NPR : Author Wades Through 'Mental Health Madness'
NPR : Author Wades Through 'Mental Health Madness'
I was driving home from teaching the other night and listening to this story on NPR
By the time I got home I was crying. This story really struck a nerve with me.
My ex (you know the one that caused me to start this blog because of his 'antics') is mentally ill. He will be mentally ill for the rest of his life.
When we met I knew he had 'issues', who doesn't. But I looked past his darkness because we were such a good 'fit' because we spoke the same language, because he was OK with me being somewhat of an intellectual and not just a set of tits.
But as time wore on his illness began to surface and it was the roller coaster ride from hell. He was out of control. He was fully immersed in a world I could not understand nor follow into. He was really sick. He became homeless, he became violent, he was manic, and he was suicidal. He was in danger and I have never felt so helpless in my life.
I remember the first time he tried to commit suicide; he decided to take an entire bottle of Tylenol PM. I managed to get to him on time and get him to the hospital. After getting the poison out of him the doctor there began screaming at him - that's right I said SCREAMING. I witnessed this abuse. I mean WTF? Don't be a psych resident if you can't handle this shit, OK. They released him with no help, no follow up.
Because of his depression he was totally unstable in the work place, he lost/quit jobs and became homeless. When I would not let him move in with me he became violent. He also at this time was doing the same internet shit with women (and I don't care what anyone thinks this WAS a manifestation of his illness), and so I kicked him to the curb as far as our relationship went. This too contributed to his violent outbursts. Eventually he was caught living in one of the sheds in the basement of my apartment building; the police were called and they begged me to press charges, I begged them to take him to the psych ward. I won, they took him down to the psych ward, the psych ward released him back onto the streets and he became homeless again. Desperate to get him help, I called his parents. His own dad did not believe his son was mentally ill; his mom was a bit better. His grandmother actually came out to help him and managed to get his parents to let him move to Florida. Basically all it ended up being was a vacation with no help for him at all. He was miserable. Finally, I called a place here in Cleveland and was able to get him into a program where he'd have counseling, live in a house with other 'crazy' folks and get on his feet.
It worked. He became stable, found a medicine that worked and he changed his life. We got back together and eventually decided to get married (and yes I was concerned about the future with him but I truly loved him and was willing to marry him despite my reservations. 'For better or for worse, in sickness and in health' isn't that the vow we take?) And the rest as they say is history 2 1/2 years into our marriage he went off his meds (without telling me) and spiraled out of control again. Our marriage was trashed and I was at my wits end and this time unable to muster up the energy needed to once again 'save him' or even help him because he was so completely gone by that point.
I come to this story from the perspective of a loved one who could not help or rescue or whatever you want to call it, someone that deserved to be helped. I am aghast at how much harm is done to those who are too ill to help themselves. I am embarrassed and incredibly saddened by the story this father told about what happened to his son, about the information he was able to 'dig up', thanks to being a former reporter with the Washington Post. It was like living through it all over again for me, the desperation, the not being able to get 'help', the fact that most people don't see mental illness they way they see illnesses like cancer, or heart disease and that included the medical community. Finally, hearing this father's story and realizing he is right, that if you are going to 'love' someone with this illness you'd better be able to not just be in it for the long haul, but you'd better be able to let them go as well, completely, and with no hope for a cure.
EDIT: Just one last thing - this story hit me so hard I felt compelled to write to the author of the book - here's the letter:
Mr. Earley I had to write to you about your bravery and courage for stepping forward to chronical and talk about your own personal story about your son. How heartbreaking for you and your family. My heart goes out to you.
As I listened to your story on NPR, I was painfully reminded of my own dealings with mental illness striking my own loved one: my now ex-husband. What he went through and how it ultimately affected our lives, and destroyed our marriage - well, let's just say, I could write my own book. And when you mention how you were treated when trying to get him medical help - I so wanted to pick up the phone and call you - I was crying by the time I got home.
I wonder how many of us out there who are on the 'outside looking in', trying to help our loved ones are unable to, and eventually give up, out of desperation, out of sheer exhaustion? In my case it was a matter of saving my own life and that of my children. I found myself going crazy - in fact I've become convinced that at thimes this disease is somewhat contagious - I could write volumes about this. And, I can't even imagine dealing with this with one of my children as well, (although because of all the issues with my ex, my daughter went through a bout of depression). I just had to write to you and give you (if you'll pardon the term) an internet hug/handshake and send you all my very best in hope and prayers that your son finds his way and somehow becomes whole again. I hope your story helps to change the current atmosphere/culture when it comes to the treatment of this awful disease and that it helps others out there to realise they are not alone in their predicament.
Thank you from the bottom of my heart.
I was driving home from teaching the other night and listening to this story on NPR
By the time I got home I was crying. This story really struck a nerve with me.
My ex (you know the one that caused me to start this blog because of his 'antics') is mentally ill. He will be mentally ill for the rest of his life.
