JannaSenior Contributor
Lost Hope
I feel terrible ... terrible because I'm reaching out for some help and I feel terrible because I haven't extended the same help to others of late.
My son, who suffers with ? major depressive disorder and social anxiety, has been through the entire mental health system and emerged without any positive gains. For those that don't know he is an adolescent and was in residential care for 8 months and was discharged approx. 6-8 weeks ago.
I now have my son back at home with me, in the same mental space he was in prior to his extended and so-called intensive treatement. To cut a very long story short ... it didn't work. I have a plethora of criticism I can level at our mental health care system as a result, but at the end of the day that doesn't help me or him. One day I will give you my critical analysis of our system, but that is a topic in it's own right.
My son is back at home 24/7. He refuses to go to school. He refuses to do anything much, other than live. He is holed up in his bedroom, rarely sees the light of day, is as uncommunicative as ever, chucks wobblies everytime I challenge him in any shape or form, has no motivation to change, appears to be content in his non-existant existance, and is the perfect example of the living dead.
I can't handle it anymore. I seriously am finding it so difficult to have him in my presence it's not funny. After dedicating so much time, money and energy into helping him, I have now come to the conclusion that all of it has been about as useful as pi$$ing into the wind. I no longer have hope and that is a dangerous thing. I no longer have hope that with patience and time he will move in a positive direction. Without that hope I have lost my tolerance, resilience and my strength. I am over it. I concede defeat. I can no longer invest myself emotionally, physically and financially into someone that gives NOTHING in return. I am sick to death of it, and can’t do it anymore and don’t even want to deal with him in any shape or form. I find his existance harmful, hurtful and mind-destroying. I hate it. I hate having to deal with every part of him and question my love for him. I can’t keep giving out and getting nothing in return.
I had hope when he entered into the CAMHS faclity. I had hope that with the right mental health treatment he would respond positively. WRONG. After leaving this facility, with very small improvements (many of which could be simply attributed to increased maturity via the passage of time), I have now come to the end of the road. There is nothing further I can offer him,
My realisation that the mental health system is inadequate and incapable of providing support in any shape or form in this situation merely galvanises my feelings and accelerates my despair and discontent.
I’m finding it so hard to be nice to him. Finding it hard to even serve his basic needs because of the ungratefulness that exists. The less I see of him, the less I do for him, the less I am aware of his existance, the better.
And yet in all of this, when I (Mum) loses it and speaks truth, I am the one who appears to be the mentally unstable and compromised indiviual at risk of judgement.
If I could only come to accept things perhaps this wouldn’t be as hard. Resistance is what makes this hard. Trying to achieve what seems to be the impossible, instead of accepting the inevitable. Trying to accept that my son is rotting in his room is hard.
I hope you get where I'm at. Done .. is the best description.
Love
Janna ❤️