The picture above of me isn't a pretty one but it is a true one. Snapped by my partner at a time when I was struggling with depression, it shows me looking my worst; without sleep and exhausted and looking back into a painful past. A hopeless exercise but one that those of us who struggle with mental illness will relate to.
I don't have one mental illness...I have several. And I am still standing...despite myself and my mental disorders.
How do you view the mentally ill? What do you think to yourself when you see 'a crazy person' on the street? Is it funny or curious to watch? Or do you think to yourself, as I do, 'But for the Grace of God, go I'?
Almost everyone has someone in their family or even someone they know who has struggled with mental illness. Statistics say that one in four adults over the age of eighteen or 25% of individuals will suffer a debilitating mental illness in their lifetime. Approximately 20.9 million American adults, or about 9.5 percent of the U.S. population age 18 and older in a given year, have a mood disorder and depressive disorders often co-occur with anxiety disorders and substance abuse.
Which brings me to Stephen. I first met Stephen when he was 16 after being brought home by my son Josh, as they went to high school together. Stephen became without any effort at all, 'my other son'. He began to eat meals at our home and became a constant fixture at our house and suffice to say, I love him dearly.
That he was a bit odd was a given. He was also funny, intelligent and very outgoing. And after all, he was a teenager and trying, as my son was, to find himself.
But there came a day when I could no longer ignore the fact the he absolutely refused to eat at home and so I sat him down, face to face and asked him why.
He told me calmly and without a blink of an eye that he thought his parents were trying to poison him. Shocked and upset, I tried to convince him otherwise, but it did no good. He believed what he believed...period. I also spoke with his mother who was aware of the problem but unsure how to deal with it. She told me that since his aunt's death who had resided with them, he had refused to eat anything that he had not bought and opened himself. His mother had also shared that Stephen had been the one to find his aunt deceased on the kitchen floor and that he had been traumatized by it.
That was the beginning...
When Stephen was 17, he went to a concert and to this day, no one, not even my son who is his closest friend, knows what happened because Stephen has never spoken of it, at least not to us. But something did happen and Stephen was forever changed.
He became reclusive to the point that he refused to leave the house at all or stay in contact with any of his friends. The daily visits to our house stopped and my son, Joshuea concerned and worried, tried to help by visiting and talking to find out what had occurred that had caused such a devastating change in his best friend. But Stephen wasn't talking...at least not to Josh.
He was speaking...to the voices in his head. In his early twenties, Stephen was diagnosed with schizophrenia.
The diagnosis was for me and for my son Joshuea, devastating, as I am sure it was a hundred times more so for his parents. He was put on medication which caused massive weight gain and as the years have gone by, his condition has deteriorated because Stephen refuses to take his medication due to the side effects.
The last time I saw Stephen, which was about a year ago, his mother had come to bring him for a visit. As I stood off at a distance speaking with his mother about his condition, which was worsening, I happened to glance up, concerned that he might overhear. As I looked over and my eyes met his, I watched his lips as they silently moved while he whispered to the voices in his head that no one else could hear and I knew that while his body may have been there, his mind was a million miles away.
I went over and hugged him and looking into his eyes, I told him how very much I loved him. I told him to always remember I was there for him and to never forget if he needed me, to call or get in touch with me any way he could.
I hope and I pray he heard me.
After they had gone, I went inside and sat down and wept...for 'my other son', Stephen, who had somehow gotten lost in a foreign land with no means to get back.
Stephen continues to live with his parents and his condition continues to deteriorate.
The next time you see someone who is acting strangely or a bit odd, think twice or better yet, how about thinking thrice? And while you are at it, do your best to really 'see' that person with compassion and empathy.
Please remember that mental illness takes no prisoners. It could be your best friend or it could be a member of your family...or it could be You.
We are all ONE...
Until next time My Dear Friends,
LadiofZen
