Feeling Sad---Son is Homeless

[Feeling Sad]

Copa, we don't trust life because of what life has given us...traumatic experiences. We are always waiting for the other shoe to drop...

I trust people, just not my life. I trust people when I shouldn't trust people. I have been beaten down into submission. I am always nice and do what is right, but it has not served me very well.

When things are always Topsy turvy and you are constantly dealing with horrific issues, how can one trust that life will be nice and peaceful?

Here is a Disneyland analogy. We want to be on Dumbo, happily sailing through life, no surprises. But, sadly , we are on Mr. Toad's Wild Ride....surprises around every turn.

 

[Copabanana]

But, more importantly, I felt like I was worth being safe. That I had value because I am a person with presence...a deserving real breathing person. I was not running away with my fear. My mind was not racing. My heart was not pounding. I slowed down. I felt important and valued by me.

Wow.

I really did not feel that I was in the equation. It could due to my numbing out or disassociation. I rarely felt fear. It would be unbearable to be mentally present through all of the years that my life was being threatened.

TI am wondering If this was how I worked in prisons for 20 years. I was never afraid one time, except of the offices and my bosses.

I am starting to realize that I am doing the best that I am able.

This is pretty wonderful.

My mantra about the trauma continues to be: it was not my fault, I could not stop it, and I didn't deserve it. I am starting to believe it more.

This too. Wow.

He started to say something. I could not understand him with his mask on. I told him just to relax and breathe and that we would talk when he is done.

I think he was saying: "I love you and thank you. And please forgive me. I love you very much."

 

[Copabanana]

We want to be on Dumbo, happily sailing through life, no surprises. But, sadly , we are on Mr. Toad's Wild Ride....surprises around every turn.

I do not want to trivialize this, but look at it another way. Life is a continuum. From Dumbo to Wild Ride.

All of the rides, Dumbo and all of them are controlled by forces beyond our control. Disneyland engineers, or terrorists, or computers, or some kid who decides to dismantle something. It is not that we have free will. Just the opposite. To a point, we can decide which ride we want to go on. Some people choose one kind of ride, others, something different. But once we are on board...the ride is largely out of our control. We can only decide how we respond. To whatever happens, and there is a way that we can decide to embrace what happens. I believe that. Largely this has to do with our temperament. But also with our attitudes, the words we tell ourselves. But there is a range of possible choices even when we have ceded control to the ride There were some people in the holocaust that prayed to G-d before they died. They remained calm and unafraid. There were some people who spit in the guards face. There were people who embraced their loved ones, and their were people who clawed and struck anybody they could, friend or foe, to escape.

I want to learn how to be one of the people who prayed to G-d and embraced my loved ones. I do not want to run from life. The reality of my life right now is so far from what I would want it to be. But you know what? I am not

 

[Feeling Sad]

Yes, what you say is true. We can control how we respond the the 'ride'.

But, you also say, that we have a choice of which ride to go on, to a point. I have been going on Wild Ride since I was 11. My schizophrenic sister, my first Vietnam vet husband, and then my schizophrenic son all threatened my life on a pretty regular basis. True, I could get off of the 'ride' with my first husband, which I did in time.

If you carry the analogy, I chose and perhaps even tolerated his abuse because I was very used to being on that scary 'ride'. But, even after the divorce I endured stalking, phone harrassment, threats, mediation, night terrors, my sons having to be with him, and the list goes on.

Then, lastly my ill son started to threaten my life after about 3 years of his illness...for about 10 years.

I was a minor most of the time with my schizophrenic sister and still lived at home. I felt responsible for my son.

I did not chose this 'ride'. Maybe, I chose the first husband 'ride'. But, I became pregnant and did the good girl from Sherman Oaks thing. I got married.

Again, he felt strangely familiar. I had been on this 'ride before. I already disassociated with ease without even realizing it.

Yes, I am handling it very well. I am trying to carry on bravely. I have the psychological scars now, as well as, the continued threat from my son. I am so burned-out, that my ptsd is intruding on my chance to have a good 'ride'.

