When we talk about mental illness, there is little that frightens me. After all, I was trained by Maxine. I watched throughout her lifetime of suffering. Of course, I get sad when someone dies. I get sad when someone tries to die. I get horrified when a mentally ill person is the victim of crime. I'm also pretty horrified when I see a mentally ill person create crime. Stigma makes me angry. But to be truly frightened? What scares me is...absolute hopelessness. Because here is what I know: Mental illness at the point of hopelessness is where death occurs. Mental illness in which someone has given up is a life wasted. Mental illness without LOOKING for recovery is extraordinarily lonely. Here is why I feel this way: I watched Maxine deteriorate. I never saw a desire to recover or for things to get better in my Mom. And her life really was a waste. Although she died at 67 years of age, her death really happened much earlier. She lived in this bubble of misery where her daughters were 'sluts' and her husband was a 'queer'. And all the good parts of her character were hidden by the hostility and the fact that she didn't bathe.
The funny part is that Maxine had a man. She was married to my Dad for 25 years before he died. I hear lots of "If I only had love in my life" from depressed women. And I know that love doesn't change what you refuse to work on. Lack of romantic love isn't what is killing your soul. Your mental illness is what is killing your soul. As I watched the marriage of my parents go through the inevitable stages that a marriage would go through as my Mom got sick...I learned a lot. My Dad married my Mom because he loved her. He created children with my Mom because that love led him to want to do that. And she literally destroyed that love. For most of the time that I was aware of it, his love became nothing more than a desire to caretake the mother of his children.
I see variations of my parents and their story in many people. I used to fantasize that my Dad would leave my Mom. Why? I wanted him to have a woman in his life who could reciprocate the love he had in his soul. He was a great Dad. A loving human being. Stressed beyond measure by a wife who couldn't be a partner. I think he died early partially because of that stress. And because of the loss of the partner he couldn't count on. If you are mentally ill and talking about how you are victimized because you don't have a partner, turn your gaze inward. YOU are the issue. You have to find the desire to recover. Because if you don't, you will always be without a partner. You won't be able to recognize any love you have in your life. Whether it is romantic love or simple friendship. I'm rich in love today simply because I see it. And I'm not dating anybody. I choose today to acknowledge that I have choices. And I work to manage my illness. I work hard. Every time I take medicine or reach out to my support system. Every time I struggle through difficulties and use other tools. Every time I recognize that I have to work on me...I choose love. Take a risk. Try it out. Listen to your still small voice....and move forward.
The funny part is that Maxine had a man. She was married to my Dad for 25 years before he died. I hear lots of "If I only had love in my life" from depressed women. And I know that love doesn't change what you refuse to work on. Lack of romantic love isn't what is killing your soul. Your mental illness is what is killing your soul. As I watched the marriage of my parents go through the inevitable stages that a marriage would go through as my Mom got sick...I learned a lot. My Dad married my Mom because he loved her. He created children with my Mom because that love led him to want to do that. And she literally destroyed that love. For most of the time that I was aware of it, his love became nothing more than a desire to caretake the mother of his children.
I see variations of my parents and their story in many people. I used to fantasize that my Dad would leave my Mom. Why? I wanted him to have a woman in his life who could reciprocate the love he had in his soul. He was a great Dad. A loving human being. Stressed beyond measure by a wife who couldn't be a partner. I think he died early partially because of that stress. And because of the loss of the partner he couldn't count on. If you are mentally ill and talking about how you are victimized because you don't have a partner, turn your gaze inward. YOU are the issue. You have to find the desire to recover. Because if you don't, you will always be without a partner. You won't be able to recognize any love you have in your life. Whether it is romantic love or simple friendship. I'm rich in love today simply because I see it. And I'm not dating anybody. I choose today to acknowledge that I have choices. And I work to manage my illness. I work hard. Every time I take medicine or reach out to my support system. Every time I struggle through difficulties and use other tools. Every time I recognize that I have to work on me...I choose love. Take a risk. Try it out. Listen to your still small voice....and move forward.
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