Embracing Joy, Part 1

When your kid struggles with mental health, joy can feel out of reach. But is it?

Feb 25, 2024

I couldn’t stop smiling after reading Diana’s message.

“My daughter has been home for a week and she’s doing well. She’s eating and she’s happier. I can’t believe it! Yay!”

After walking with Diana through the wrenching process of sending her daughter to a residential eating disorders treatment center, this was the best news. For weeks, Diana had been filled with paralyzing fear, unable to sleep at night or take a deep breath during the day. Trying to balance a full-time job and parenting other kids in addition to her eating disordered teen made it all harder. Tears came easily as she fought through the overwhelm. Most of all, she worried about bringing her daughter home. What if the tools that her daughter learned at treatment failed her at home? How would Diana manage if her daughter relapsed?

My daughter is doing well. She’s eating and she’s happier. I can’t believe it!

For those of us parenting teens with mental health issues, happiness and joy can feel foreign. Because we’ve been steeped in fear, grief and anger, happiness often appears like a long-lost friend that we don’t quite know how to entertain. It can feel scary to let go of pain and celebrate the victories. Sometimes we hesitate to embrace joy because we’re afraid that whatever we’re celebrating won’t last. Maybe this has happened before: we laud our teen’s progress, only to see them relapse soon afterwards. Sometimes we struggle to get excited about our teen’s improving health because we’re so conscious of how much farther they need to go. For instance, I was somewhat excited when my bulimic daughter became healthy enough to eat a snack without my supervision. But the fact that she was still miles away from eating full meals and going to the bathroom independently dampened my enthusiasm. Sometimes we carry a kind of trauma ourselves from supporting a child with a chronic, life-threatening illness which prevents us from relaxing into a deep smile.

Why Joy is Essential for Parents Like Us

Some see happiness as ephemeral, a moment of pleasure, while joy is an ongoing, intentional state of being. I love how the University of Medicine and Health Sciences defines joy as “accomplishing something we’ve wanted for a long time – the outcome of which exceeds our expectations.”1 Doesn’t that sound like a parents doing cartwheels about their teen’s healing? As parents of teens with mental health struggles, I believe we can have both moments of happiness and an ongoing commitment to joy.

We need to find ways to access joy, as a continual way of being, regardless of how our teens are faring. Joy soothes our souls and helps us breathe. Joy helps us appreciate the small steps of healing on the long journey of recovery. Joy reminds us that we will not be stuck in the darkness forever, that there is hope on the other side. Joy helps us believe that we are being taken care of, by the God of our understanding and by people who love us. Joy roots us in the truth that there is beauty even in the ugliest circumstance, that we can be happy whether our child is in recovery or in despair. Proverbs 17:22 says, “A joyful heart is good medicine, but a crushed spirit dries up the bones.”

text — Photo by Taylor Heery on Unsplash

In a practical sense, research proves that joy is good for our brains and bodies. The University of Medicine and Health Sciences says, “Joy triggers a host of significant physiological and psychological changes that can improve our physical and mental health.”2 Joy releases adrenaline which prepares our body for mental engagement and physical movement, enabling us to face our daily parenting challenges. Joy triggers brain activity, releasing neurotransmitters such as dopamine, serotonin, noradrenaline, and endorphins. Joy helps us combat stress, boosts our immune system, prevents heart disease, and reduces pain.

How to Find Joy

I know what you’re thinking. It’s easy to talk about joy but feels impossible to access it, given everything we carry. Here are some ideas.

Write a gratitude journal

I’ve been journaling since I was seven years old, mostly to process my problems. I’ll be honest: I struggle to use structured journals that tell you what to write on each page. But I’m trying to write a few sentences or a bullet-point list of gratitude most days. Sometimes I have no idea what I’m grateful for until I start writing, and then a list flows. Sometimes I can only think of one thing. Gratitude journaling forces my brain to scan my day or my week to look for the good. For someone like me who loves continuous improvement (translation: I can be critical and focus on the negative), I need help to reflect on what’s going well. Apparently, gratitude journaling can lead to better sleep, ease anxiety and even soothe physical pain.3 Studies show that over time, gratitude journaling rewires our brain by reminding ourselves of what’s going well and reorienting our mind to look for the good. Being as descriptive as possible about your gratitude (how did your kid take a step forward? How did you help your kid use a recovery tool? When did you stay calm in a charged situation?) actually helps our brains hold a positive memory for longer and helps us feel it in our bodies.

Look at the Big Picture

When my kids were little, we hung a growth chart on a nail and marked their height every birthday, inch by inch. My friend Ann skipped the chart and marked up a kitchen doorway, a brilliant move which testifies to this day that her towering seventeen-year-old and fifteen-year-old were once two feet tall.

Sometimes I forget how far my daughter Ellie has come in her recovery. I get caught up in her limitations and wonder if she will ever survive in college away from home after her disastrous freshman fall. Ellie has a meltdown, and I bang my head against a wall about her reactivity. I see glimpses of Ellie’s eating disorder at lunch, and I take a sharp breath.

Healing from mental health challenges is not linear; sometimes it seems like our teens travel in circles. But we need the birds’ eye view to see that they are still moving forward.

In those situations, I need a growth chart to remember where Ellie used to be. I have forgotten about the days when her depression was so severe that she refused to leave her room and her unwashed hair hung around her face like a greasy curtain. I have temporarily blocked out the memory of supervising every second of her day to prevent her from hiding her carefully apportioned lunch in kitchen cabinets. In all these situations, I compare my daughter to who I want her to be, rather than noticing how “tall” she has grown. I forget what a miracle it is that she is alive, self-sufficient and happy, given the dark shadow she once was. Sometimes I remember on my own; more often, my friends kindly remind me to look back and appreciate the long road we have walked together.

Use the Power of Affirmation

Sometimes it helps to remember that my daughter has a mental health condition that still haunts her, even if its tentacles are weaker and its voice is faint, and that she’s fighting it successfully most days. One of my favorite recovery slogans is “progress not perfection.”

There’s something powerful about affirming progress aloud, both the small steps and the big milestones. Lately, I’ve tried to be more proactive to recognize and name it to Ellie. Let’s be honest: I have no problem reminding Ellie about what she hasn’t done or confronting her about her drops. Affirmation balances this out.

This weekend, I said, “I noticed you advocated well for yourself and you rested when you needed it. I’m proud of you for taking care of yourself.”

Last week, I said, “You’re doing a great job with your community college classes. I see you getting out the door on time and you’re staying on top of your homework.”

The irony is that when I affirm Ellie, both of us feel better. We’re looking at the positive together.

In the same way, I try to notice my own progress in parenting a kid with mental health issues. Often a friend or my husband helps me see my progress. For instance, am I letting go of control around Ellie’s food? Am I stopping myself from doing things for her that she can do for herself? When did I use a therapy tool effectively to support myself or her? How did I create a safe space for her to share, without fearing my judgment?

This week’s topic is so rich that we’ll tackle part 2 next week - more ideas of how to find joy. I’d love to hear what has worked for you too!

Here’s to a week with a little less heaviness and a lot more hope and joy!