I want to go on Dumbo. I deserve to go on Dumbo. I should not have to be brave any more. With my ptsd, my bravery still exists, but is taken over, not by my choice, by unfettered fear. I am brave still, but my body is betraying me at every turn at night...alone.

I want to sail through life. It is my turn. I deserve one turn on that 'ride'.

I guess, I got to ride on Dumbo for my first 11 years of life. But, I was unable to truly cherish it for what it was; a fun, safe life.

To continue the analogy. I used to love the Storybook Ride. You go aboard a little boat which takes you through a sweet charming ride alongside miniature lit up houses that correspond with well-known fairy tales and stories. Mr Toad's huge Toad's Hall is on this ride. It is not scary on this ride.

This 'ride' is more true to life. We just see quick glimpses into their seemingly happy lives. The lights are on in the quaint houses. They have perfectly manicured yards and gardens. Laughter and cheerful music is heard across the green lawn by us on our Storybook boat.

But, what is really going on in these seemingly idyllic abodes. Are things being thrown? Are people being threatened? Are people afraid? I dare say, that might be a truer 'ride'.

Or am I just reflecting upon it now, through my Mr. Toad's Wild Ride eyes?

 

[Copabanana]

Maybe, I chose the first husband 'ride'.

Again, he felt strangely familiar. I had been on this 'ride before. I already disassociated with ease without even realizing it.

I chose and perhaps even tolerated his abuse because I was very used to being on that scary 'ride'.

Well, I resonate with this very much. I am questioning whether I sought out and tolerated prisons because this environment was ego-syntonic, what felt right to me. Chaos. Danger. Lack of safety.

In this last prison that I quit at the end of September, something happened that was typical. In a group session, when I asked a patient to please stop disrupting the group, or leave. He rose suddenly, advanced at me, yelling. I did not move or back away and quietly faced him and said: Please leave and do not return. He yelled a bit more and then retreated, while yelling, and calling me nasty words.

The other inmates were stunned by my conduct. One of them said that there was not one other staff member in the prison who would not have hit their alarm, to call for back up.

This was an anger management group. I felt called upon to manage conflict and boundaries.

I asked the group, did I look afraid? Because I had not felt afraid. Not a bit. The same inmate said, just a startle response, when he came at you.

You see, at the time, I thought this was a fine quality, this fearlessness on my part. This was 2 or 3 months ago. Now I feel it was PTSD.

I am so burned-out, that my ptsd is intruding on my chance to have a good 'ride'.

There are choices involved for each of us, Feeling. We can begin to heal. This is a fork in the road that we have reached and found each other at the same place. The same decision point.

Today I found a number for a crisis center in my city that works with women who have suffered violence, abuse and victimization of one sort or another. I am going to call them.

I want to go on Dumbo. I deserve to go on Dumbo. I should not have to be brave any more.

This is a strong choice, here.

I am brave still, but my body is betraying me at every turn at night...alone.

There are different ways to understand this. Your body may be telling the truth. The Truth is in the Body. Is there a book by this name? Years ago I went to a workshop and read a book called The Courage to Heal. It was for sexual abuse survivors. But it could apply more generally, too. You are very courageous. I am too. But our courage we have used to defend against terror. Now we can decide to courageously heal.

Your body is telling your truth. Don't you think?

Mr Toad's huge Toad's Hall is on this ride. It is not scary on this ride.

As I see it for myself my mandate is to construct for the rest of my life the kind of ride I want and need, and to do this consciously and deliberately. Not deal with what comes based upon what has come before.

Honestly, I am not sure how to do it. But I am trying to make choices that help me learn. Little by little. I am very frightened, for so many reasons. I am afraid I will have to let go of aspects of my life that are comfortable. I am afraid that if I face my current circumstances I will find that these too, may be choices I continue to make because I have a history of terror, and choosing for others, instead of for myself.

I am afraid because I believe there is no turning back now. And sometimes, like right this second, I want to.

You were forced onto this road because of the escalation of your son's illness. You were forced to choose. But you had the courage to do so.
Where we go from here, and what we do, are unclear. Unknown. But we do have the capacity, indeed the mandate to choose.

