The hardest truth I will ever admit, I was that child.

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2012/12/16/i-am-adam-lanzas-mother-mental-illness-conversation_n_2311009.html

 Please read the article above before my response below. I am in no way condoning violent behavior or excusing violence because of a having a mental illness. This is a real issue. This country has a serious problem with how it 'helps' those with mental illnesses. This is very hard for me to admit but I was that child.

 I can remember being very little, maybe no older then 5, and feeling like I was watching myself lose control and not being able to stop it. I would have these tantrums, more like explosions where I would absolutely lose it. I would hit, kick, bite, scream and say terrible unspeakable things to my parents and family. I would destroy things in our home and not feel like I could stop myself at all. My parents many times would have to restrain me until I calmed down and it would stop. It was the scariest thing I have ever been through. I feel like I would turn into this monster that couldn't be controlled. I'd want to stop and calm down but I couldn't. I did not want to hurt or upset my family but I couldn't control myself at all when this happened. I didn't understand why I was the way I was and for a long time I felt alone, confused and scared. I knew that wasn't who I was or wanted to be at all. My parents knew something wasn't normal. They took me to see a child psychiatrist, he was nice from what I remember, but wouldn't try medicating me until I was older. I was seven years old when they did start medicating me. I remember having to swallow six or seven different pills. My parents most times would have to hold me down and make me take them. It was a horrible experience for both them and I. For awhile I think the meds helped, I still had outbursts but I don't think they were as frequent. I am sure they were still just as awful.

When I was in fourth or fifth grade I was hospitalized. I was having a tantrum and I threw a large rock at my fathers head. I didn't want to kill him. I was so lost at that point in whatever had first upset me. I don't even remember what set me off. My parents took me to Four Winds, a psychiatric hospital and from what I remember it wasn't a terribly bad experience. They changed my meds around and had me participate in individual therapy and group therapy with the other kids there. Overall I think it was a safe way for them to try to get me on a medication cocktail that would work. I think I was there for about a month. My parents would visit and call often. I think I was probably mad at first but I can't remember it well. I never felt like seeking revenge for being sent there. I just wanted to be normal. I think from what I can remember for awhile I was after that. I am sure I still had outbursts like that, without the extreme violence.

When I was 13 we moved to New Hampshire. Work was better for my father who is a carpenter, so my mom, sister and I moved with him there. When I started eighth grade the cliques had already formed, everyone already had friends. I was the new girl and the only people who befriended me were mostly other new kids. Most of the 'popular' kids in my grade were cruel. They would tease me at school and on the bus. I was honestly miserable. It didn't help I didn't get along with my cousin who was a year younger and in the same school. He never once stood up for me, even when people he knew or was friends with would bully me in front of him. Towards the end of the school year I was hospitalized twice at Hampstead Hospital. I don't remember why I ended up there, what had set me off and back down that spiral. I do know the people there helped get me back on medication that helped and off I went back to school the following year.

Highschool was hell. I know everyone says that, but to me the absolute worse years of my life were eighth through tenth grade. The students both in my grade and in grades above me treated me like crap. I was bullied constantly, not psychically but verbally. I was called a slut and a whore and I have never had a boyfriend. There were rumors spread that I got knocked up and had an abortion and thats why I wasn't at school for a few months of eighth grade. I hated school. When I finally had a long term boyfriend I was happy with school. He was a person I relied on and had on my side. For awhile things were good and normal again. We had been dating for about a year and a half I believe when I found out some of who I thought were my closest friends threw a party and didn't invite me so he could hook up with an acquaintance of mine. Needless to say he broke up with me. I was completely shattered. That was the first time I tried to commit suicide. I had no friends to turn to and my family didn't seem to understand how hurt I was. I ended up being hospitalized again. Anytime I ended up being hospitalized it had always started with my parents calling the police. They didn't know what else to do. I was out of control and they couldn't stop me and I couldn't stop myself. The police in New York where I grew up from what my parents have told me were sympathetic to the situation and really tried to help my family and I. The police in New Hampshire told my parents I belonged in a juvenile detention facility and if it weren't for the officer that worked with our high school I probably would have ended up there. Officer Levesques knew I wasn't that kind of trouble. I was literally at the police station sitting with my hands zip tied together when he came and talked to the other officers who had brought me there and I'm sure other people on the police force in town who were convinced I should be sent to a detention center. Was I a danger to myself or others, absolutely, when I was loosing control of myself and in the middle of these outbursts but when I wasn't I was just a girl who didn't understand what was happening to herself and was scared of who she might be. I am still so thankful that he saw what was happening with me and knew that that wasn't the case.

My junior year of high school I left Oyster River in Durham, NH and decided to go to a boarding school in Middleboro, MA called F.L. Chamberlain. This is the place I finally gained knowledge and understanding of what was going on and how to live with my diagnoses. This is the place that FINALLY gave me and my family the help we had so desperately needed and been searching for for years. Every kid at my new school had some kind of mental illness. I finally realized how normal I really was, that I wasn't the only kid in the world who took meds or who lost control the way I did. I lived in a house with I believe about 10-12 other kids. We had house parents who would spend the days with us after school and on weekends and house parents who would spend overnights and mornings before school with us. I attended class there and had therapy weekly there. I also participated in different group therapy sessions there. As hard as it was being away from my family and the few friends I had back home that school was the best thing that ever could have happened to me. I met some great people there who I still consider friends and some of the staff members there are people I will forever owe a debt of gratitude. If any of you are reading this THANK YOU! Thank you for helping me grow. Thank you for being a friend. Thank you for teaching me ways to cope and calm myself down. You truly saved me from going down a deeper darker road in life.

After high school and into college life was simply normal. I never lost control again. Never had to be restrained again. I remained on medication and was in therapy for awhile. I have been unmedicated now on and off for about three years and am married and have two beautiful daughters. Once my husband reads this he will know the extent of my struggles of when I was younger. I don't think I have ever in this much detail admitted to anyone who I am or what I have gone through. I haven't even allowed myself to go over my past. Reading that article made me realize its time to let go. I want to share my struggle so that if others read this maybe they will find some help or comfort in knowing they are not alone, so parents like mine may find a little hope that there is help out there, and so I can let go of who I was and find peace with my childhood self. Am I worried my children may have mental health issues, absolutely, but I am armed with the knowledge that there are things I can do to help them if they do. I don't want them to ever feel confused about and scared of themselves like I did.

This country has a issue with how it helps those with mental illnesses. We don't all need to be locked up and kept away from the world, but if help isn't available or affordable how can any of us suffering and want to be different truly change? Some people are suffering in silence not knowing what to do or not being able to afford the resources out there to help themselves. I believe we need to change the way we look at mental illnesses. I believe we need to change how we treat the mentally ill. It's not okay to let people suffer who truly just want to feel normal.