Free January First: A Child's Descent Into Madness and Her Father's Struggle to Save Her by Michael Schofield

years, but none of them worked until Lexapro. Maybe that was because my depression didn’t manifest as sadness.
    I got angry … just like Janni.

CHAPTER TEN
Early February 2008
    W e’re on our way to Pump It Up, an indoor play area in Woodland Hills, a half-hour drive away and a good test to see if Janni and Bodhi can ride in the same car while she’s on her new Ritalin medication.
    As usual, as soon as we start driving, Bodhi starts crying, but this time, Janni doesn’t react. It’s like she doesn’t hear him crying. We still have her in the front passenger seat next to me, while Susan rides in the back next to Bodhi.
    When we get to the play area, I am shocked to see only babies and toddlers.
    “Where are the kids Janni’s age?” I ask Susan.
    Susan is settling down with Bodhi, preparing to feed him.
    “It’s a school day,” she replies.
    I feel a pang of pain in my heart. I’d forgotten that Janni should be in school by now. Janni’s peers are growing up, while Janni appearsto be stuck. The world is moving on without her, I think sadly, remembering my image of her as a shut-in.
    I don’t expect Janni to last long at the play area. I figure if we get an hour we will be doing well. To my shock, Janni starts helping the younger kids climb into the tunnels or into the ball pit. She’s interacting with other kids!
    The Ritalin is the answer to our prayers, a miracle drug. Not only is her violence gone, but here she is, busy helping the younger children. I haven’t seen her be nice to another child since she was a toddler herself, and now here she is, holding their hands, taking them back to their mothers when they get scared, reassuring them. She is suddenly the big sister I always hoped she would be.
    Every so often she runs back to us, but instead of talking about her imaginary friends, she talks about the other children, giving us their names and how old they are.
    She is talking a mile a minute. She has always been a fast talker, but this is even faster.
    I have read up on Ritalin, just as I have on Risperdal. Like all ADHD drugs, it’s supposed to calm a child down. The fact that it is winding Janni up can mean only one thing: Janni doesn’t have ADHD.
    “She’s very wound up,” I say to Susan after Janni runs back to play with the toddlers. “It’s like she’s high.”
    “But at least she’s not being violent,” Susan replies. “I would rather her be high and happy than unhappy and violent.”
    I agree. So Ritalin makes our daughter high as a kite. At least she’s happy and the violence is gone.
    AFTER A FULL day of playing at Pump It Up, we get into the car and drive home. I start to think my original belief was correct: The source of Janni’s rage is a disconnect between her brilliant mind andher young body. It’s been making her depressed, and that makes her become violent. The Ritalin makes her high, thereby taking away the violence.
    It is early evening and traffic is heavy. Bodhi starts to cry. Given that she didn’t scream at him when he cried on the drive here, I am taken by surprise when Janni suddenly screams at him to be quiet.
    Okay , I tell myself. Don’t panic. The Ritalin is just wearing off . I tell Susan to give her another pill.
    “But if I give her one now, she won’t sleep,” Susan protests. “We’re only supposed to give it to her in the morning.”
    Janni takes off her shoes and unbuckles her seat belt, turning around to throw her shoes at Bodhi. I grab at her arms, my eyes going back and forth between the road in front of me and Janni.
    “If you don’t give her one now,” I roar, “we’ll never make it home.”
    Janni keeps screaming at Bodhi and trying to hit him, while Susan searches in her purse for the bottle of Ritalin.
    “Janni, put on the headphones.” I reach down to the floor of the passenger side and retrieve the headphones I bought for Janni. They’re designed for shooters, rated to block out thirty-five decibels. I’ve tried them on