The Differences Make Us Better

Four years ago, I admitted to myself my family was not the status quo. We were so far left of center we no longer even recognized our goal of “normal.” Once I reached my limit, I called my insurance company seeking a list of adolescent psychiatrists. I was determined and called every single provider they listed. Most offices had a lengthy waiting list for new patients. So I kept calling. I needed help quickly. Fearful for my son, there was no luxury of waiting months for an evaluation. We were in a downward spiral, and not changing wasn’t an option. It wasn’t easy to cover my ears and ignore the denials from my husband that our family didn’t have a problem. Yet, I began thinking independently. From that independent thought, I recognized my child as a separate identity from our family unit. That released some shame, embarrassment, and guilt that, as his parent, I felt for not getting it “right.” I understood it was time to focus on my son’s needs. I was willing to try anything to help him. Little did I know it would require having an open mind.

Independent thought led to the realization that we should see a psychiatrist. I must have watched too much ‘Frasier,’ back in the ‘90s. I thought a psychiatrist was talk therapy plus meds. It wasn’t long before I learned that isn’t the case. The psychiatrist I believed I was talking with was instead a psychologist. And he referred me to a new LPC in his practice. We chose her because she had Saturday appointments available. I didn’t do any research regarding this unknown person, which is my customary habit. It was 100% a leap of faith.

Fast forward four years, and I see how each one of those steps could have provided a different outcome. I could have given up when I couldn’t find a psychiatrist, as there were few to choose from those who accepted our insurance back then. Saturday appointments didn’t have to be the deal-breaker for me. What if I saw how young this new therapist was and didn’t return because I thought we couldn’t relate to each other? I could have allowed our cultural differences, many as they were, to dissuade me from starting therapy with her. But if I would have done any of those, I would have missed out, and my son would have too.

This therapist challenged our family and pushed us to our limits, limits of which we were not aware existed. She and I were opposites in almost every way imaginable. She is 20 years my junior, very liberal in her views in life, and we are not of the same race or religion. I am a person with a more conservative approach to life. Any single one of those concerns could have been the end of the relationship before it even started. But today, as I reflect on those differences, I am thankful that I didn’t let the fear of not being the same prevent the more important goal: helping my son, and ultimately my family, find our new normal.

Because of her youth, this therapist could relate to my son in ways I never expected. They bonded over video games! Did I mention she is an avid gamer? I have little tolerance for games but appreciated that she could translate to me what was so important in his life. Because she was young, I didn’t see her worldly experience. As she discussed alternative ways of parenting, they felt like they were from a different generation. It took longer for me to see that the advice she dispensed was not a millennial concept, but practical. We will always disagree on things, but that she and I can talk about those differences is valuable.

As others wander down the overwhelming path of mental healthcare decisions for loved ones, I invite more open-mindedness and risk-taking to the solution. It is intimidating and humbling to display vulnerabilities to a new person. If that person is skillful, it won’t seem like a risk, but something they earn the right to hear. I encourage forming a support team to include professionals who don’t fit our mold. If I enter therapy with the expectation that the sessions will confirm my parenting style is on target, my child is a wild child, and I should receive pity for having to endure family turmoil, what help could that therapist provide? Instead of therapy, which dispenses advice, I am describing an echo chamber.

I respect the therapist who can show me the way to a healthy family is more than “fixing” my problem child. When a therapist is skilled enough to gently but firmly show me the light, to bring me on board by challenging my thought concepts and show me that our problems are much bigger than my wild child, I learn. Through the revelation that the entire family has learned bad habits and coping skills, I see that our family is only as strong as the one who is hurting most. I am unintentionally complicit in my son’s suffering, and I, along with him, will work to strengthen our family. In my case, I carried around a significant amount of denial about our family. I needed someone so vastly different from myself to open my eyes and challenge my tried-and-true parenting beliefs that I clung onto out of desperation.