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Sunday, Nov 8, 2009
LW, I haven't got a clue how to advise you, but I feel it must be awful what you are going through. I forget whether you mentioned you have a good therapist, or not, but they're trained to help people deal with the illnesses of family members and if you haven't already, you might want to give it a try.
One more thing: I think Cary may have forgotten to address the issue of the way this situation is hurting your relationship with your sister. If I had something like this getting in between me and my sister I'd be doubly miserable. I wonder what advice posters may have to you about that.
Take care; this situation sounds totally miserable and I hope you are finding some ways to get away from it sometimes and enjoy your life anyway.
Cary's advice is good. Changing just a few details, your story parallels my family's life. (Changing a few more details, it probably mirrors the lives of hundreds of thousands or millions of families). I would add that, whenever possible, family members should consider confronting the stigma that attaches to mental illness. When my brother first got sick, I remember clearly how all the people with broken legs, with diabetes, multiple sclerosis, got huge community support and comfort (and casseroles delivered to their door). Whereas for mental illness, my family was left with complete silence and isolation. One way of dealing with the tremendous loss you are encountering is to work to reduce this stigma so that others in your community will know more clearly how to help friends, family, and neighbors when mental illness strikes (and sometimes before it gets out of hand). Your local chapter of NAMI is a great way to start.
And, emotional abuse is emotional abuse regardless of the cause. Some of my family members with mental illness are extremely abusive, while my brother is not. He's taken the steps necessary to take care of himself emotionally and avoid abuse, even when he can't always control his mental illness. You shouldn't have to willingly subject yourself to abuse.
I experienced the same thing with my mother. My family is still in denial about how her illness affected the childhoods of my brother and me, and how it traumatized everyone. She has been stable (on medication) for two years now, for the first time in a long time, and she is enjoying a relatively nice life. Of course, now the pressure is on my brother and me to provide for her, as she cannot hold down a salaried job. All I can say is, this is life. Be thankful for the good times.
--Nkyinkyim
!
Cary's advice is excellent. The more you can learn about mental illness and its effects on the family, the less bewildered and alone you will feel. Your increased knowledge will help you depersonalize the situation while deepening your empathy for everyone involved. I believe that your relationships with your mother, father, and sister will all benefit as you become better acquainted with the illness that has your family in its grasp.
You need support from people who understand how debilitating this is. I know that here there are support groups for schizophrenia. I would call the local mental health center or talk to your medical doctor about what is going on. I would also get a medical exam. Stress can tire you out, and this letter sounds like you are under great stress.
You sound tapped out, LW. While everyone was worrying about your mother, no one worried about you. I hope you take care of yourself a little. You deserve the papmpering. Even the strongest can break.
I have no recipe for dealing with delusional siblings. Your sister has to get there for herself. She needs to respect that you need space right now. At some point she will get to where you and your father are. It's always hard to wait.
I wish you strength.
If you're looking for more sources to educate yourself, I would recommend the book "When Madness Comes Home" by Victoria Secunda. It focuses on relatives of people with mental illness, and the conflicting emotions they go through. The author's sister has schizophrenia, so she has firsthand knowledge, as well.
Good luck.
I haven’t dared delve into this subject for years. I’m in my mid-sixties; my family has been cut and torn into fragments, some have sunk, and a few have survived. Because of my mother’s illness I have siblings who are alcoholic or drug dependent, and others who “manage.” But we’ve all been so deeply damaged that almost everyday is a struggle, and almost everyday offers some kind of glorious reprieve. Even a visit to the library or going to work with people who aren’t like us is a respite.
My father is dead now, my mother still lives, but none of us are able to visit her without suffering months of depression, so none of us has seen her in more than twenty years.
We were abused, threatened, sexually harassed, and made to feel outcasts. Our friends were driven away and life descended into darkness until one day the police came and she was taken to the university hospital in our town.
I was the only one of age in our family (my father had left), and at eighteen I went before a hearing judge and asked for help. She was confined in a state mental hospital, later sent to a “home” where as far as I know she’s still cared for there.
The shadows of all that still cling to all of us. But, there is grace, there is some kind of reprieve and forgiveness, and so we continue….
The writer asks: "How do I talk to my sister? How do I deal with my mother? How do I help my family heal? And is there really no way I can help my mother get well?"
I've been there, and my answers are: You are not a shrink; you are not a saint; you are not the family savior; and, yes, there really is no way to help your mother get well. Love does not conquer psychosis.
My late mother was a paranoid schizophrenic who was finally diagnosed when I was in my late teens. Luckily my "collapse of optimism" and "surrendering the dream" happened shortly thereafter. I'd hated her so much, but when I found out she was ill, and that neither I nor anyone else in my family was causing her to become irrational and cruel, all my anger and guilt dropped away. I think this is why I've never felt the need to participate in a support group, because I've long accepted the reality of Mom's illness and the fact that, no matter how much I wished it, I could not make her well.
Self-preservation led me see Mom as little as possible. She never took her medication. Our visits were always brief and cordial, and I somehow succeeded in never saying anything that might provoke her. The price of that level of self-control was that it would take me a week to recover my equilibrium, and at some point I realized that my love for her had turned into mere coping.
And when I say I loved my mom, I mean the sweet, kind, and beautiful mother I had as a small child, before her illness overwhelmed her true nature.
It's forty years since Mom was diagnosed, twelve since she died. I have my own family now (and I'm now a grandmother), and it's the family I wish I'd grown up in. I married a man who, when we were first dating, didn't flee screaming into the night the first time he was cornered by my articulate, raging mom. He's been my rock ever since.
I wish the letter-writer happiness and some peace in her life, and above all, that she will stop expecting herself to heal those things that can never be healed.
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