Honestly, I wish it was different for us, Feeling. I wish we could just be, like it seems so many other people live. I wish it was all just not so hard. Maybe it is a fantasy, an illusion, that other people live on the Dumbo ride. I do not know. But this is real. We cannot pretend otherwise, any longer, I do not think.

 

[Feeling Sad]

You are right, Copa. We have the courage to start making choices for ourselves...what is best for us and not always worry about others.

Your prison experience does sound like ptsd. There is a large proportion of abused or traumatized people who go into the helping fields...to nurture. We want to help others. I think that it goes even further than being comfortable with it. Where someone else would run for the hills, we are drawn to it. Perhaps, we want to 'fix' issues in others' lives that we could not in our own.

I worked in horrible areas in the San Fernando Valley on child abuse and child neglect cases in college. I was a 'spy' in a sense. Some of the mothers were mentally unstable and the father's were sexual inappropriate. Sometimes both parents were violent. They did not know that I knew that they were currently going to court and that I reported to protective services. Not a safe situation. My mother would have been very upset with me. In retrospect, I would not have blamed her.

Yes, we are brave, but, perhaps numb, as well. We are driven to help others, but our danger self-regulator is malfunctioning.

I have slept with almost every light in the house turned on. I turned off the ones clear across the house tonight, but I am feeling very spooked.

I have started to collect antique portraits from the 1700s and 1800s. I bought 2 up north on my recent trip. Both are paintings of men. I wish now that I hadn't. Dark shadow make them look very menacing. You cannot tell from their faces if they were friendly. One is gigantic...at about 4 feet tall. I am now thinking about the possibility of residual spirits. Ha ha ha... I want to turn the lights back on, but I do not want to go back out there in the dark.

Quite a quandary. Hmmm....brave? It is strange that I am not afraid in truly life threatening situations, yet in other safe situations, I cannot choose to just 'numb' out. I guess that my body does not feel the need to because it is not truly dangerous.

I still do not want to go out there right now, though. I own hundreds of antiques. In fact, I sleep in an antique bed. It is just my lousy ptsd.

Copa, pleasant 'benadryl free' dreams. We will help each other.

How is dear Leafy doing?

 

[Feeling Sad]

The difficult part is not knowing how my ill son is. I know that I did not have any good options and that I needed to keep us all safe, my youngest son from him and him from himself.

I miss him every moment of every day. I busy myself with 'life' and then during a lull...it all comes rushing in. I feel as though I will never stop aching until the day I die. I hate schizophrenia and the mental health 'system', or lack, thereof.

 

[Feeling Sad]

I had to turn the lights back on....stupid. I am going to have quite an electricity bill. Oh, well. I stopped drinking coffee because of my nerves, so I guess that it is a trade off.

 

[BusynMember]

Please don't feel weak about the lights. Darkness spooks out many brave people. And you are brave. Schizophrenia, which I saw when I admitted myself to a psyche hospital for ten weeks (I was pregnant with suicidal depression, not for the first time) is absolutely horrific. So many obviously bright, kind people are afflicted. One moment they would be making sense. The next moment they "switched off" and started talking about nonsense and unreality. Or theyd get into fights with other patients. I felt so bad for them.

I swore I would try to help those who were sicker than me. I was only 23. I learned that even severe bipolar can be stabilized quickly, but that even with medication many schizophrenics still had hallucinations and unreality. Of course the medications were not as good back then. I hurt for your family.

I hope your son is arrested...that is one way he could be forced to get help. And you could see him again.

Unlike many adult children, your son cant help his behavior and I have a special tenderness toward all of you. My heart breaks for you all and I hope your son is found and forced into treatment for his sake and yours. This is not unlikely. Jail is the new mental health system and referral system.

 

[Copabanana]

I have started to collect antique portraits from the 1700s and 1800s. I bought 2 up north on my recent trip. Both are paintings of men.

I would try to sell them on Ebay and make some money.

Feeling. With respect to missing your son, and fearing you won't see him--over that you have no control, that is true. But that does not mean you have to go to the dark side. Believe you will never again in your life see him. Because that is something that you cannot know. Nobody can.

