My mom writes to me all the time. The last letter she sent was accompanied with a care package- some socks, gloves, crayons, a bandanna and, as always, some little religious knickknack or pamphlet. The letter was written in a birthday card and contained the typical truisms that I have come to know my mother for. I read the letter rather quickly as I usually do, but something caught my eye:
"I was in the hospital last Wednesday! I'm fine now though so don't worry. I couldn't get off my mat at the shelter in the morning, so I told security to call the ambulance. I was on a hospital bed for over 3 hours while they checked me out. I had/have vertigo/dizziness from low sound low frequency devices that those people do to me in the shelter..."
My mother? In the hospital? Well, this has gone on long enough!
I've known for a long time what is wrong with my mom. It's why I've pursued my undergraduate (and hopefully graduate) career in psychology. I figured the best way to get my mom and others like her the help she needs is to understand it the best I can.
If you've ever known someone or dealt with someone who has a mental illness and is unaware of it, you're quite familiar with the difficulties that come with trying to get them help. It's impossible. To get help, they must learn to help themselves- unless they're coming after you with a knife. Despite the stereotype, violence is not one of the typical effects of many mental illnesses, including schizophrenia.
I'll admit it- I'm terrified of being the one who has to tell her. I almost did once, but the word 'Schizophrenia' couldn't pass my lips.
How do you tell someone that their concept of the world around them is a lie?
I suppose this trip to the hospital presented an opportune time for me to present the issue to her. It provided me with something concrete. Her inability to get up may have had to do with dizziness and issues with vertigo, but it surely wasn't sound frequency that caused it. It was more than likely an ear infection caused by a bacterial build-up from her having tissues stuffed in her ears all day. That would explain why she has to take 'vertigo/dizziness' pills for ten days- antibiotics.
Unfortunately, part of the disease is not knowing you have it. And, unfortunately, mental illness to this day has such a negative stigma attached to it. It was less than 100 years ago that we were still calling mental health places asylums for lunatics, locking up mentally ill in cold cement rooms for days at a time naked and often without a blanket. Once the poor treatment of the mentally ill was discovered instead of implementing reform, we deinstitutionalized the system and dumped thousands on the streets.
So I wrote this letter. Sent her own little care package for her birthday- a WalMart gift card and some proper ear plugs.
Fifteen years is long enough! It's about time somebody has the courage to step up and give her the decency of at least the opportunity to know the truth. I know I have done the right thing. I just don't know what's going to happen next. But that's done- I've told her. I've wanted to do that for years.
I love you, Mom. Please don't disown me.
Do you know somebody with a mental illness?
Have you ever had to confront somebody about something they were going through?