When I was in high school, I was very, very unwell. My mom went through my stuff...everything I had, and destroyed letters and journal entries. It was humiliating as I believed I was a lesbian at the time and didn't want my parents to know. Also, I was so unwell that there were things written in my own blood and prayers to demons. It was awful. She would also pick up the phone and listen to calls. She would screen my calls also to make sure I wasn't talking on the phone with any girl I had a relationship with at the time. I got away with little. I HATED it and her (I thought) at the time. Later, as I got older and better, I appreciated it. She was trying to save my life literally and she was also trying to manipulate my sexuality (which she did only because she had never seen anything in me that would have made her think I was gay). That sounds controlling but, especially, I owe my life, in great part, to her and my dad. I would do the same for my child if I believed they were suicidal.