My child was diagnosed with Schizophrenia at the young age of 7 years old. Our lives had changed significantly since he was born. We had another child before him and knew what was considered normal development and behavior, but my new son was different from the start. He rarely wanted to be held. He needed constant stimulation from electronic toys with flashing lights, and he would cry unless he was watching the same show repetitively. As an infant he would continuously laugh at nothing as if he were watching something or someone in front of him.
It was at the age of 5 that things turned to extreme trouble. He was depressed, extremely paranoid and couldn’t stay in school. We began our journey of doctor’s appointments looking for answers. He became extremely ill by the time he turned 6. He hid in corners, told me I didn’t love him so he wanted to die, reaching for knives to kill himself or me because he feared me. We spent every day running from door to door to keep him in the house, hiding anything that he could harm himself or me with, keeping him from fist fighting me, and harming his head as he banged it on walls. We found a doctor to help, so we thought.
He was treated with medications for adults. He was overdosed and the symptoms worsened. We checked him into the mental hospital for children and they were a blessing.
He came home a new child. Still with auditory hallucinations, some paranoia,and he still can’t attend school, so he is a part of a private distance learning school, and doing great. He’s 16 now, and recently diagnosed with Schizoaffective Disorder. He knows I love him, he’s not dangerous to himself or others anymore, and now when he laughs I know what he’s laughing at or who he is laughing with. For years we fought to keep him alive, and keep me alive, and now he’s living his life the best he can.