When you discover a psychiatric bed for your child, the journey doesn’t end there. In North Carolina, a week-long stay in such a facility often results in little more than a handful of medications and a brief summary of what may be one of the most challenging experiences of your life.
After my partner and I dropped off our son, Ethan, three hours from home at a psychiatric hospital—following his distressing psychotic episode at school and a grueling wait of 256 hours—we were filled with anxiety and sadness. Ethan was transported by authorities, while we attempted to distract ourselves on the drive with a podcast, hoping to ease the tension.
Our visit was just ten minutes long, during which he pleaded with us not to leave, his eyes red from exhaustion and distress. I assured him I would write him every day, expressing my unwavering love, and we cycled through familiar reassurances.
Ethan: “This feels like a punishment.”
Me: “It’s not a punishment; it’s a consequence. You know why you’re here.”
Ethan: “Yeah.”
Me: “We need to prevent what happened at school from recurring, right?”
Ethan: “Yeah.”
Though he’s typically composed, I witnessed him cry more in those ten days than I ever had before. Signing the admission paperwork felt surreal, as if I were placing him in prison rather than seeking help. The restrictions were strict: no personal items deemed dangerous, no hardcover books, and no comfort objects. I understood the rationale behind these precautions—safety for both staff and patients—but the lack of empathy from the facility’s staff was disheartening.
Phone communication was limited to two calls a week, each lasting only five minutes, and visits were confined to twenty minutes on Sundays. Throughout the last month—and especially the past eleven years—I’ve learned that addressing mental health challenges requires collaboration. Unfortunately, the center in Jacksonville didn’t embrace this concept.
In the weeks following Ethan’s discharge, we rushed to various medical appointments, trying to navigate the aftermath of his stay. The facility had prescribed the wrong medication, leading to severe vomiting that lasted three days. Thankfully, our pediatrician caught the mistake, but we quickly learned that Ethan had been put on too many different medications simultaneously, necessitating a complicated adjustment process. Each day felt like a precarious balancing act.
To summarize, during his time at the psychiatric facility, Ethan received a high dosage of antipsychotics, spent the week overwhelmed with tears, and was sent home with a label of “stability.” Discharge took only four minutes, and despite my daily letters, he didn’t receive any until just before he returned home. We later discovered that many of his clothing items had been rejected, leaving him in the same tattered shorts throughout his stay. The few comforts we tried to send were never delivered.
While some staff members were genuinely helpful, the majority treated us as adversaries rather than partners in Ethan’s care. It became clear to my partner and me that despite our love and dedication, we were ill-equipped to handle Ethan’s mental health challenges, particularly his disruptive mood dysregulation disorder (DMDD). This condition, still relatively new in the mental health landscape, can escalate from mild anxiety to uncontrollable rage in a matter of moments.
We find ourselves in a relentless struggle against Ethan’s mental illness, a battle that we cannot abandon, nor do we wish to. He is still growing and developing, and sometimes, I believe he doesn’t fully grasp the gravity of his situation, so burdened by anxiety and executive functioning challenges. This is why we sought help at the emergency room; we needed support.
As his mother, I will always be his strongest advocate. Even when he feels our decisions are punitive, he knows I will stand by him. During our phone calls from the facility, his heart-wrenching words, “Mom, I just miss you so much,” revealed a depth of emotion he hadn’t acknowledged before.
Despite his progress, Ethan now experiences significant anxiety about medical visits. Each appointment brings its own set of challenges, and while he has expressed his love for me more frequently, he faces daily struggles. Some days feel like a minute-by-minute battle, and we can’t always predict the outcomes.
We had hoped for compassion and understanding from the psychiatric facility, but instead, we encountered disappointment and more evidence that our journey was only beginning. Was it worth it? Not in the slightest. The psychiatric bed experience largely felt like a wasted opportunity. Although not every facility operates this way, the system leaves parents with limited options, resulting in a scenario where hundreds of children compete for a single bed only to emerge medicated, disoriented, and confused.
Liam’s favorite band is Coldplay, and their song “Fix You” resonates deeply with the emotional landscape of parenting a child with mental illness. For families grappling with similar challenges, the emotional toll is something only they can truly understand. People often express sympathy by saying, “I can’t imagine,” but I do. I live it daily, facing the potential for emergencies with every phone call and the dread of new side effects.
Through this tumultuous experience, I’ve learned I am not alone. Many parents feel isolated and exhausted from the daily fight for their children’s well-being. The state of healthcare in the United States is disheartening, and many are shocked that children are treated this way.
We cannot fix the broken healthcare system overnight, but we can advocate for more schools like the one Ethan attends, Hope Creek Academy, which has provided him with a semblance of childhood. The struggle within traditional schools can strip away joy, leaving children like him feeling depleted.
So, my advice? Seek out your community. Connect with those who understand your journey. It may not always be family, and they may not be nearby, but we need that support. We must unite to demand better education and healthcare for our children. They are only kids for a short time, and they are remarkable, yet delicate beings.
In conclusion, while the path forward remains fraught with challenges, the importance of community and understanding cannot be overstated. Raising awareness and advocating for change is essential for the future of children facing mental health issues.