Have you ever woken up utterly disappointed with your life? How did I get here? Is this all there is? There HAS to be something more than the monotony of doing the same thing, day in and day out, feeling like you have absolutely no conviction about anything. This is where I might insert a relatable verse of scripture if I could recite the bible better. I'm still a work in progress as far as that is concerned, but I have been provided with the rhyme and reason to the rest of this beautiful existence I've been given.
My life has fallen apart and been crudely pieced back together so many times that if I could have figured out a way to make a career out of it, I wouldn't be writing this blog right now, at least not from here. I'd be on my own personal island in an undisclosed location and the substance of what you are reading right now would sound a whole lot different. The art of taking my broken pieces and cementing them back into place has become a practiced art. That's why when I couldn't fit the fragmented parts of my girl back where they belonged, I felt powerless. She was defenseless to the gray manifesting itself inside of her and I was incapable of fighting it for her. I had known failure before, plenty of it; but I should have been able to repair the shattered glass that seemed to make up the components of her mind. I'm her mom, right? Her keeper, her safe place. I now know how much bigger this all is than I am and I was never going to be able to battle that which I could not see on my own.
Her story is going to be one of hope. I refuse to accept anything less than that. The glory of that story will all be given to the only One who deserves it. She has been given a clean slate and I fully feel with every fiber of my being that she will experience true healing in her new, temporary home. I know her life will never be "normal" (whatever that means), but I think we are on the right road to finding out what it does mean for her. I would never have expected to find the driving force that keeps me awake at night and courses through my veins from what could potentially have been an absolutely devastating (I don't know if there is an adjective deserving enough of how almost losing a child changes one's life) chapter in my book that has already been predetermined for me. It's incredible to be in the midst of transformation the way I am currently. I know Kayleigh is not the only one at war inside. I know you don't want to hear that. Neither do I. I need you to understand that there are children (and when I say children, I mean seven and eight year olds) and young adults RIGHT HERE IN OUR COMMUNITY who are trying to take their lives. Some have been on life support, numerous have received that 10-13 code that requires these children AND their guardians to remain in the emergency room a ridiculous amount of time until a bed is found in a crisis stabilization unit, some are suffering in complete silence. The crushing weight of the burdens our children are bearing are more than we know. We are not listening. They cry out to us in so many different ways and we do not seem to hear them. We shake our heads and tell them to be tougher when they share that their peers are using words that hurt. In Kayleigh's case, she was told by her "friends" that she needed another brain surgery and that she should just go kill herself. She heard this kind of hate over and over, for years. Do you think she should "just get over it"? Is that how we handle this? Why are we so afraid to teach our children about compassion? Why is it not okay to FEEL, really feel things? What about those that are dealing with constant anxiety from the pressures we place on them to perform above and beyond in their academics? We train them to set the bar high and I totally agree; but it's becoming evident that sometimes we are neglecting the needs of what it actually takes to get them there. This kind of stress is unavoidable in the school system, but it has become so incredibly heightened that the direct correlation between this sort of stress and imbalanced mental health is increasing with staggering statistics. Heaven forbid your child come home questioning their sexual identity. When did we stop becoming their safe place? When did the homes that we raised them in, watching them take their first steps and say their first words in, become so closed off with an impenetrable barrier when it comes to communication? We complain about today's society (I'm totally guilty of this), the influx of social media's impact on their brains and who they become, anything we can project upon besides ourselves.
I want to change that. I want to get our kids back. I know you want that too. I have felt an urgency, a fire I cannot extinguish, since Kayleigh decided she wanted to take her own life. I have had you reach out to me with your own stories, ones that I would never expose, and my heart cried out for you and your child each time. Listen, I know we can't change the world, but what if we could change our part of it? I have ideas I would like to see implemented into our school systems, ways that we can give our kids the resources they need to channel the way they are feeling in a productive and positive way. There is a vision I have for the execution of safe zones in our schools, programs formulated to promote kindness among peers by working together instead of against each other, maybe even a social center where these positive behaviors can be carried out after school hours as well. I know I put a spotlight on my family that will soon fade. My fear is that it won't be replaced with the hope for others I am pushing for. I can't do it alone. I am committed to being a voice for the unheard, the ones that can't or won't speak for themselves and I will give everything I have to seeing the progression of my cause. I encourage you to step outside of your sanctuary of thinking what has happened to our family cannot happen to yours. My posts and this blog are not for attention, but to get your attention. My child has been a victim of a broken system. I would like to bring tools to repair that system so that is no longer splintered and does not fail yours. Hope for the hopeless.
Constant Kindness Can Accomplish Much