The culture has made some progress in the understanding and acceptance of others, but in matters of mental illness it lags behind. There still aren’t enough beds, still isn’t enough training, affordable medication and therapy, to help the many schizophrenics lost to the streets and left to fend off the demons in their minds on their own. I know this firsthand, so I talk about it.
I spend a great deal of time reading and listening to other people’s stories about mental illness. I belong to several Facebook groups that support families of those with serious mental illness. Every single day I read tragic accountings of mental illness and families. One woman’s son set fire to…
Schizophrenia is comprised of a million little things. An odd glance that becomes something else altogether. A twitch or involuntary kick that tells a story of medicine and bodies. A glint of recognition, maybe the remembrance of love? Voices.
Besides grieving and experiencing the guilt, sadness and anger that accompanies when someone close to us dies by suicide, I was left with an empty space to fill. I could have gone one of two ways. I could have tried to fill that void with things that would only have masked the pain I was in and sunk into a deep depression, or I could fill that empty space with actions that made me feel whole again. And this is how my journey brought me to music.
After the three-week stay in the hospital, where they changed up his meds because he had become psychotic, he hasn’t settled yet. I implored them to keep him through the transition. I mean, changing serious, anti-psychotic meds after ten years is no small thing.
Take a few minutes and read. I know how much you need to hear from a mother who is completely honest about the missiles and darts of motherhood, mental illness; impossible teenagers, and the fact that, at night time, all that holds true is that you love them so completely, so ridiculously…
I’ve heard so many stories about people that are faced with a friend or family member that is struggling, and because they feel like they don’t know what to do, and fear they may do something “wrong,” they ignore it. They put it off and hope someone else jumps in to help.
My past gave me strength to move forward and be a voice for mental health discussions. There were many difficult times along my journey and days I thought I would not survive, but I did. Instead of letting the words people say to you bring you down, let them empower you. For each of you is a warrior and a voice, together we can change to discussions surrounding mental health disorders.
I cannot accept that there isn’t a doctor out there who can help my son. My husband says I have to accept it and I scream NO, I’M NOT ACCEPTING IT. He shakes his head and says something softly that I can’t hear. Don’t want to hear.
