Last year, my daughter, Jennifer, now six, had the same wonderful kindergarten teacher who’d taught her brother two years before. This teacher disciplined the class by using green, yellow, red, and blue signals. Each child began the day with his or her name on the green signal. If a child had to be told a second time to do something, he would have to move his name to the yellow signal. If he had to be asked a third time, he had to move his name to red. If it happened yet again, the child went to blue, and a note would be sent home.
When our son was in kindergarten, my wife and I used to ask how his day had gone. “Green!” he would usually say, proudly. Occasionally, he’d say, “Yellow,” with some chagrin; rarely, he’d mumble, “Red.”
One day he brought home a note saying he had crossed over to blue. I reassured him that everyone has off days. As long as it didn’t happen regularly, this was nothing to worry about. Secretly, my wife and I were pleased: “Our boy is human after all!”
Fast-forward two years. On her first day of kindergarten, Jennifer went to the red signal. On her second day, she came home with a “blue note” (the first of many). In April, Jennifer became the first kindergartener my wife and I have ever heard of to be suspended from school.
More than defiance
Jennifer has had behavioral problems almost all of her short life. By age two, her inability to follow directions, sit still, steer clear of dangerous situations, and learn from her mistakes had gone far beyond what we know as the “terrible twos.” In preschool, she could take the little plastic balls out of the ball pit — but wouldn’t put them back when asked. When her teachers sang, Clean up, clean up, everybody everywhere / Clean up, clean up, everybody do your share, she would not do her share. My wife and I simply assumed that she had a rebellious streak.
Then she was diagnosed with ADHD.
From this diagnosis (and countless therapy sessions), my wife and I learned that Jennifer wouldn’t do what she was told because ADHD made it impossible to do what she was told. She couldn’t focus enough to finish simple tasks, like putting away the pieces of a four-piece puzzle. One of us would have to get down on the floor with her and take her through the process, one step at a time. We also realized that the reason Jennifer could not go to sleep was that her mind couldn’t shut down.
A double diagnosis
A few months after her fifth birthday, Jennifer was diagnosed with bipolar disorder. I certainly had heard of it. But even after speaking with therapists, I was unsure of what it was — and unconvinced that my daughter had it. I could not accept the fact that my beautiful daughter could have a mental illness that is lifelong and incurable. Using the words “mental illness” in referring to my own flesh and blood was too painful. Bipolar disorder causes severe mood swings, often to the point of rendering its victims unable to function. The highs and lows can destroy relationships, hinder academic performance, and make it nearly impossible to hold a job. People with the disorder face the risks of substance abuse, hypersexuality, and — most worrisome — suicide. Did you get all that? I’m still not sure that I have.
The good news is that bipolar disorder is treatable. With the right combination of medication and therapy, people who have it can lead productive lives.
At first, I was opposed to medicating Jennifer for either ADHD or bipolar disorder. She continued to fidget, lose her focus, and obsess about big things (like death) and little things (play dates). But I could not help feeling that the real problem was that my wife and I simply didn’t know how to parent a highly spirited child. I believed (or wanted to believe) that the only thing wrong with Jennifer was that she was a boundary-testing pain-in-the-neck. And I thought that pills would turn her into a zombie, like those in Night of the Living Dead.
I also feared that medication might cause Jennifer to harm herself. Ten years ago, not long after his 30th birthday, a close friend — good job, great-looking, fun to be with — hanged himself after stopping his antidepressant. None of us knew he’d been depressed, much less that he’d been taking meds.
The turning point
With the assent of her therapist, we held off medicating our daughter for several months. But we had a change of heart when she was suspended from kindergarten for trashing her classroom.
Jennifer had returned to the room after school had let out and turned it upside down, upending chairs, ripping posters off walls. When my wife went to pick her up, Jennifer came clean about what she had done. As she described it, the mess had been caused by a monster — and it pained her to realize, and to admit, that she was the monster. Within days of the suspension, Jennifer began taking an antipsychotic drug to treat bipolar. A few weeks later, she started taking an antidepressant, as well.
It’s been eight months since she went on medication, and Jennifer — now in first grade — is better. Yes, she still needs help with simple tasks, like getting dressed. Yes, her obsessions persist; she’ll go to bed thinking about something, and it’ll be the first thing she mentions when she wakes up. And if something doesn’t go her way, she talks about how stupid she is. But my wife and I have noticed that she is much better at focusing, listening, and doing the right thing. So have her teachers.
Still, I worry about Jennifer when I think about what happened to my friend. Maybe if he had not taken antidepressants, he would be alive today. Then again, maybe he would have killed himself long before if he hadn’t taken them. But is there an alternative to drug therapy? If so, would it be safer? These are questions I think about every day.
Jennifer’s therapist says that, by putting her on medication, we’re not just restoring balance to her topsy-turvy world — we’re saving her life. I want to believe this, but I’m not entirely sure. One thing is certain: My wife and I will never stop trying to do the right thing for our daughter. Anything less would be a crime.
My wife and I have noticed that she is much better at focusing, listening, and doing the right thing. So have her teachers.
Names have been changed.
This article comes from the April/May 2007 issue of ADDitude. To read this issue of ADDitude in full, purchase the back issue and SUBSCRIBE NOW to ensure you don't miss a single issue.