I believe truly that you will. It is just that you do not know when or how. There is not only doubt, there is a complete black-out on information, control.

You turn that against yourself and start beating yourself up. It becomes a symptom. Because of your guilt. And you know very clearly and well, that your lifetime has given you a mountain of residual guilt. A reservoir in waiting to turn on yourself. So you batter yourself: I will never see him. (And all kinds of other horrible things.) These are symptoms. Symptoms have two important elements: they are expressive (in that they convey a wish) and they are punitive, against the self.

Every. single. time you think to yourself, I will never see my son, it Is a symptom, and a way to punish yourself, for driving him away. Which you actually did not do. You were a victim of circumstance.

And all of the fear, with the noises, those are symptoms too. Indirect ways of attacking yourself for your crimes. And what were your crimes? Saving yourself and your children. Big, big crimes.

I am having a difficult time now, too. Different but the same. We are on the road to contentment, to knowing our purpose and ourselves, to power in our worlds, that comes from a sense of knowing and accepting ourselves and our lives.

I say that while in the wilderness, and not knowing how and what will get me to that place of safety, that refuge. But I will say it, so that I know the importance, the vital importance of the quest. The road to contentment, safety, acceptance, understanding.

Take this seriously, Feeling. Not just the fear and pain of it but the power too. Your power.

 

[Feeling Sad]

I am very sorry about my long absence... I have been dealing with fear now living alone while completing report cards and taking 2 classes.

I am still going through the agonizing torture of missing my schizophrenic son, while fearing him at the same time and, thus, being afraid to be alone in the dark in my house.

I have become a bit of an advocate for change and have written several legislators. I received a very thoughtful response from Senator Creigh Deeds, whose paranoid schizophrenic son repeatedly stabbed him and then committed suicide. He was surprised at the lack of response by the police in my case. He has helped to bring about changes in the laws. He tried to get his son, Gus, committed, but they were asked to leave after waiting because no beds were available. The incident happened the next morning.

A great site that I have read for years for information is www.treatmentadvocacycenter.org

I recommend reading the article "Raising Cain: The Role of Serious Mental Illness in Family Homicides".

A woman living at risk of her violent schizophrenic son wrote very eloquently:

''The thought of being attacked and physically harmed by another is frightening in itself, but when the attacker is your own flesh and blood, it is additional, unspeakable trauma upon trauma, as your whole body sways between love and fear".

"If a stranger were to be the attacker, you would automatically try to defend yourself, but when it is the one you love, you only try to run because your love would bind your hands".

This is why I only had a locked door and put mace by my bed...

The article states that "better data should be collected on nonlethal assaults carried out by family members with a serious mental illness. Completed homicides are merely the tip of the iceberg".

"Since women, especially older women, appear to be disproportionately victimized by sons and grandsons with serious mental illness, studies are needed that focus on the care giving role of such women and alternative living arrangements for their ill family members."

Often families are being told by the police that "we can't do anything until he or she demonstrates dangerousness. All too often such demonstrations have fatal consequences".

Three years ago, when I called the police after my son had threatened to "cut up my face", they merely told me to get an eviction and asked if I had a place to stay.

During the last incident, when my son was arguing with his voices about not wanting to kill me, they merely asked why I hadn't filed an eviction yet and told me that "it did not count as a viable threat because he did not tell me to my face". I told them that a command hallucination is much more dangerous. They wanted me to go in ALONE and ask him to come to the door. I told them that he was a paranoid schiztophrenic and that he would not go to the door.They again asked if I had a place to stay.

All 3 officers later lied to their commanding officer when there was a potential disciplinary action and said that they had offered to come into my house and that I had TURNED THEM DOWN.

"Stigma against people with mental illness will not decrease until we decrease the number of mentally ill individuals who commit violent acts, including family homicides".

I am very sad, yet extremely angry at the status quo of the present mental health system, or lack thereof.

I am sorry. This is completely opposite of 'tis the season to be jolly', but it is how I feel.

I hope that you and yours find peace during the holidays.

