What's life like as a parent, after a storm of teen mental illness?

A year out from high school graduation, a year of college complete, people ask me, “How’s your daughter?” As the mother of a girl who has faced multiple mental illness crises and diagnoses, who no one knew if she would survive, let alone graduate high school or be off to college, my favorite thing to say is, “Good! She’s moving to Paris in the fall to study abroad.”

It’s an indulgence to report the most 'normal' thing in the world. I relish in the non-chalantness of saying what I heard parents saying to other parents growing up. How are the kids? Great! In the 80s and 90s, it seemed like everyone was great, all the time. Almost no one had kids who were depressed, anxious, and struggling. There were just ‘bad kids’ . . . and silence.

So is it really different now? Are teens way worse? Are parents more honest? Did we deconstruct the stigma around mental illness and reveal the truth? That families everywhere are dealing with horrific challenges when closed doors open?

While, thankfully, we are trending towards more honest conversations about mental health, the statistics accelerate urgency.

In the CDC’s analysis of youth risk behavior, from 2011 to 2021, almost all indicators of poor mental health and suicidal thoughts and behaviors increased. Girls in particular suffered an increase in persistent feelings of sadness or hopelessness from 36% in 2011 to 57% ten years later. They also reported a significantly higher rate of suicidality than boys.

Again I ask, What is happening to our children? What is happening specifically to our girls?

Last night I went to the musical at the high school where my daughter graduated. There was a crowd of grandparents and parents, siblings and friends. I watched the smiling faces greet each other and wondered, What’s under the surface? Then I glanced across the steps at a couple of girls who weren’t part of the play or the crowd waiting to shuffle in. Typical high school girls finishing up cheer practice or some other after school sport, like the sidekicks of the queen bee in every high school movie ever. What about them? If 42% of U.S. high school students (and 57% of females) said they felt persistently sad or hopeless, then the likelihood that one of those two kids is hurting badly is a sure bet.

Mental illness in our teens is confusing. It tears families apart. It wreaks havoc on dreams and ideas for the future. It forces us into spirals of angst and self-doubt. And when we might be on the other side of the worst of it, it haunts us, a chronic burn of anxiety. What if it happens again? Then we live with that, feeling guilty for everything. Guilt that it happened in the first place, guilt for feeling relief that we are away from it. Guilt that other people’s kids aren’t getting better. Fear that this is only a temporary respite.

The hardest thing, after people ask me how she’s doing, is when they dig deeper. Is she still struggling? Sometimes I stick to Paris and GPAs, changing the subject quickly. Other times I share the truth, which is that after five years of psych wards, hospitals, dozens of IEP meetings, trips to Utah, more therapists and social workers than I can count . . . she’s doing better. I’m the one that’s messed up. While my daughter has been away at college, I have needed and spent a ton of time alone. Crying a lot. Fearing a lot. Sometimes I stay in bed most of the day, unable to show up for anyone or anything. Other times I work compulsively for days on end because I just can’t stand to feel any more feelings. If something small upsets me, instead of a curse word under my breath, I might start sobbing and shaking. Until recently, I was leaving social engagements and family get-togethers and grocery stores in tears that came for no apparent reason. I still often can’t sleep through the night.

How’s your daughter?

In the honest conversations we have had, what’s clear is that my daughter now has skills. When those feelings of wanting to kill herself arise, when she spirals into self-doubt, self-loathing, and fear, she knows they aren’t all that she is. She knows that those huge feelings keep coming, waves that roll through her, and tell her lies. She knows they are lies now. And for the most part, she can call their bluff.

And you?

I’m getting better. I am healing. I feel a significant lift as time passes without one crisis after another. I forced myself to turn my ringer off at night after she settled into school. I quit being available all the time. I stopped being her 911. She found other resources. I go to a lot of therapy. When she calls, I only answer if I have enough energy for unpredictability.

We are healing. We have both developed skills, perspective and dare I say, resilience.

By, Naya Elle James

Naya is a writer who shares real life experiences through books, essays, and film. She believes that stories have the power to heal us, making what’s personal, communal, and returning us to hope. She is the author of Untouched and Untaken: A Woman’s Journey to Overcome Her Generational Legacy, a memoir about overcoming a legacy of abandonment to become the mother her daughter desperately needs. She is part of a small team of creatives at Samansara Media, where she co-writes novellas and screenplays about what it means to live our own versions of love, the nature of impossible choice, and how to evolve past the limitations of modern life. You can learn more about her and follow her work at nayaellejames.com. Read other original SBFC blogs from Naya: