Guest Series #6 - Becs Watson: A Parent of a Mentally Ill Child

Your phone is ringing...

...It’s your daughter

She’s on her way to school, in fact, the bus has probably dropped her off by now. There’s a busy road to cross, and she’s a responsible wee soul so you know she uses the pedestrian crossing at the traffic lights.

You pick up the call. “Hi sweetie, what’s up?”

She’s crying. She’s had a hard morning but you didn’t expect this. And you definitely never expected what comes next…

“Mum, I feel bad. Really, really bad. I’m trying to cross the road and I think I’m going to walk out in front of a car so I can die...Mum, I’m scared.”

She was 10 years old.

To be completely honest I can’t actually remember what I did at this point. I think I kept her on the phone while she crossed the road and went into the classroom. I talked to her while I typed an email to her teacher to let her know what was going on, and that I would be in later in the morning to collect her and take her to an appointment with our doctor. The human brain is really efficient at suppressing memories of traumatic events.

My daughter’s struggle with anxiety reaches right back to September 4th 2010, and the first of the major earthquakes in Christchurch and Canterbury. She was only four then, and we knew she was frightened (we all were!) but no one realised just how much of an impact these natural disasters would have on our kids.

From here on in the anxiety slowly grew. It was just little things to start with and we managed ok. In her final year of primary school things ramped up a bit, but we were managing it still. I have experienced a lot of anxiety and depression, and a lot of therapy, and this was a hugely valuable experience for me to draw on to ensure I was able to support her through this time. What we thought was a separate issue was fussy eating, and I suppose for a long time it was isolated from everything else, however with a resurgence of earthquakes after the Kaikoura quake in 2016, the fussy eating became entwined with the anxiety and grew to be a major issue.

We were at a complete and utter loss. We tried all the things we could think of, which took us from caring and supportive parents, into the realms of raving lunatics! Support, love, and understanding turned into frustration, bribery, and punishment. None of it was effective. After many months of struggle and frustration, pushing our family to near breaking point, we saw a segment on a TV show that changed everything. It introduced us to ARFID - Avoidant Restrictive Food Intake Disorder. A brand new diagnostic category in the DSM-5 (Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders - basically a psychiatrists bible).

ARFID is defined as a persistent disturbance in feeding or eating that results in avoidance of food, leading to weight loss, nutritional deficiency, and/or impairment of psychosocial functioning.

For my daughter this meant a very restricted intake of food, both in quantity and variety - basically just brown and beige food. Think bread, pasta, biscuits, crackers...beige or brown and highly processed. It’s no surprise then that she was tiny, with her lowest official weight at age 12.

The most frustrating thing I experienced during this time was not the fact that she wouldn’t eat, it wasn’t the constantly peaked anxiety, and it wasn’t the constant battle to find new foods that she would try.

The number one most frustrating thing to deal with was the complete and utter lack of support from the public health system.

After visiting our GP and getting a referral to the South Island Eating Disorders Service, we had a long wait to get an assessment appointment. This wasn’t an assessment for diagnosis, it was an assessment by a social worker to see if she was ‘bad enough’ to be seen by a doctor. Of course she was, so another long wait ensued for a specialist appointment. All up we waited for almost a year before she was seen, and that was with me calling and badgering them constantly about getting her seen.

It was a long road to get her eating again, but one thing I was (and still am) thankful for is that this ARFID diagnosis came from her anxiety and her need to control something in her life, because she couldn’t control what mother nature was doing to her sense of security. There were, and aren’t, any underlying issues about body image or weight. In fact she really dislikes the fact that she is a lot smaller than the majority of her peers.

As mother the impact this has had on me is huge.

To see my child suffering, to see her go to battle with her own mind is not something that is easy to watch. There wasn’t much I could do apart from support her, love her, and educate her about why it is important that she nourishes her body. I stopped working full time so I could be more present for her, I cooked and baked anything and everything I thought she would eat, I promised rewards and prizes for each new weight gain goal, and each new food tried. I gave everything I had. It cost me my job. It cost me many hours of sleep. It cost me a reasonable part of my own sanity. But now she is well, and every moment, every sacrifice was worth it.

There isn’t any way to describe what it’s like to watch your own child suffer. I cannot put into words how it makes you feel inside when your child says they hate themselves, they believe they are useless, they aren’t good for anything, and that they want to die.

That day when she called me before school. When she felt the overwhelming urge to walk out in front of a car. When she felt so bad she wanted to die...that changed me. I will always carry the guilt of sending her to school that day, after she was so upset getting ready and telling me she felt anxious and “really, really bad”. I will always wish I had kept her home and just hugged her all day so she knew she was loved. I will always wish I could take that day away so she never had to experience how it feels to want to die, and I knew how bad that feels because I have been there myself. But there’s another side to this coin. I know that she feels safe enough to reach out to me when she can’t cope. I know she feels able to ask for help. I know she is strong enough to move through those completely overwhelming moments, and I know that all she needs is my voice and my love to give her the strength she needs to see that light at the end of the tunnel.

Thank-you so much Becs for such an honest and heart-touching account of the struggles your daughter faced with her anxiety and eating disorder, and for being so transparent and raw in the realities of a parent to a child with mental illness.

I didn't want to do my intro to this piece in the beginning, because it is such a powerful read that still makes my stomach feel like its on a roller-coaster. The truth is, this is what so many parents face. My parents, yours perhaps, and so many others. We know about the struggles of those fighting the illness, but we don't really discuss and look beyond this to those caring for them. As Becs said - you sacrifice your job, income, relationship with other children or your spouse, and even your sanity; all in attempt to save the life of your child when they do not want to do it for themselves.

I am very fortunate enough that Becs will be featuring again on the blog, and am so looking forward to bringing you all that piece too.

Until next time.

Your friend, Rawing Meg xx