 

[T Rene']

I am new to this site. I have a son who is 35 and has paranoid schizophrenia. He lived in his car for a year 10 years ago in a different state because I had gone into his room when he was not home due to flooding. After a year, he returned home. He told me later that " a man kept following him" up there. I got an apartment for him, but he did not charge his phone and would not let us in the gated complex. He did not go to schoo, see friends,l or work. After 4 months he came back home to live.
I have been trying in vain to get him to see a doctor for the last 9 years. I have 2 sisters with schizophrenia and am a special education teacher. I feel guilty because of my DNA, as well as, not being able to help my son while I am able to help others.
He has become increasingly more violent by threatening to kill me and destroying a lot of things. My youngest son is 23 and keeps a knife by his bed for safety. My ill son stabbed my kitchen cabinets and threw objects with such force that they would go through the vinyl flooring to the cement.
The game changer came when he had destroyed the 3rd computer. I became tighter with money and refused to go out with him until he got help. After 10 days of being firm, I said no again to going out to get fast food. He then said that he would have to break something. He started drooling, which he does when he is really psychotic. My youngest son came around the corner and gave me a look as if inquiring, "What is wrong?" I smiled and waved him off because I did not want him to get hurt. He was just leaving. I went around the corner to watch t.v. to try to diffuse the situation. He then started singing, "Ding Dong the Witch is Dead". He talks to voices in his room and does not know that I can hear him through the walls. After a while of his talking to his voices I heard him say, "I don't want to kill her. She's my mother". Then he said,"Uh uh. I understand."
Three rounds of this and I ran out to my car. My son had complied with his voices in the past and my sister did when I was little. I asked for a crisis trained officer but was told that I will get who is nearest. The 3 officers had no empathy and refused to even go into the house. They said that legally they could not do anything because he had not threatened me to my face. I said that he has in the past many times. In fact I had called them 2 years ago when he had threatened to cut my face up. At that time they just told me to evict him. I begged them to help me because he had threatened to kill me several times if I call the police and he saw us out the window. They told me to get a restraining order the next day.
My youngest son and I spent 6 days in a hotel while I went to court for an emergency restraining order. I spoke with numerous agencies to try and get an involuntary trreatment in place. I was scared of my son, but also scared for my son.
While the plan was in action, I was kept down the street. My youngest son let a behavioral health worker in while 5 officers secretly took positions. The worker tried to talk to my son through his door for about 5 minutes and there was no response. Then the police grabbed him and pulled him out. He made up a lie about talking out loud when he writes and that he was only joking about killing me. Although he has not worked, gone to school, or seen friends in 9 years, they said that he was acting okay and did not qualify for hospitalization. They served him with the restraining order that had a move out order and then escorted him out of the neighborhood in his car.
I have been told by several therapists that it was a very dangerous situation and to change the locks and put in an alarm system. I am very nervous and have had nightmares. I cannot tell you how it feels to be afraid of your own son. I have read that paranoid schizophrenics who kill usually kill the mother and it is often while the mother is trying to get her son into treatment.
My heart is breaking. My son is now homeless, ill, and scared. He will not go to a shelter because he is afraid of people. I do not know where he is. I can't sleep and cry all the time. Crazy as it sounds, I drove around twice trying to find him. I know that I had to keep my 23 year old son safe, but I am going crazy with fear of my other son being hurt or killing himself. He can't come home because of the restraining order. I have been told that if I am lucky he will be arrested or brought in due to strange behavior. I need help...

Prayers are with you...Here we all care

 

[Copabanana]

Feeling. I have been worried and had I not heard from you today I was going to contact you.

I have become a bit of an advocate for change and have written several legislators.

Good. I have been advocating this for you all along (I used to hate it when my Aunt Rose would say, something like "I always told you that, Copa. Don't you remember?" Well, now I know it must be genetically determined and she could not help herself.

A great site that I have read for years for information is www.treatmentadvocacycenter.org

Thank you Feeling. I will check it out.

when the attacker is your own flesh and blood, it is additional, unspeakable trauma upon trauma, as your whole body sways between love and fear".

This is a horrible, terrifying and completely accurate representation of the response to trauma that comes from a loved one, not just our children. For my whole adult life I have been afraid of many men. I wanted to marry and have the "normal" life of a woman, but felt suspended between want and terror. By reading this quote I have more forgiveness of myself.

