Mothering a Mentally Ill Child
Oh the joys of motherhood, they light the world with love but for those who bore a mentally ill child, it is a different kind of joy, often a painful joy. The pain stems from the lost potential, the joy comes with the smallest accomplishments of a mentally ill child and always, there is relief when there is a month or two of normalcy.
When I gave birth, I was still considered a teenager, too young to have a baby but too close to my own mother, for her to dissuade or guide me in a wiser direction. How could I have known that my only emotional support, the woman I shared an apartment with, the woman who I loved more than life, my mother, would die only two months after I gave birth to a baby “out of wedlock.”
My daughter’s father was my first and only true love. He was from the other side of the tracks, rich, spoiled, and lived on the golf course in Country Club Oaks. He had been adopted into a glamorous, high society family, when he and his adopted brother were babies. Sadly, societal events constantly kept his parents from parenting and by the age of 17, he was a full blown alcoholic, having access to an empty house full of friends, an open bar and an endless bank account. As much as a young, impressionable girl can love a boy, I did, for years, until I became pregnant and decided, much to my credit, that I did not want to marry a man who drank like a sieve. In 1973 no one knew alcoholism was a disease, it was considered a lack of discipline. My mother was in full agreement that we would raise the baby ourselves and was over the moon, delighted with every baby clothing or furniture purchase.
Two months later, I was being moved back in with my grandparents after the sudden death of my thirty-eight year old mother. I was working 30 miles away in the big city to support my child and by age one, we had moved into a tiny apartment in Houston. My grandparents continued to help on weekends and holidays and by age six, my daughter was such a remarkable child, smart, adorable and kind. She continued to surprise all of us as she grew into a prepubescent young lady, in advanced learning classes and the first few years of elementary and in high school, she excelled in music and was prolific in Cello and sports. Her grades were exceptional and her personality, sweet, quick-witted and charming.
Then it happened. Shortly after her grandfather died, we began to see changes in her disposition. She was only 19. Naturally, we wondered if she was on drugs or was drinking, only to discover that was NOT the case. Her rages became more frequent, her moods shifted like blowing sand and we began to see a violent nature emerge. We did not understand what was happening, so naturally we blamed ourselves as many parents do. There is no handbook on mental illness or the different variances, of its all-consuming shadows. We were simply too country to understand how to deal with such a child.
My mother had always been suicidal and was a manic depressive. Other than the obvious genetics involved, her root issues stemmed from her father taking his life at the age of 29. Her mother and father were getting divorced and the threat of never seeing his “precious darling daughter again,” hung over his head daily by my controlling grandmother. A bottle of acid was his poison and my mother was not told of the suicide, her mother thinking that was best, not realizing that the kids at school would taunt her with it by the age of seven.
We knew mental illness was a part of our family but we all seemed pretty normal comparatively, so this was an extreme we were simply unprepared for. By the time my grandmother died in 2001, my husband and I were being called back to Texas by authorities who found my daughter breaking into the house next door, Bible in hand, warning the family they were “going to hell” if they let their kids watch “Harry Potter.” She was living in her great grandmother’s house with four ill cats, their excrement matted to the carpet covered in carpet fresh, living in total squander, a pile of clothes stacked to the ceiling in the garage. Her electricity had been cut off, her water was turned off and yet she had not told us that she was unable to pay her bills. Lying is very common with the mentally ill and frankly, they can be so convincing of their own normalcy. Suffice to say, we paid all the bills and bought groceries and began the ardent task of hosing my grandmother’s house down with buckets of Lysol. The neighbors came to help, most of them knowing my daughter had disintegrated, since her great-grandmothers death.
As we were unloading the trunk of the car, carrying in the groceries, suddenly without a hostile word, without a warning, this 5’7 red head, grabbed me by the throat and began choking me almost to death. My husband said her strength was like nothing he could imagine as he tried to peel her off of me. Not one word was spoken, as we left the remaining groceries on the driveway, got into the car and drove to the hotel. We were in absolute disbelief and shock. That night as I lay there sobbing and recovering, we saw a shadow from under the door and suddenly a card was slipped into our room. It was a thank you card for all the food and help paying her bills and not one word was said about the violent episode. Cue the “Twilight Zone” music.
No matter how many psychiatrists, psychologists, sociologists, preachers, counselors and treatments were employed, she continue to descend into the darkness, an abyss so deep it is hard to find your way back to the light. Over the years she did however, some months so lovely and normal that we got our hopes up and relished in her beautiful spirit. Then the long months so dark and violent that we often could not have a five minute conversation with her before she began attacking. She became a danger to the police officers who pulled her over for speeding, often arrested for assaulting them. We’d bail her out every time an apartment kicked her out for non-payment, until we simply couldn’t anymore. All the family photo albums, family heirlooms, jewelry, her furniture, clothes and even pets were confiscated. It was more than excruciating knowing there were no permanent solutions and with every late night phone call, our hearts raced, concerned she had either hurt someone or herself. There is never a peaceful night’s sleep for the parent of a mentally ill child.
In America alone, there have been 288 school shootings since 2009 and many of the shooters display behaviors which were signs of mental illness. According to “Vistas Online” a publication of the American Counseling Association; “Many of the attackers wrote cryptic messages, engaged in behaviors that caused others concern or indicated a need for help, or disclosed to peers that they experienced loneliness or anger prior to the attacks.” https://www.counseling.org/docs/default-source/vistas/school-shootings-and-student-mental-health.p
In many other cases, there were no warning signs whatsoever. Many of these kids are beautiful, talented, and likable and appear quite normal, as in my daughters case. That is the most frightening prospect of mental illness, especially given how easily anyone can get a gun in America. In the most recent Stem school shooting in Highlands, Colorado, both kids were underage, yet somehow managed to get several guns. They entered the school and took the young life of Kendrick Castillo and injured eight others.
Mental illness is still a mystery to the medical community, law enforcement and parents who raise children the best they can, only to watch mental illness creep in and consume the child they once knew. In a Mayo Clinic article, research showed: “Mental illness in children can be hard for parents to identify. Psychosis and Schizophrenia most often appears in the late teens through the 20s.” https://www.mayoclinic.org/healthy-lifestyle/childrens-health/in-depth/mental-illness-in-children/art-20046577
So often parents simply do not know what to look for and many times even if they do, mental illness is not always obvious in so many of these cases.
America’s legislature has done little to address the vast needs of American citizens who are mentally ill. Parents are virtually helpless in this plight since many mentally ill are left to their own devices once they are over the legal age of 21. I cannot have my dangerous daughter committed to an institution to protect her and society, because it violates her civil rights. Yet she cannot take care of herself and is too volatile to live with others. This is the dilemma of many parents suffering through the same circumstances.
With mass shootings on the rise and the Republican Party’s refusal to address common sense gun laws, the only real option left should have been the first one, find a way to help the mentally ill in our country. Will it end mass shootings? I don’t know but it will help thousands of parents sleep better at night and who knows, perhaps even slow the taking of innocent lives at the hands of those whose brain has betrayed them.
