A picture of Maxine...

I feel a need to paint a picture about who Maxine was underneath the mental illness.  She was a pretty wonderful person.  She was friendly, open and funny.  She was playful, with a really corny sense of humor.  She was intelligent and had insight.  Sometimes.  Underneath it all, I had a pretty good Mom.  But she was mentally ill.  And that made all her positive qualities difficult to see.  I have some wonderful memories of my Mom.  She was pretty striking looking.  At least until the mental illness took over and made her beauty disappear.

I remember all the positive because I was eight years old before I became seriously conscious of her deterioration.  Sometimes, I am struck by the personality similarities that we really do have.  My Mom loved to talk to people.  As do I.  I have chosen to get a ‘job’ instead of continuing efforts to create a home business.  Partially because I crave human interaction.  And seeing people during my work day helps me to deal with my depression.  I recognize this because of how depressed I became while trying to build my home business.  I remember that my Mom had to go out every day and interact with people.  Of course, her interactions were inappropriate due to her illness, but she seemed to have the same craving for company that I have.  If unable to get out, Mom would spend hours on the phone talking with my Aunt A.  If she was unable to do that, she would be even crankier.  I avoided her as much as possible at those times.  

My Mom was a good conversationalist when she was healthy.  At least that is how I remember it.  And quite a good playmate for a small child.  She was creative and sweet.  And loved her daughters.  I remember her chasing my sister and me around the house and pretending to be a lion.  I loved it.  She had quite an imagination.  We would pretend with her.  I would be her “teacher” and she would be the silly student who wasn’t quite getting the lesson.  Of course, that made me laugh every time.  She was artistic and always encouraged my learning about the arts.  Along with my Dad, I give her a lot of credit for the fact that I was able to encourage my daughter and her creativity.  

What does this all say about Maxine?  That she was a nice woman.  Not that she was mentally ill and angry and punitive to all who dared to love her.  The complexity of my relationship with her is at least partially the result of the fact that I really did love her.  I was so confused about why my loving and beloved Mom was turning on me the way she did.  I didn’t get it.  And even when I became really aware of what mental illness is, I was confused.  I didn’t know what to expect from her at the beginning.  And that is probably what confused and scared me most of all.  As it progressed, and the times that she was ‘ill’ became more regular, I knew what to expect.  And in some ways that was marginally easier to deal with.

What is your experience with your mentally ill family member? Do you find the changes in personality as confusing as I did?  How have you coped with that?  As always, I really do want to hear your story.  Talking about what you experience and feel is healing in a way that I can’t really explain.  Join the conversation!