49 and Counting

Aging comes up in my mind quite a bit now as I prepare to turn 50 in a few months.  When I envisioned 50 from the vantage point of my younger self, I modeled my imaginings on the “wise old woman” archetype.  I am sure that I thought that I would be watching my young-adult daughter move into her life, working at the top of my career, and enjoying the financial benefits that come with a good paying job and the absence of tuition payments.

I don’t need to tell you that I am 0 for 3 on that list. 

So, I am forced – really forced – to come up with a new description of me at 50.  

Let’s see.  I am building a new career by starting all over at the very bottom of the aspirational ladder; substitute teacher is about as basic as you get.  And I am loving it.

I have to count pennies, but I am living debt free (except for a mortgage) and that feels honest and fair.  I am finding that I genuinely enjoy bargain hunting and that there is a lot to discover in local resale shops.

More than anything, the real me at 50 is not sure of a whole lot, pretty humble about things, and far more reluctant to pass judgment than I used to be.  I know that I wasn’t a perfect mom to Molly and that I made some mistakes.  I know that for the most part we are all just trying to do our best, and I have renewed patience for the stumbling around that we all do.

I dye my hair.  I run 5Ks.  I eat my vegetables and limit (to some extent) how much wine I drink.   I take my blood pressure medicine.

Turning 50 is just fine.  One of my new realities is that I am much more willing than I ever was before to take risks.  What is the worse that can happen?  I will die?  I may not be seeking death out, but in some ways I will welcome it; whatever comes next, Molly will be there leading the way. 

There are too many of us.

In my work as a substitute teacher, suicide comes up all the time.   Of course, I live with the grim residue of suicide every day, but the fact that it is such an ever present topic in our schools reminds me that I am not alone as a suicide survivor.   There are too many of us.

Tragically, a local high school student took his own life last week.  A freshman.  Our community is large – maybe ten high schools – and the only way that I heard about the boy'’s death was shocked chatter in a teacher’s lounge. 

There was no notice in the paper, no obituary, no public word. I looked.  Everything is very hush, hush.  I guess that’s pretty typical; we didn’t place a public announcement either.  The people that needed to know found out.  But I will also admit that Molly’s death felt like a personal failure and at the time the last thing we wanted was public scrutiny.  I think I feel a bit differently now; whatever else her death is, it is not a personal failure.

My heart goes out to the boy’s parents and I hope that they discover fairly quickly that there are many of us – living right here in their own community – who live everyday with this loss.  We are hidden and unsure about how to be publicly supportive.  But we are here.

This is not the first suicide in our schools and administrators do not shy away from the topic.   Suicide awareness posters are publicly displayed;   just today a speaker in a high school talked about his suicide attempt; bullying prevention is part of the required curriculum at all grade levels; administrators are taking the possibility of suicide very seriously.

Of course, awareness will never be enough – but it is an important place to start.  It shocks me that at one point I actually thought that it wouldn’t happen to me.  I knew it might – I just didn’t believe it could.  And I was wrong.  

A Visit to a Meeting

I will admit I was hesitant to attend the mental health information meeting.  While I knew I would draw some comfort from the speaker who lost her daughter to suicide (and I did), I walked in to the room reluctant to admit that my life had anything to do with mental illness.

If the event had simply been presentations by people impacted by mental illness, I would have been just fine and chalked the evening up as a success.  The problem for me - and I know I am not alone - is mental health professionals.

The one at this particular meeting was down right jolly.   "Mental health treatment works," she said. "There are medications to control mental illness."  As if it was that simple.  As if those of us who lost everything to the mental illness missed the magic medication that was going to fix everything up just perfectly.   She had lots of support groups to offer.   I wanted to ring her neck.  (Figuratively, but you get the idea.)

Dear Mental Health Professionals,  here are a few tips from some raw experience:

1) Please stop comparing mental illness to diabetes.  I am really tired of that one.  Diabetes is diagnosed through specific tests and has an accepted regimen of care that does not include drugs that are labeled as dangerous for children and adolescents.  

2) Do not tell me that mental health treatment works as a universal truth.  It does not.  Suggest that many people are helped by mental health care treatment. 

3) Talk therpay will work for some.  But if  mental illness has a physical genesis (like the ever present diabetes, for example) then talking can't be expected to result in a cure.  Acknowledge that while medications are available, there are risks associated with them that need to be carefully worked through with a doctor.

4) Draw a picture of mental health treatment in strak contrast to physical medical care.  The primary model of doctor runs tests, get results and gives patient medication does not exist in mental health. In fact, the model works in reverse.  Sort of.  There are no tests.    Tell people that; coach patients and their families on how to work most effectively within the system.

5) Advocate for funds for research.  Always. 

Cleaning out Toys

Every parent has to clean out their children’s childhood at some point; it is not a task unique to those of us who have lost a child.

At least that’s what I told myself today as we went through bags and bags of Molly’s things.

We knew what to do with the fabulous doll house and the Barbie collection.  There is a family in the neighborhood with three girls under the age of 7.  The young (and at the time childless) parents had been wonderful to Molly when she was in elementary school, trusting Molly to walk their two dogs and providing a friendly eye over Molly’s comings and goings.  It was fun to give their girls Molly’s “good stuff.”

In fact, if I have a regret, it is that we didn’t do this sooner.  Although the Barbies were carefully stored and the doll house was covered, they seemed a bit dusty – a bit worn down simply by sitting in a box.  Toys are meant to be played with.

While we were at it, we gave the girls one of several china tea sets that Molly was given as a young girl.   Molly was never the tea set type; hopefully the neighbor girls will use it!

And then there were books and DVDs and storage boxes and other miscellaneous things that we took to Goodwill.  And some of the stuff is just trash…  like the dress up clothes and the bean bag toys.   Then, there are a few things, like Molly’s horseback riding clothes, that we are going to try and sell on eBay.

My back hurts.  This was not an easy day.  But my spirit is okay.  Much as I tried, I couldn’t find Molly in all of her stuff.  She was not there.   But if one child’s day is a little brighter because of a new doll house and some Barbie clothes,  and if another child gets some great horseback riding clothes at a good price, I know that Molly would be pleased with that.  And then maybe, just maybe, I’ll be able to find Molly after all.