Feeling. I am glad to hear from you. The site felt empty for me, without you, like I was missing a piece of myself while I was here.

How are you other two sons, particularly the one up north?

Can you say after me? Chinese Crested.

Carrie Fisher had a service dog named "Gary" who had the same look but is a French Bulldog. I feel sad about her death and that of her mother, who I had not realized was a hard-working advocate for the mentally ill, and their families.

 

[Feeling Sad]

I have missed you too, Copa.

My son up north came down and surprised me the Sunday morning at 1:00 A.M. before Christmas and my youngest flew to S.F. that same day with his girlfriend on his first vacation in 4 years. They even drove down to Monterey...

My middle son went back on Thursday...just missing my youngest returning to town.

My middle son told me not to 'guilt trip' him by asking him to stay longer. He was sick most of the time. We went just out to lunch on Sunday and the used book store. I was still teaching until Wednesday. On a side note, I held our Winter Break Party on Tuesday. I surprise the class by turning the classroom into a fancy restaurant with a hostess who asks how many are in their party and another that seats them..with their decorated placemat. A waitress serves them chicken noodle soup and they are invited to partake in specials at the buffet table...very elegant.

My middle son is still extremely depressed, speaking of being suicidal, refusing to see a doctor for medications, or see a ctherapist. He said that he does not know if he is going to pass his classes because he cant concentrate and if he doesnt, he will have to leave the on campus garage he sleeps in. He said that he wants to go back to being homeless again...because it is 'freeing'. I told him that I could help him with a house and he said that is an idea we are sold...work all if your life to pay for a house and then die...

Needless to say, it was a very difficult visit. He then apologized a few days later.

Then, I caught the plaque. We are both still depressed about my eldest and not knowing how he is doing.

 

[Copabanana]

that is an idea we are sold...work all if your life to pay for a house and then die...

Well. This is uplifting.

Kind of him to share.

As does my son.

With my son, I know that he does it exactly to guilt trip me, to make me suffer, because I do. I cooperate. I oblige him. He has power over me this way. Power to evoke a response. You decide about the motivations of your own son.

If he did not have initiative. He would have stopped school a year ago. He is doing it because he has fight in him.

My son has not worked in almost 5 years, except for us.

Nonetheless, I am glad he came home. (He was gone 5 weeks. He did not want to take a drug test.)

I think your son tries to throw you the hot potato. Remember that game? He feels guilt, makes himself suffer, in ways he seems to as yet be unable to control. Except, if he shares his suffering with you, for a moment he feels better. Or is it he is unconsciously punishing you. Because he holds you responsible in some way, for ejecting his brother.

You know the truth. You know why you had to do it. You can decide to not accept the hot potato. To say no. If you were able to do this, be able to reclaim your life, and self--you would model this to middle son, that he can do the same.

We are getting there, Feeling. The long and winding road. That leads....

 

[Feeling Sad]

My middle son has always been a bit of a bohemian hippie type. He buys cheap tee shirts with funny pictures on them from the dollar store or thrift shop. He even has a tie dyed one. He has never bought into the new car and big house thinking. He eats very healthy foods.

I think that it is both. He is chronically depressed and he holds me...on some level responsible.

He feels that it was my gamble that I chose to take with my poor genes that produced my ill son. Then he brought up that staying married so long with his father was bad on his ill brother and himself. Lastly, he brought up a time when I got upset with my schizophrenic son.

I came home one day with my fairly large backyard divided into 2 halves. My meandering faux 'stream' was gone and the river stones were in a huge pile in the corner on my 'half'. My patio table was placed on a large piece of plywood in the center of the yard...slightly on my 'half' and every statue or pot was placed onto it or in disarray beside it. The large rounded boulders that once surrounded my planter were now in a straight line, dividing the yard vertically into two halves. He threw in some old rain gutters and long pieces of wood for good measure to further delineate the yard, just in case you missed it.

My green ivy-patterned metal arbor was on its side, on my half. The pedestal and large urn that were beneath it were both dragged away onto my half.

