little boxes . . .

Little boxes on the hillside,
Little boxes made of ticky tacky
Little boxes on the hillside,
Little boxes all the same,
There's a pink one and a green one
And a blue one and a yellow one
And they're all made out of ticky tacky
And they all look just the same.                                                                                   melvina reynolds

for a long time, kidlet's doctor, therapist and i have thought that something was going on in her world that was more invasive than depression . . . as if a major depressive disorder and ADD were not enough.  but when all of this started, she was only 15 . . . and like many fifteen year old girls, she was all over the place.  it was hardly the time to slap a label on her.

but we would see her hypersensitivity to criticism or rejection, her perfectionism, her feelings of inadequacy, her pushing away from relationships, her difficulty adjusting her moods and yes, thoughts of suicide.  something was there.  something making her life miserable.  our fear was that at 16 or 17, she would read a definition of a 'disorder' and become it.

problem is, kidlet, unlike all the 'little boxes on the hillside' resists fitting into a carefully constructed set of bullet points.  she is also sweet, brilliant, funny, imaginative, loving and empathetic.  and then while treating the depression, we realized that she was sensitive to the higher does of SSRIs and they were making matters worse adding in panic attacks to the repertoire.  it was time  . . . she was now 25.

and so it was carefully broached  . . .  the possibility that there was more going on.  something else that needed to be addressed.  it didn't surprise her.  although she has lived with her own personality construct for so long it seems, well, normal for her, but she did realize that not everyone struggles as hard as she does.

after changing her meds once more . . .  to help with both the depression and the emotional upheaval and just starting a new behavior therapy that would help modify her coping mechanisms and reroute her thought processes to better support her well being, she still crashed.  badly.

kidlet has spent the last 30 days in a residential mental health treatment facility.  group therapy seven hours a day five days a week with a lesser load on weekends.  long hard hours of work putting humpty dumpty together again.

she came home tuesday.  a happier soul.  a more connected person.  with coping mechanisms up the wazoo.  she is mindful and centered.  there will be lots more hard work to bring her the total happiness she deserves but she's working like a dog.  she will get there.  she is focused.

and, since she doesn't fit into one of those 'little boxes' in which doctors tend to shove their patients, there is no label.  kidlet is her own person and i am so proud of her.

there are stigmas to thumb our noses at.  there are battles to be fought.  but at the end of the line will be a life worth living.  a productive happy life.  and who can ask for more.