When we met I knew he had 'issues', who doesn't. But I looked past his darkness because we were such a good 'fit' because we spoke the same language, because he was OK with me being somewhat of an intellectual and not just a set of tits.
But as time wore on his illness began to surface and it was the roller coaster ride from hell. He was out of control. He was fully immersed in a world I could not understand nor follow into. He was really sick. He became homeless, he became violent, he was manic, and he was suicidal. He was in danger and I have never felt so helpless in my life.
I remember the first time he tried to commit suicide; he decided to take an entire bottle of Tylenol PM. I managed to get to him on time and get him to the hospital. After getting the poison out of him the doctor there began screaming at him - that's right I said SCREAMING. I witnessed this abuse. I mean WTF? Don't be a psych resident if you can't handle this shit, OK. They released him with no help, no follow up.
Because of his depression he was totally unstable in the work place, he lost/quit jobs and became homeless. When I would not let him move in with me he became violent. He also at this time was doing the same internet shit with women (and I don't care what anyone thinks this WAS a manifestation of his illness), and so I kicked him to the curb as far as our relationship went. This too contributed to his violent outbursts. Eventually he was caught living in one of the sheds in the basement of my apartment building; the police were called and they begged me to press charges, I begged them to take him to the psych ward. I won, they took him down to the psych ward, the psych ward released him back onto the streets and he became homeless again. Desperate to get him help, I called his parents. His own dad did not believe his son was mentally ill; his mom was a bit better. His grandmother actually came out to help him and managed to get his parents to let him move to Florida. Basically all it ended up being was a vacation with no help for him at all. He was miserable. Finally, I called a place here in Cleveland and was able to get him into a program where he'd have counseling, live in a house with other 'crazy' folks and get on his feet.
It worked. He became stable, found a medicine that worked and he changed his life. We got back together and eventually decided to get married (and yes I was concerned about the future with him but I truly loved him and was willing to marry him despite my reservations. 'For better or for worse, in sickness and in health' isn't that the vow we take?) And the rest as they say is history 2 1/2 years into our marriage he went off his meds (without telling me) and spiraled out of control again. Our marriage was trashed and I was at my wits end and this time unable to muster up the energy needed to once again 'save him' or even help him because he was so completely gone by that point.
I come to this story from the perspective of a loved one who could not help or rescue or whatever you want to call it, someone that deserved to be helped. I am aghast at how much harm is done to those who are too ill to help themselves. I am embarrassed and incredibly saddened by the story this father told about what happened to his son, about the information he was able to 'dig up', thanks to being a former reporter with the Washington Post. It was like living through it all over again for me, the desperation, the not being able to get 'help', the fact that most people don't see mental illness they way they see illnesses like cancer, or heart disease and that included the medical community. Finally, hearing this father's story and realizing he is right, that if you are going to 'love' someone with this illness you'd better be able to not just be in it for the long haul, but you'd better be able to let them go as well, completely, and with no hope for a cure.
EDIT: Just one last thing - this story hit me so hard I felt compelled to write to the author of the book - here's the letter:
Mr. Earley I had to write to you about your bravery and courage for stepping forward to chronical and talk about your own personal story about your son. How heartbreaking for you and your family. My heart goes out to you.
As I listened to your story on NPR, I was painfully reminded of my own dealings with mental illness striking my own loved one: my now ex-husband. What he went through and how it ultimately affected our lives, and destroyed our marriage - well, let's just say, I could write my own book. And when you mention how you were treated when trying to get him medical help - I so wanted to pick up the phone and call you - I was crying by the time I got home.
I wonder how many of us out there who are on the 'outside looking in', trying to help our loved ones are unable to, and eventually give up, out of desperation, out of sheer exhaustion? In my case it was a matter of saving my own life and that of my children. I found myself going crazy - in fact I've become convinced that at thimes this disease is somewhat contagious - I could write volumes about this. And, I can't even imagine dealing with this with one of my children as well, (although because of all the issues with my ex, my daughter went through a bout of depression). I just had to write to you and give you (if you'll pardon the term) an internet hug/handshake and send you all my very best in hope and prayers that your son finds his way and somehow becomes whole again. I hope your story helps to change the current atmosphere/culture when it comes to the treatment of this awful disease and that it helps others out there to realise they are not alone in their predicament.
Thank you from the bottom of my heart.
posted by Colette at 10:58 AM
2 Comments:
OK, so I had to link again. This is such a trip. I really can't say any more.
..uhm OK - thanks...I guess.
It was not, surprisingly, hard to write (yeah it only took me 2 days to figure out what I wanted to say - not how to say it though)...
It's just that there's been so much about this entire 'saga' etched into my heart like etchings on glass and the glass is really fragile - it wants to break. So often times I have to parcel out the things I want to say cause I still feel it all so very deeply...and of course by writing it sometimes it causes wounds to re-open. But I felt it was important to get out because I don't know who might stumble upon this (out of the blue) and feel like they are not alone.
Post a Comment
<< Home