It’s another holiday and another crisis from our son with mental illness. It didn’t help that the holiday was close to the full moon. It started over something simple, something which sometimes we can contain and talk him down. Unfortunately this time it just escalated, maybe because of the full moon energy or maybe because the audience of family. This time it escalated enough that we had to call the police and the EMTs. I am thankful we live in a community where our police listen to us and try to understand our son.
It is better these days because he doesn’t live with us so when this happens and they release him from the hospital he is taken back to the group home he lives. I don’t want to sound uncaring but if he would be returned back to our house there would be more emotional drama, as he would berate himself for his behavior or be sullen and moody. His going back to his group home has helped all of us. He gets a change of venue and can get back to his routine and we are able to recover from all the emotional drain.
Other things have changed too. I don’t care anymore if neighbors are on their porch staring. I have finally gotten to the place that it doesn’t matter. Although every now and then I still want to yell “what are you looking at?”. It used to bother me. I was already feeling sadness for my son, anger for it happening again and then the shame of what my neighbors think of us. “Why can’t you control him? What kind of parents are you?” Thank goodness they never say that unlike family members.
Family members are the hardest to deal with because some of them think they know the answer and are not shy to share. “You are too easy on him. Is he off his meds again?“ If I had him for a few weeks he wouldn’t behave like this.” Funny, family members would say that but no one ever stepped up to the plate to take him to their house.
Of course, that’s our extended family, those we do not have to deal with every day. We are not the only family so troubled. I have a niece who has a connection with her afflicted brother and tries to help him and even tries to prevent situations, but even she gets weary when things go wrong. She really tries to help him and tries to explain him to others but there is only so much she can do. Sometimes I see her sadness like mine because she just can’t stop the inevitable. They share another sibling who refuses to be in the same room as his brother. He refuses as he puts it “to buy in to his misery”. Sometimes I think he is really afraid he might retaliate when his brother goes off and deep down he knows hurting his brother would be wrong and won’t help anyway.
There are some things that never change. My sadness of what he goes through. My sadness around the emotional turmoil we all experience. The angst of when is the next time this will happen. Especially when we have family events, I stress about how things will go. I also worry when I see some looks in my son’s eyes. I sometimes feel like I’m walking on eggshells when he is around. This feeling makes me feel guilty, because I want to think the best but there have been too many times things have gone awry.
The other thing that never changes is the crying. I cry for him, because I know all of this is hardest on him. He doesn’t like these outbursts and feels horrible after they happen. He can’t understand why these things keep happening. He obviously doesn’t want it to happen but once he gets out of control, it seems he can’t pull back.
I cry for myself because I feel like a failure as a parent. As parents, are we not supposed to protect our children? Unfortunately, I can’t. I can support and try to help him with doctors and life management strategies, but I can’t fix it or stop it. He has a mental illness, it isn’t his fault but how do we all manage this?
The great grace I have comes from God. I think of Jeremiah 29:11 “For I know the plans I have for you” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.” I meditate on this and know no matter how difficult things are, God appointed me to be my son’s mom. God knows I am the mom to help my son. His recovery takes more than just me, it also takes him, his doctors, and God.