental health or addiction issues who do not have parents or family around them like our son does. People who are probably living on the streets, unable to have the financial or personal resources to stop using drugs or start taking medications.

The data is, frankly, depressing. More than 25% of adults in the United States suffer from a major mood disorder such as depression or anxiety. During Covid-19, experts estimate that number rose to over 40% of the population. At any one time, approximately 13% of adults are being treated for mental health problems.

Globally, mental illness is crippling families. The World Bank estimates that at least 10% of the world’s population suffers from some type of mental health issue, and 20% of the world’s children and adolescents suffer mental disorder.

Over 20 million people each month use substances in excess.

People with substance abuse disorders are six times more likely to commit suicide than those without, according to Mental Health America. The rate of completed suicide among people with alcohol or drug abuse problems is two to three times higher for men and six to nine times higher for women compared to those who do not have an addiction problem.

There is also a strong connection between homelessness, mental illness, and addiction. Reports suggest over 30% of homeless people battle mental illness, which often leads to drug and alcohol abuse.

What if we treated mental illness like a “real” disease? 

I also learned how common it is for people to suffer from the dual diagnosis of addiction and mental illness. This is more common than we realize.

Some 25% of Americans with mental illness also suffer from some form of chronic substance abuse, either alcohol or drugs or both. The two work against you in a negative cycle that is hard to break. Sadly, about 50% of those with dual diagnosis are not getting treatment for either illness.

I once told my son that mental illness and addiction are diseases, just like cancer. Only these diseases are stigmatized. When someone has cancer, the world is quick to rally around the sick person and do whatever is needed to help them live and be cancer free.

However, when someone is an addict or mentally ill, the world vilifies them, as if these diseases are chosen by the victim.

No matter what illness your child suffers, a parent will do anything to help that child be healthy again. We continue to pray and work to keep our son healthy and, more importantly, happy. I want all of my children to feel worthy of this precious life they were given.

I think it will take all of us to break this stigma and embrace anyone who struggles with mental health or addiction. It is not without its challenges. Addicts will lie, steal, cheat, and hurt the very people who love them and want to help them.

However, each day is a new day. Tomorrow might be day one for you or one of your loved ones.

Addiction recovery help

Sharing our stories and our voices

I struggled for months to write this. In my heart, I knew I needed to write down my experience and share it with others who might also be struggling. However, I found it hard to actually get it done or admit this happened. Honestly, there is guilt, shame, and embarrassment.

No matter how many people tell you it’s not your fault, it’s hard to hear it. As a parent, how can your child hurt and it not be your fault.

Part of healing from mental illness and addiction is letting go of the guilt and shame. For everyone involved.

I am sharing my story now.

Hopefully, together, we can break the addiction and mental health stigma that persists in our global society.

Today, I see moments when our son’s beautiful light shines bright. At least he now knows what his light is and how to shine it.

But there are still dark days. My hope is that he, and everyone experiencing addiction or mental illness, will discover how to maintain a quiet mind, an open heart, and the possibility for enduring happiness.