But the worst part was that he had dismantled and broken up my quaint little white potting shed. I had tolerated tooth paste being smeared all over, sirachi sauce squirted onto the ceiling and velvet antique settee, spaghetti sauce with meat splattered all over the family room walls, and even urine on the rug and elsewhere. He smashed a special water pitcher and bowl that had belonged to my mother so hard at my feet, that it ripped through the vinyl flooring to expose the cement. He stabbed up my kitchen cabinets and counters with a knife. Three computers, a t.v., and my parents large marble Danish modern table from my childhood were destroyed. He slowly broke each of the 6 large etched glass globes on my antique chandelier over several years. These things I took fairly in stride. I was 'beaten' into submission. It had become never-ending.

But, I really liked the cute potting shed. It had, key word 'had', a nice little porch in brick in front that I had made with a white wrought-iron bench on it. The bricks were all tossed into a pile...slightly over the 'border' onto my territory.

My country English garden was gone. I just stood there in shock. They I started to ask, maybe a little upset, "Whhhhyyyyy???"...

He always ran off to his room very quickly and closed the door. I just stood there repeating the question.

My middle son told me that I had been 'mean' to him. He he told me that my ill son was just trying to make the yard look better. He told me that I shouldn't have been so concerned with 'material' items, but, rather, in my son's emotional state.

I told him that I was usually very patient and endured a lot, but that he should have asked me before tearing down my potting shed...that had cute shuttered windows and a sweet Dutch door...and that my 3 sons used to play in when they were young...before all of this...

My middle son told that I should have 'appreciated' the 'better' days more before my ill son got worse.

He really doesn't think that I kick myself every day? That I don't replay events that, if done somehow differently, could have altered his unending march into his delusions and psychotic states? REALLY???

 

[Copabanana]

Feeling. This is the saddest post you have written.

If I could turn off the way I feel right now I would. And I am only reading this post, not living it.

I die inside hearing about the darling potting shed where your children played. And your error, to ask "why?" To once ask why, and to one time step outside of your asylum and act, to save your son, yourself and to give your ill son a chance?

There is an element of cruelty here. The assumption that your role as martyr is so determined and circumscribed and set in stone, because you wanted to be a mother, because you for once would not tolerate your body being killed off, let alone your spirit.

The idea that you were supposed to be perfect. Perfectly supportive when your world was falling apart. Your son was falling to pieces, Feeling, what in the world were you supposed to do? Play some fake movie self? Your middle son it appears is almost as cruel to himself. Almost. I am sorry, Feeling. But tolerating this will not make it better.

I do not know what you are going to do. Your middle son is mistreating himself and you.

I envision you one of these days deciding to get angry. No longer at yourself but just howling. Getting howling mad. There was that movie years ago, where the main character, a newscaster rose up one day in front of the camera screaming: "I'm not going to take it anymore." And with that you will say, no more abuse. From myself or from anybody else.

This is going to take a decision, Feeling. A decision by you. Nobody is going to nor is capable of giving you permission, and nobody will.

I think you are getting close, Feeling.

Repeat after me: Chinese Crested.

On a happier note your elegantly served lunch in the classroom sounded like a blast. Thank G-d you have your work in which to demonstrate your true worth and be appreciated for it.

 

[Feeling Sad]

Copa, I actually told my middle son that I couldn't take it anymore at that very discussion. He was telling me, yet again, that he was not sure what was going to happen to him.

I told him, "I can't take it anymore. I keep telling and begging you to see a doctor and get help. You won't go with me to see one. You won't see a doctor up there. What else can I do???"

He answered, "Mom, normally when someone is saying that they are suicidal, you don't get mad at them. You are kind and supportive"...

Then I felt scared that I had taken a misstep and quickly changed my demeanor.

I think that the problem is that I grew up in Sherman Oaks and took stupid Cotillion and etiquette courses...

My mom only swore once. She was driving us all back from our piano lessons and we were being somewhat rowdy in the back of the station wagon. She said, "Will you damn children be quiet?" Then she quickly said, "Pardon my French". Even in elementary school, I knew that damn was not French. Mais, non!

