This client was just like my Mom. Down to ‘no personal hygiene and lives in filth’. And this happened quickly for my client. For my Mom, it had started earlier than her family noticed. But once she was on the decline, she seemed to decline quickly. And the change was just as dramatic. I used to love going to the beauty shop with her. During those days, women would pile their hair on top of their heads for important occasions. They had fancy hairdos that obviously took lots of hairspray. And as a little girl, I was mesmerized. Past a certain time-period, my Mom stopped getting her hair done. Now, I remember her hair being a marker of her mental health. She changed. And she stopped taking care of her hair. Obviously, that was just a symbol of the overall change, but it was a powerful one. My Mom, with the beautiful hair, turned into someone who could be mistaken for a street person.
When someone is severely and chronically mentally ill, they really are a totally different person. Your loved one may be in there, but you can’t see them. As a child, I kept looking for my Mom. But I didn’t see her. And I am sure I mourned. There was anger, sadness, and fear all combined into a huge emotional ball. I lived my life feeling like something had to be wrong with me. After all, I should be able to make it all better. (Those dysfunctional thoughts and behavior patterns start young.) My grades went into the toilet. I even stopped doing the school work. I had few friends and problems socially. My schoolmates and the teachers/administrators saw my Mom. She would drop me off at school. I am certain that I was treated differently as a result. All of that led to meetings with social workers/school counselors as I went through school. Not a one of them really addressed my home life. They just talked about me. (At least that’s how I remember it.) Which really convinced me that I was the whole problem. If I did my homework, my Mom would get better. So, I would feel guilty. Then I wouldn’t change a thing. (Children think they are pretty powerful. And sometimes they need help to change bad patterns. My family tried. But they were a little distracted with my Mom.) What is my point? Mental illness changes people. And it changes families. Today, I get that. How about you?
When someone is severely and chronically mentally ill, they really are a totally different person. Your loved one may be in there, but you can’t see them. As a child, I kept looking for my Mom. But I didn’t see her. And I am sure I mourned. There was anger, sadness, and fear all combined into a huge emotional ball. I lived my life feeling like something had to be wrong with me. After all, I should be able to make it all better. (Those dysfunctional thoughts and behavior patterns start young.) My grades went into the toilet. I even stopped doing the school work. I had few friends and problems socially. My schoolmates and the teachers/administrators saw my Mom. She would drop me off at school. I am certain that I was treated differently as a result. All of that led to meetings with social workers/school counselors as I went through school. Not a one of them really addressed my home life. They just talked about me. (At least that’s how I remember it.) Which really convinced me that I was the whole problem. If I did my homework, my Mom would get better. So, I would feel guilty. Then I wouldn’t change a thing. (Children think they are pretty powerful. And sometimes they need help to change bad patterns. My family tried. But they were a little distracted with my Mom.) What is my point? Mental illness changes people. And it changes families. Today, I get that. How about you?
No comments:
Post a Comment