When my son was about 3 years old, he attended a pre-school class called Purple Stew. I was keen for him to go because he is an only child and had been cared for at home rather than going to daycare. While other mothers dropped their little ones off at the class or left in the middle to go for coffee, I had to stay put because he was always glancing over to make sure I was still at the back of the room.
When I asked him why he wanted me to be there the whole time and he said” It helps me feel better”. I knew he was a quiet, sensitive kid and thought this meant that he needed me to advocate for him. So, when I noticed that he was having trouble understanding how to “line up” to go to the gym and telling another child that his feelings were hurt when she wouldn’t let him play with the toy kitchen, I would try to intervene. But instead of welcoming my help, he’d look at me with annoyance as if to say, “I’ve got this”.
On another occasion, he was enthusiastically coloring a picture with long messy strokes and one of his classmates commented that he was supposed to color inside the lines. My son shrugged and said, “some people do it that way”. When I think back on it now, I realize that truer words were never spoken, as this has been the theme of his life!
His struggles with his mental health started early and I did everything I could think of to get him help. I insisted that he attend appointments with a psychiatrist he didn’t like, take medication he hated and attend therapy that was not helpful. I was so worried about what would happen to him if we couldn’t get this sorted out.
When we finally found a program that worked, it was clear that while my intentions were good, my approach had been completely wrong. Here, he was not only allowed, but encouraged to take the lead regarding the symptoms that bothered him the most and to choose the options he was willing to try; it was both puzzling and magical. Despite his struggles, he knew himself better than anyone and when he was trusted and supported to pursue what he felt he could engage with, his life and mine got a LOT better.
I had to learn (or relearn as it turns out) to stay in my lane and offer a supportive presence without jumping in to intervene or solve a problem that wasn’t important to him. Only then did I get to see how strong and resourceful and capable he is of managing his own life. Occasionally, I’m asked for some help or invited to share my opinion, but it always works out best when I follow his lead.
His path has definitely been far different than the ones travelled by his peers, and so much different from what I expected it to be. Yet, just as I had hoped, he has found a career he is passionate about, a caring and supportive partner and is determined to keep working through whatever difficulties come his way to have a life worth living. I love him so very much and could not be happier with the way our relationship has evolved – in no small measure, because of his mental illness.
About the Author: Cindy Gerdes credits the Dialectical Behaviour Therapy (DBT) Family Skills she learned during her son’s treatment with transforming her relationship with her son and her husband and permitting them to all work together as a mutually supportive team. As the President and Founder of Lifeboat Family Skills, she now works to helps other families to develop these skills.
