I was a mother who didn’t know or understand much of anything about mental illness. I just wanted to save my daughter.
Today, I’m aware. And I accept the numerous diagnoses she has received from psychiatrists and psychologists. My daughter was identified as having generalized anxiety in 2010. Before that, it was borderline personality disorder, bipolar disorder, etc.
I will try to be brief, because the journey has been a long one, both for her and for us. At the age of 16, 23 years ago now, everything changed. My daughter was involved in a very serious car accident. She was in a coma, with head trauma, and was injured from head to toe. The doctors told us they didn’t know if she’d live. Then they told us they wanted to amputate one of her legs. I had to fight very hard for that not to happen. And so, she went from one hospital to the next. She had 18 operations to her leg, skin grafts, etc. It all turned upside down. She was having weekly operations, and she was on constant medication, both oral and injectable. She suffered a lot. She ended up with drug abuse problems.
My husband and I no longer recognized her. She was thin, her tone was green. Her behaviour was unacceptable, and she began to hang out with questionable characters. It wasn’t the same girl we had known.
We went to get help, both for her and for my husband and me. Group meetings were a great support, but I knew there was something else out there. But what? I had to keep looking.
After several years of suffering, one day she came to my house in a full-blown meltdown. It was awful. Throughout it, I stood frozen, as though my feet were in a block of cement, unable to move. My eyes were wide. I could barely breathe. I thought I was going to die. My daughter left, slamming the door behind her. I thought she was going to kill herself. But she came back 10 minutes later. Seeing the state I was in, she got scared, and it was her who picked up the phone to call L’Accolade. When the director answered the phone, my daughter asked, “Can you help my mom? I’m the problem.”
So that was how, through my daughter, I got to know L’Accolade. It was exactly what I needed. The work we had done before was of great help too, of course, but at L’Accolade I had help that was specific to my needs. And believe me, I took all the help I could get. Sometimes, it would be twice a day: me, crying. I attended the evening meetings and used the services, which were all free, too. And gradually, I got better. I had to learn to let go when it came to my daughter. We ended up going six years without seeing one another, at all. It was horrible. But she worked on herself, and I worked on me.
We’ve been back in touch for almost a year now, and it’s amazing. She’s on medication, has a good job, is seeing a psychiatrist, a psychologist (follow-ups), is going to AA meetings and is in touch with her sponsor. She has a tremendous amount of support!
My husband is on the board of directors at L’Accolade; he wants to give back.
As for me, I’m still here. It’s been over 10 years now. I’m trying to help others.
Isn’t that what hope is all about?
A huge thank-you to you all,
Carole