I was pondering this week’s blog and struggling for a topic. I didn’t want to do an update on my recent post, because nothing exciting has happened in the last week. I am finding that coming up with content seems to be a big issue for a weekly blog and really do need to plan!
Then, like fate had pushed her, my youngest daughter walked into the room – latest fridge bounty in one hand, life support mobile in the other. And suddenly, I had my topic. No, it was not about teenagers and mobile phones, but how to parent while mentally unwell.
To save you some time, I have not got the answers, only how I have managed as a parent for the last sixteen years while battling a cacophony of lunacy.
I do think that this is an important topic to discuss. Parenting is hard when you are living with any illness, physical or not. The long hours, poor pay, and absolutely no thanks from the little screaming poo machines, will try the most able-bodied person to breaking point. Doing it while dealing with any neurodiversity makes it so much harder.
For myself, I have endeavoured to shield my children from Crazy Dad. This was easy when they were younger and didn’t understand or notice anything outside their sphere of interest. Now they are teens, it is getting difficult; the questions are going from Dad’s grumpy to, why is Dad grumpy? I am finding it harder and harder to hide the truth from them as they get older as I don’t want them to know that dad isn’t grumpy, he is just trying to survive the day. So, while I can, I hide my true self from them; tell a lie about a bad day at work, or some other tall tale.
Now, I know some of you probably do not agree with me. That you probably feel I should be open and honest with them. Let me explain why I hide.
Selfishly, I find it embarrassing. In my opinion, dads are supposed to be big and tough, especially when they have daughters. They need to be a role model on what a man is, a standard to hold future male partners to. And before you start screaming, ‘but, Steve, they may be gay,’ I’m not massively worried about the lesbians of this world, unless they were born with a penis.
“It is easier to build strong children than to repair broken men”
Frederick Douglass.
I want them to know that a man needs to be strong, but sensitive. Loyal, but free thinking. Kind, but firm. Not afraid of conflict and fearless in protecting those he loves. Crickey, there are probably a thousand other contradictory macho words I could use, but it all comes down to making sure that when they meet a man that doesn’t treat them properly, they leave him.
I don’t want them to see a dad that’s afraid to leave the house, scared of his fear and occasionally contemplating suicide. I want them to live the myth of Super Dad for as long as possible. To be honest with you, apart from the mental illness, I think I am a good dad. And I do know that when the time comes, I will open up to them about why I wanted to hide the truth. Like the lie of Father Christmas, I hope they understand that it was for noble reasons.
What other challenges have I faced.
I have missed key events, such as plays and presentations. I haven’t gone to their parents’ evenings, and I don’t socialize with other parents – although, that’s probably not a problem. I’ve never met such a venomous pit of fakery as the school gates at kicking out time! My kids have missed holidays or have had to go with just Mum. I know lots of Dad’s miss those things through choice – career and the like – I would have gone if I could.
The other issue I find is remoteness. I don’t mean physical distance, where we are in different countries. I’m talking about the remoteness born from your own despair; your body is present, but the mind has checked out. I can sit in the room with my children and not feel connected to them. It’s a horrid form of mental distance; I want to be there, to enjoy that unique moment, but I cannot, and I hate it.
I think what I am trying to say is that I had a model of the parent I wanted to be, and I haven’t met those standards due to my illness.
I have, however, done my best and that is all I can do. (By the way, I don’t always believe I have, quite often I consider myself a failure as a parent.)
What have I learnt?
I’ll summarise it into points.
Your approach will depend on your kid and your ailment, but some general tips that helped me are:
- Be kind to yourself. There’s no such thing as a perfect parent. Do your best.
- Compare yourself to no-one. See above. Those super mums and dads you meet are full of crap. They are just doing what I call a ‘Facebook’, That is, showing off their best bits to the world – peacocking my Grandparents used to call it. Also, that goes for the well-meaning fools that drown you in advice. Listen, evaluate to see if what they say is useful, then move on. You do not have to take their advice.
- Take life one day at a time and congratulate yourself for each day, good or bad. A terrible day will end.
- Accept some days will be good, some bad and others down-right terrible. Just do your best and see point one.
- Establish routines. Tea, breakfast, bath etc. at the same time. Kids love routine, and it takes to load off you when you are struggling to function as you don’t need to think.
- Eat well, exercise and take time to be something other than being a parent – if possible.
Most importantly, get a support network. Especially if you are a single parent or your partner is not helping you. You really do need someone to vent at or can support you when you are at your lowest. My Wife has been that for me and still is, so I consider myself to be very lucky.
” Remember, no one is born a parent. We become one overnight.”
Quote by me!
Remember, no one is born a parent. We become one without any training. This is especially true for dads.
Finally, I did find this page from Mind useful recently.
This illness has ruined so many aspects of parenthood for me or made them harder than necessary. I feel cheated, robbed of things I would like to have done with my kids. Another part of me, though, is proud. My children love me, feel free to be open with me, and are happy.
So, I can’t be doing too badly at this parenting lark.
Steve.