My sweet buddy Carson has been struggling for some time. I had my doubts about writing all of this down, but hiding his health issue would be the same as saying that I was embarrassed of it, and I am not. I never want him to be embarrassed either and I never want him to feel the sting of loneliness that can come when one feels their diagnosis is somehow unique.
Carson is one of what I imagine to be tens, if not hundreds of thousands of children who suffers with extreme anxiety, and likely depression. This isn't something that just popped up out of the blue. We have been aware of the anxiety for many years. I've known that at some point that he would need treatment beyond what I could give him and that it would mean putting him on medications to treat what I believe is a chemical imbalance. That time has come. After dealing with some very volatile, uncontrollable behavior, Jeff and I checked Carson into the hospital for treatment.
|Waiting for admission to the mental health unit.|
I vacillate between confidence that the right choice has been made, to thinking that it seems like overkill to hospitalize a little ten year old for psychological help. I blame myself for neglecting to get him help until he was in crisis mode. Leaving him there was leaving a piece of my heart. Hopefully, he will be home soon, ready to be part of a family that functions as a unit. I look forward to his return and bringing with him the piece of my heart that is missing.
I look forward to being whole again.