i couldn’t wait to get into my car after leaving north york general hospital’s youth adolescent mental health unit. my 14-year-old daughter, maddie, had been staying there for the past month after her second suicide attempt.
i wanted to sequester myself from any onlooking and scrutinizing eyes. when you are dealing with a child that questions whether she wants to live or not, as a parent, it is the most painful thing imaginable. four months had elapsed since maddie’s first attempt, and i couldn’t say confidently we were progressing.
i opened the car door, fell into the front seat, put my face in my hands, and started to cry. i wanted to believe that maddie would get better and that everything would be fine the next time i visited. we had visited maddie every day since she was readmitted to the hospital, and truthfully, i left every day feeling completely gutted.
the staff in the unit were amazing; they were compassionate and dedicated. as a parent, i didn’t want to stop believing this would end positively. each tear shed represented a thousand fears going through my head. as a parent, when your child is struggling, you can’t help but be affected; it truly is death by a thousand cuts. you would accept this willingly if it guaranteed a positive ending, but there are no guarantees regarding mental health.