This is a story about a teenager, a young girl, whose journey… it truly encapsulates why I do what I do. Before she came to me, her life was a revolving door of hospitalizations. Mental health hospitals… she’d been there, unbelievably, at least five times. And this wasn’t just a one-off; it was a pattern. Three, four times a year, she’d be admitted. By the time she reached me, it was likely her fifth or sixth admission.

Her mother was at her wit’s end. Desperation etched into every word, she’d say, ‘We’re living at the hospital. That’s our life now.’ The cycle was relentless: admission, discharge, a brief flicker of hope, then back into the abyss. School was a distant memory. Barely attended. And then, inevitably, the crisis would erupt again – suicidal attempts, overwhelming despair, or these… these intensely loud, impulsive episodes. She was drowning in hopelessness.

She couldn’t grasp why she was here. Life, to her, was utterly pointless, devoid of meaning. School was another battleground, a source of constant failure and crushing anxiety. Classes failed, friendships fractured. There were shadows of past bullying from elementary school, lingering wounds that never seemed to heal.

But the core of it all… the suffocating darkness of her moods. So profound, so consuming, that it led to repeated suicidal crises. The parents lived in a state of constant vigilance. They’d turned their home into a fortress, locking away knives, any potential weapon. Yet, even that wasn’t enough. Desperate, driven by an inner torment, she would find ways. I recall one instance… she tried to eat dirt, just…dirt from outside. A raw, visceral cry for escape from the unbearable pain within. It was…severe. Heartbreakingly severe.

She wanted to die. Not as a fleeting thought, but as a deep, unwavering desire. Life held no appeal, no promise. And the impulsivity… it was terrifying. A minor trigger, a slight upset, could unleash a torrent of self-destructive behavior – hitting walls, lashing out in pain. Imagine the distress, the agonizing helplessness for her, for her family. School became an impossibility. Her aggression, her suicidal ideation… it was too much for the school environment to handle. Homeschooling became the only option. Her parents, forced to make an impossible choice, rearranged their entire lives. One had to work from home, the other, tragically, had to quit their job entirely, to become a 24/7 guardian, a constant presence against the ever-present threat of self-harm. The strain, the relentless stress on this family… it was unimaginable.

When she finally came to me, the weight of their agony was palpable. Speaking to this young girl, it was clear – she was trapped in a nightmare she couldn’t escape. ‘I don’t want this to keep happening,’ she’d whisper, her voice laced with guilt and despair. ‘But… when it happens… I lose control. My anger, my emotions, the impulsiveness… I can’t stop it.’

Working with her, listening deeply, piecing together her history, I started to see a clearer picture, to understand the complex web of diagnoses that might be at play. Unraveling the family history, tracing threads back to uncles, distant relatives… history taking – it’s so crucial. It was through this deep dive, this careful exploration, that we began to identify a more targeted path to healing.

We shifted her treatment, moved away from the approaches used in the hospital. We made changes, tailored specifically to her unique needs. Safety remained paramount. Constant monitoring, vigilance against self-harm. The parents, bless them, had to become detectives, scanning her body, searching for hidden razors, removing any sharp objects, any potential instruments of self-destruction. Imagine the constant anxiety, the erosion of privacy, the sheer exhaustion of this reality.

But…and this is where the story turns, where hope begins to bloom… I am incredibly proud, deeply moved to tell you that after we started working together, after those crucial medication adjustments, something shifted. A profound change began to unfold. This young woman, the one who was trapped in a cycle of despair and hospitalization… she is now, as I speak to you, in college. College. Thriving. We haven’t been back to the hospital. Not once. We found the right treatment, the specific treatment she desperately needed.

It’s about intention, precision. Finding the treatment tailored to the individual, understanding the intricate dance of brain chemistry, the complexities of neurobiology, and targeting those specific symptoms with unwavering focus. When you do that… you can witness a transformation. A profound, life-altering turnaround. And that’s what happened with this incredible young woman and her family. The gratitude of her parents… it’s overwhelming. This child they once wouldn’t let step outside alone, terrified of what might happen… is now living in a college dorm, navigating the world, forging her own path. From a life confined by fear and despair to… this. Seeing her now, flourishing in college, embracing her education, her future… it’s truly breathtaking.

We gave them back their daughter. They got their daughter’s life back. And she… she reclaimed her own life. She’s an adult now, living, breathing, embracing her future. A future filled with hope, not destruction. A future she’s eagerly stepping into, fully alive, determined to fulfill her dreams. These are the moments, these are the transformations… that fuel our purpose, that make all the arduous work worthwhile.