The Journey of Mr. I 

I was mesmerized by precious, tiny toes and long, skinny fingers. While kissing every toe and finger from the day my son was born, I, like most mothers, rocked my fragile bundle of joy to sleep singing nursery rhymes — dreaming of a beautiful future with so much hope and love. I never envisioned anything different.

Mr. I's energy was beyond my ability to keep up, and I thought I was having children at a young age! I remember attempting to be creative when he was younger.  I would take the kids outside and let them run "wild." They would run laps around the pool until they were exhausted. They enjoyed it, but not as much as I did! Ready, set, GO!  After 10 laps, four of our five children dropped out. I lost track after 14! There was no stopping Mr. I. He would just keep going, like the Energizer Bunny.  He only stopped when I told him the race was over, but his energy remained. 

As a mother who has been through the initial stages of diagnosis, medication lists, trial and error, and doctor after doctor, I would like to begin by telling you to ALWAYS trust your instincts.  If you do not feel comfortable with the provider who is looking after your child, it is time to look elsewhere.  Starting out, I had no idea where to begin, and I was simply too naive to believe that every doctor knew what was best for my child and could help me figure it out.  Unfortunately, you will encounter many doctors who are neither skilled nor prepared to point you in the right direction. 

I understand that many people will have different perspectives on what I am about to discuss.  The image above shows my son's arm with the words "dam you". He was discharged from an inpatient facility and given the label "stable." He walked out in pure filth with this writing on his arms describing how he was feeling about himself. There were obvious signs of neglect on their part; I just do not understand how this appears stable to anyone for a young child. He was clearly unstable based on the appearance of his arms, filth on his face, clothing stains, the smell of the items returned home, and his mood immediately after walking out.

Mr. I's school days dwindled by the age of eight, and he went years without attending public school due to his aggression and stability. His disorders had overtaken his small body and mind. His actions were overly irrational. We were frantically trying to do everything to help him find calm. His sensory overloads and struggles with regulating were too far beyond his control.  His outbursts and aggression had increased, and he began to feel like a bad kid among his peers. His medications at the time played mind games with him, and he became increasingly suicidal and homicidal, as well as beginning to hallucinate.  Through it all, I realized that the most valuable piece was missing from within myself. My very special child taught me the most valuable lesson. We have spent the last few years working hard to teach him how to use his words. He lacked the understanding to express his emotions and thoughts in words. He believed that his thoughts could be seen. He simply believed that everyone knew what he was thinking.  After four years of exhausting service, he achieved stability. He had regained his self-confidence and was ready to start again. He was eager to show everyone who he was, but he was terrified. His school was hesitant to accept him back for the academic year 2021-2022. He was ready, so there was no stopping us now. We worked hard and made many changes in our lives.  He felt ready, at 12 years old, and the only thing holding him back was his school's preparation for him. We had a lot of work to do. 

Something beautiful happened yesterday and it brought me to tears.  While I have begun to share our journey, my son is well aware of why I am doing what I do. He has been helpful in accepting and understanding why I created a website to give others a voice .  After years of being in crisis mode and watching my child fight for life, we have reached the stage of recovery and acceptance. He faced a long battle and felt as if no one would help him.  This strong urge and feeling hit me like a ton of bricks, confirming that we had found our purpose. We wanted to end the silence. I told Mr. I that I would give him a section to add anything he felt was necessary. I will not alter his writing or correct his spelling because it is his. He even added a picture to match his momma. This is my son's beautiful mind at work, and that is all that is required. If you have been following along, you will understand when I say he is my perfect "imperfectly perfect" son, which is fine. He has trouble writing by hand, but if you give him a keyboard and a computer, he can tell you a story. I could not be more proud of my child. I am not sure how often he will write. Regardless, this message is lovely, and I felt compelled to share it. He just decided what he was going to write. I had no idea what he had in mind to say. 

Yesterday, while attending my oldest son's graduation, I was afraid I would have to miss another event. I didn't; I was a proud mom! Usually, the crowd causes Mr. I to become extremely anxious. If it is not the crowd, it could be the sound of people laughing echoing through a gym, bands playing music, or the choir singing. Sitting in one place for an extended period of time may cause boredom. In some cases, I push a little harder because I always miss out on important moments in my other children's lives. It is difficult to miss out, but I am Mr. I's calm. He and I have been doing this since he was young. Instead of panicking, he sat calmly with his little blue bunny, his main interest (Toy Bonnie). He held his phone in his hand, waiting for the right moment to take pictures of his older brother. He suddenly became his brother's biggest fan. My heart melted yesterday as he inquired about graduation and quietly discussed his "one day when". I used to wonder if there could ever be a "one day when."