I’ve been plagued over the past few weeks by reruns of incidents from the last few years. They literally keep replaying over and over in my head. It’s like the worst kind of TV, where nothing new gets shown and you know the lines word for word, plot scene by scene.
Except that these bring remorse, regret and if onlys.
If only when her psychiatrist had offered the red pill – a small room in schools – or the blue pill – signing her off school and getting her help at home – that we’d picked the blue pill.
If only for those 18 days where I had to sleep on her bedroom floor and someone had to be in the same room as her 24/7 because she was so afraid of what she might do to hurt herself that I’d rung the GP/CAMHS/Psychiatrist.
If only I’d understood the purpose of the GP’s letter that should have said she was unfit for school.
If only.
Now, I understand that hindsight is a ‘wonderful’ thing. The benefit of hindsight is what I know nowadays. My endless research and reading and learning, as well as listening to others who have been on a similar journey.
The problem is, hindsight is also poisonous. All these if onlys are polluting my thoughts, destroying what little trust I have left in myself to do the right thing by my daughter. If I got those things wrong, what else was wrong?
It’s not all about blaming myself. Why didn’t others explain or suggest what I should do?
Let’s unravel the three key reruns that are on repeat in my head…
She’d run out of school one day. LIterally fled because she could do it no more. School staff didn’t know… I had to phone and tell them. She’d messaged in a panic after she’d fled, because she didn’t know what to do after that.
The next time we saw her psychiatrist after this, she offered her two options.
“We can either ask school to provide a small room so she can be at school and work on her own, with someone checking on her regularly to make sure she understands the work, or we can put in a request that she’s supported at home. However [and this is the crux of the ‘if only’], this could take some time.”
The choice wasn’t mine. It was my daughter’s.
At this point in time, she was desperate to be at school. To be ‘normal’, to be with her friends and to learn.
So she chose the red pill. My task was to request this, despite my misgivings. But no-one wanted her to miss school. The repercussions of this choice are, to my mind, far-reaching and damaging.
Who’s to say what would have happened if we’d chosen the blue pill?
The second rerun – those dark days of suicidal and self-harm thoughts that were so powerful that she didn’t feel safe on her own – are for me the most distressing. Her psychiatrist chided me when we did see her a couple of weeks later that I hadn’t called her immediately.
My overriding thought at the time was to keep her safe. Who could do that better than us, as a family?
I suppose I did consider phoning someone, but I was equally scared what would happen if I did. Would she be locked away, having to stay in a hospital, medicated or restrained?
I confided in her support worker at school. Told the deputy head, too. Yet no-one there said to phone for help.
But what if we had phoned the CAMHS crisis team? What might have happened? Would she have been on their radar since?
Then there’s the last one. This magic ‘not fit for school’ letter that GPs know nothing about, and insist shouldn’t be requested, yet schools and LAs across the country seem to require before any kind of EOTAS (education otherwise than at school) can be put in place.
When the SENCO told me to go to the GP, I was definitely not sane of mind. Our lives had unravelled to the point that I was physically and mentally exhausted. My daughter was, frankly, in a complete state of burnout, having tried and fought to go to school for nearly 12 months. The rollercoaster that we’d been on was neverending and all-consuming.
I did ask what would happen if we did manage to get the letter. The SENCO simply said, well we’ll see what the doctor says, first. So I went no really understanding the why. And inevitably when the doctor asked me why we needed the letter, I didn’t have an answer for her.
The letter, despite saying that most days she was too unwell for school, was insufficient for the SENCO’s mysterious purposes. [This document was also reported in the school’s EHCP report as saying that she was fit for school, but that post is for another day.]
What if I’d really understood the purpose of the letter? What if I’d gone back to the GP and explained it better? What if I’d done more to fight?
The problem was, I had no fight left. I was completely empty.
When I look back, these three events have been significant forks in the road, that have led to difficult paths. There’s no guarantee that the other paths would have been better. But if only…
I have no idea whether this is normal to keep rerunning incidents over and over in your head. Normal or not, I know that it’s not healthy. Hindsight is like a know-all onlooker, passing judgement on our actions and decisions. That ‘friend’ that tells you after the event that the outcome was always going to be that way. Well, I don’t need that kind of friend right now. But I do need help to work through the if onlys. I need them out of my head.