When the Handbook Runs Out: Kristen’s Story of Parenting Through Mental Illness
- Jan 3
- 3 min read
Kristen’s story began quietly, the way so many do. Her oldest daughter was just 11 when subtle changes started to appear. There were shifts in self-esteem, increasing self-criticism, and frequent talk of self-hate.
“She was 11, and so I got her into therapy,” Kristen recalls. “But things actually got worse before they got better.”
At the time, Kristen did not yet know that risky behaviors had already begun. An unhealthy relationship formed. Her daughter began sneaking out of the house nearly every night. School attendance became an issue. Looking back, Kristen describes it as a sudden and disorienting transformation.
“It felt like I went to bed with a spunky, fun-loving, Jonas Brothers-loving 11-year-old and woke up the next day to a kid who was just very dark.”
At first, Kristen believed this might simply be adolescence. A new friend group. Different music. Pushing against parents. All of it seemed explainable, until the phone call came from the school.
“They found a stockpile of pills in her locker,” Kristen says. “I remember thinking, this is not even anything I understand. I felt completely disoriented.”
Not long after, her daughter attempted suicide for the first time by overdose. Kristen remembers following the ambulance, feeling detached from reality.
“I kept thinking, is this really my life? Is this really her life? What are we dealing with?”
What followed were years marked by repeated suicide attempts, inpatient and partial hospitalizations, and constant medication changes. Kristen quickly learned that parenting a child with mental illness was something no one prepares you for.
“People say you don’t get a handbook for parenting,” she says. “There must be a separate chapter for being a parent to a child who is suffering with mental illness.”
Kristen spent the next decade fighting. Fighting for treatment. Fighting for answers. Fighting for her daughter’s life. She educated herself because she could not rely blindly on professional guidance, some of which proved harmful or misguided.
“I realized very quickly that I needed to educate myself,” she explains. “Not all the advice I was given was good.”
When she turned to her personal support system, the responses often deepened her isolation. “I was told things like, if you had more faith, she would get better,” Kristen says.
“They didn’t know what was happening behind closed doors. There was no support. I didn’t feel like anybody saw me.”
Her daughter received multiple diagnoses, and it became clear that this was not defiance or typical adolescent rebellion. Mental illness was deeply intertwined with everything they were facing.
“There wasn’t enough love to fix this,” Kristen says. “I was trying to convince her to stay alive. And that became my responsibility.” She remembers praying simply to make it through one more day.
“There is no more hopeless feeling in the world than seeing your child feel like they can’t find hope or see a way to tomorrow.”
When The Suffering Sneaks Up On You.
Just as life began to feel slightly lighter, Kristen’s younger daughter attempted suicide. It was completely unexpected.
“I remember thinking, I cannot believe I am living this nightmare again.”
Then, years later, her adult son attempted suicide as well. His struggle was different, more situational as he navigated early adulthood, but the outcome was the same. An overdose. A frantic phone call. A familiar dread.
“I felt that feeling in my stomach. I had felt it before. I knew something had happened.”
Today, her son is thriving after finding the right psychiatrist, therapist, and medication. All four of Kristen’s children are in therapy for different reasons.
Healing, she has learned, is not linear, and it looks different for everyone.
For Kristen, there came a moment of reckoning somewhere between her second daughter’s attempt and her son’s.
“I realized that not only was this my family’s story, but I was the mom they needed to walk them through it,” she says. “I had to accept that this was our story.”
Kristen believes deeply that painful stories are not meant to end in silence.
“If you are given a story, especially one that is so challenging and painful, you need to use it to lift other people up,” she says. “You need to put your arm around them and say, ‘Let’s walk this together.’”
She did not have that kind of support during her journey. That absence is what led her to help create the Salus Collective.
“The vision is that people who are in situations like I have been would not be alone,” Kristen explains. “They would have someone to walk with them.”
Kristen’s story is not one of perfection or easy resolution. It is a story of persistence, love, advocacy, and choosing to turn survival into solidarity. And for families walking similar paths, it is a reminder that while the journey may be isolating, they do not have to walk it alone. Reach out today.
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