Somewhere in a parallel universe it is GCSE results day. In this parallel universe my son had to be woken up to check his results - because no matter what universe, sleep is more important than anything. He passes almost everything, because in both universes he is bright and academic. He scrapes through maths, his most hated subject and flies through history and science. We have a celebratory breakfast and start texting friends and family to let them know. We are relieved because it was always going to be a tough year with him doing GCSEs and his sister doing A Level exams - the stress levels in this house were going to be high. But we made it through. He messages his friends and arranges to meet up later to celebrate and then he wants to go back to bed, but we go to visit his Nan and Grandad. There's a family tradition of doing this ever since I was a kid - everyone goes and we have cake and coffee and celebrate together, congratulations cards are given out and no doubt Nan has got him a packet of Jelly Babies, his favourite. We talk about plans for college and laugh that it's only two more years before he goes to Uni and he'll have to start thinking about it soon. Later we order pizza, pizza is his chosen meal for any celebration and we let him have a large one covered in as many topping as he wants! We open a bottle of champagne together and take photos and laugh. We are relieved he did it and we are on to the next stage.
Today my head is full of what ifs and this parallel universe. I feel equally ridiculous and upset. My son is here, he is alive nothing else really matters - there are certainly those who are not so lucky and those who would give anything for the life we do have. But this is my pain, my guilt.
It's two years since he came out of adolescent psychiatric hospital. Eighteen months since his special school said they could no longer meet his needs and he had to leave. Eighteen months of trying to juggle a tutor for English, a tutor for maths and science, teaching him GCSE history myself, occupational therapists, psychiatrists, respite...but mostly, for him, eighteen months of isolation. He has one friend who he has seen a handful of time over the year and a half, but the gap between them grows and he is lonely. He was supposed to take his English and History GCSEs this year but the school we asked to register him didn't...they didn't tell us until it was too late, so even though he could have got predicted grades like everyone else this year he didn't. And we tell him it doesn't matter, that he can try in November, but it does matter. And I'm not convinced November exams will happen. We know he cant go anywhere to take exams, it's too much, he's too overwhelmed by anything different or by people (his absolute fear of being killed at school is why he ended up in hospital). Last month we found out that he can take exams at home, as long as he is registered and the place that registers him sends two invigilators to our house he can do it. It felt like a life-line, but no school will register him, not even when the Local Authority ask them and we're not studying the right exam board for the homeschool exam centres. So we are floating along, hoping for some sort of miracle, when the reality is that he probably wont be able to take his exams. I tell myself exams don't matter, there are other things and other ways. But today they matter. Today he knows it should have been his turn, he feels like even more of a failure that ever. He doesn't plan for his future anymore, he wants to die young so the pain goes away - that's his plan.
So in our universe I let him sleep (he doesn't sleep at night anymore), and later we will go for a walk and I'll ask him how he is and I'll reassure him. He'll chat to his little sister (with her own mental health problems) and we will be distracted. His older sister, who passed her A Levels, will carry on packing for Uni and will take the first step into her future. And tomorrow it will feel better, there will be no reminder of the parallel universe.