But, my schiztophrenic sister threatening my life quickly took "The Donna Reed Show" off of my personal primetime...to be replaced by "The Outer Limits". Note- younger readers will have to Google "The Donna Reed Show".

I actually ran into Tom Peterson down at the A&W Root Beer Drive-in in his big Cadillac. Boy, was he conceited! Note- drive-ins.

 

[BusynMember]

Sad, you are in a terrible situation
I actually agree with your sons values and have happily lived a simple life. But just as he is allowed his feeling, you are allowed yours and he is not allowed to destroy your property. How he did it was aggressive and violent. This is so not okay.

There is something terribly wrong with him too, and you know it. But you also know you can't make him get help or even to believe help helps. Many adult kids pick up a pot cigarette or drink and claim this cures all, yet they are still a mess. But if we suggest another option...we are rebuffed.

I think your situation with mental illness is sadder than drug abuse as it was never a choice for any of you not to live with it. And unlike other mental illnesses a person's sense of reality is impaired to the point where the person could easily and truly think his health professionals are part of a plot to kill him and that the medication is really poison. I pray your middle son is not developing this.

Have you thought of no joining a NAMI group to get real time support? I think there is help for caregivers, which is your category, I believe. This is too big to try to do all alone. It involves guilt, pain, fear, confusion, grieving...a neutral trained third party could give you a fresh, helpful point of view. Many of us still hurt, which gives you empathy and understanding but it is colored in different ways by our own pain and our own beliefs. And how we deal with our unrelenting pain or don't deal with it.

A trained third party saved my sanity and directed my thinking in surprising ways more than once. And I needed a fresh way to perceive things. Perhaps you do too, rather than recycling the painful thoughts that you deal with day after day.

I could never have gotten to a good, calm place without outside help where the person who talked to me was univolved in every way...but kind and wise. I chose psychologists and for less serious things I just saw gifted therapists, usually women.

I am so sorry for your situation. I hope you reach out beyond this forum to heal your soul. Lots of love and light your way. Do take care. And keep posting. We do care.

 

[Copabanana]

"Mom, normally when someone is saying that they are suicidal, you don't get mad at them. You are kind and supportive"...

He is wrong.

Normally, when somebody is saying they are suicidal, 911 is called. It is considered an emergency. Someone who knows the suicidal individual tells the crisis team this: their behavior, as reported by them, has progressively deteriorated: their functioning more and more impaired, concentration impaired, hopelessness, decreased appetite and weight loss, impaired sleep, and they have made repeated suicidal statements, that they feel they want to kill themselves, and want to die.

This is the protocol of dealing with suicidal statements.

This middle son is doing nothing to treat depression. He could go to the campus clinic any time. He could call the suicide line. He could seek out a pastor or rabbi. From what I estimate to be his location, he could go to the Zen Center which is within a half hour's drive.

Yet his chosen way to deal with himself, as an adult who knows what his mother has gone through, and is still going through: is to torture his mother more.

The normal response to torture is to scream, not kindness and support of your tormentor. Yet, you did not scream. Quietly you told the truth:

I told him, "I can't take it anymore. I keep telling and begging you to see a doctor and get help. You won't go with me to see one. You won't see a doctor up there. What else can I do???"

He answered, "Mom, normally when someone is saying that they are suicidal, you don't get mad at them. You are kind and supportive"...

What you do is call 911 every single time he infers depression whether he is at home or where he lives or any other place.

Normally, when somebody is saying that they can't take it anymore, you don't continue to torture them. You are kind and supportive.

Feeling. We, each of us, is in a version of the same situation. A vice-like hold between the devil and the deep blue sea. Somehow, by levitation, snake charmers, spirituality, calling Superman or James Bond, I don't know how, we have to get ourselves out of the grip.

I am there, too. That mother who you quoted yesterday told the truth for many, many of us.

I feel better, myself, after writing this post. Because if I can understand and have empathy for your position (in that vice) I can feel it for my own.

Feeling. We are getting there. We are finding compassion for ourselves. I am so grateful. I may get a Chinese Crested, myself.