My daughter wasn’t a baby who walked early. In fact, she wasn’t really interested in walking at all. She was happy to crawl around on all fours, fast as lightning, to get to where she wanted to go. Once she started to furniture walk, it took her months before she finally let go to take her first independent steps. I remember it like it was yesterday. She was holding onto her grandma’s fingers, and then, with loving reassurance from the woman who had such an impact on her life – let go. I was close by, camera at the ready. I knew that if I was holding onto her she would have never let go. She, and I, would have prolonged this next crucial stage of her development. I was excited for her to get to that stage, but found it hard to face the reality of it at the same time. My baby was growing up, she would be a ‘toddler’, it was all going so fast. But I knew that I had to let go. So I did.

I had no idea how profound this moment would be over the course of not only my daughter’s life, but to the survival of my relationship with her.

Now, on the brink of turning 25, my daughter is ready to start telling her story. Her lived experience of suffering with mental health issues, undiagnosed disorders and how that led to a crippling and life altering drug and alcohol addiction. I stand with her, and I’m insanely proud of her brave decision. I have my own story too.

Parenting a child and young adult through mental illness and addictions is indescribable. Your heart is always broken; you are in a state of constant grief mixed with anger, exhaustion and unbridled worry. And most of all, you are terrified. Terrified of the phone ringing, a knock on the door, an unexpected visitor – expecting that phone call, that visitor, is the one. That one message that keeps you up at night – the message that your daughter is gone.

I can’t breathe. I’ve been saying that for the past five years. It is the only way I’ve found to describe what goes on inside me during those times.

I’ve felt unable to tell my story because it is so entwined with her story. A story that was, and is, not mine to tell. That is going to change. As she tells her story, I will follow up with a post of my own, from the mother’s perspective. We hope doing this will not only be healing and cathartic for us, but helpful to others. I have pages and pages and pages, but I will only go so far as to what she is ready to share. It is my sincere hope and prayer that she feels able to be as authentic as possible.

Stay tuned and follow her on robynfloraca.wordpress.com.