March...

Ah Spring! A time for new beginnings and new life! I love the spring, especially March. Here in the desert, March holds the perfect weather. Its not too hot, not too cold. The wild flowers start to bloom and driving down a once brown and rocky road becomes so simply wonderful. The purples, oranges and yellows are everywhere, lining the highways and the gravel yards in the neighborhoods. I can honestly say that March is possibly the most beautiful month in all of Arizona!

As much as I love March, it marks a very dark time for me. Two years ago, this March, marks the last time I ever saw or spoke to Susan. It marks a very defining time for me.

Growing up with my mom was strange to say the least. My sister, brother, and I were the heads of the household. We were the ones that kept things functioning. My sister worked a full time job at a Bakery to pay the majority of our bills. My brother and his seemingly optimistic attitude was the glue that held us all together and kept us from killing each other. I had babysitting jobs after school and on the weekends so that I could buy my own necessities and help pitch in to the household finances.

In a very strange, and very real way, we raised Susan. Susan was never capable of taking care of herself, and her dependence on us for love, shelter and food was very apparent. She relied on us to survive, for without us, she would not be able to live a somewhat normal life on her own.

This did not change, even when we all grew up and went our own ways. Simply going to college or moving out with roommates, or on our own, was not an option. For every time you turned around, there was Susan, always needing something; a place to live, a car to drive, a meal to eat, a shower to take... We would take turns bringing Susan in, like a bad fruit cake that is passed around and re-gifted every Christmas. She would spend a few months with a roommate, then at my apartment, then in her Van out in a parking lot, then at my sister's, then at my brother's, and so on and so on in a long and vicious cycle.

In January of 2009, it was my turn. Susan was homeless again. Her illness made her incapable of holding a job, or a place to live for that matter. Her 500 dollar disability check did little for her, and any spending money she had went to car insurance and weekly trips to the Dollar Store.

I never wanted her to live with me, and I always promised myself that each time would be the last, yet time after time, I took her in. I felt an enoromous obligation to taking care of her. The guilt was indescribable and unbearable. She was like a 58 year old child that just never left their parent's house. How do you turn your child away? How do you throw them out on the street to fend for themselves when you know they are not ready?

Seeing Susan alone and homeless was heartbreaking, yet maddening and the same time. I hated her so much that I couldn't stand to even hear her voice, but at the same time, loved her so much that I couldn't stand the thought of her not having a bed to lay on at night.

When I brought Susan in the final time, I already knew that it would not last. Past cohabitation had always ended badly. I knew that it was only a matter of time before I would have to kick her out and it would be someone elses' turn to deal with her for as long as they could stand.

I told her, "Mom, you can come stay with us, but you have to promise to see a counselor. You seem very depressed". Of course, this was only my way of trying to force her into some kind of professional's office. If I had told her that she had to see a Psychiatrist then she would have refused outright. I was still clinging to a thread of hope that somehow, I could help her get the help she needed. She agreed to my conditions, but of course, it never happened.

At first things were fine (that's how it always started out) and my husband didn't even seem to mind her presence. He had never seen Susan "in action" and while he had heard stories of her illness, and knew that there was something not right with her, he seemed happy and content with her staying with us. My daughter was ecstatic at the concept of "GrandSue" staying with us. I, on the other hand, was constantly on edge, waiting for the ticking time bomb to explode.

Over the next few weeks, my house seemed to darken with her presence. Her good behavior started to fade and she started acting strange again. I could hear her conversations with the voices through the walls and wouldn't see her for days at a time while she hid out in her bedroom. I remember lying in bed one night and I told my husband, "Just so you know, she is going to accuse you of molesting Kaitlyn. Get ready".

I can honestly say that 80% of Susan's delusions and hallucinations were of a sexual nature. She was OBSESSED with the idea of children being molested and raped. As a child she used to follow me around the house, interrogating me, trying to find out who was molesting me and who was hurting me. As a teenager she did not allow me to leave the house, since the voices told her that I was performing oral sex on all the male neighbors. She was convinced that I was a sex addict, who was hooked on drugs and alcohol, and ran around with all the men in the neighborhood, having sex with every single one of them. I was an "Evil Slut" in her eyes, and she was not afraid to make it known. As far as she was concerned, any man who would associate themselves with an evil and repulsive person such as me, must be either a Rapist or a Pedophile.

She had filed CPS reports before. Once against my ex-husband, and at other times threatened to report my ex-father-in-law and a guy that I dated for a short period. She filed reports against me, claiming that I was aiding in molesting my own daughter. She heard voices tell her that horrible and unspeakable things were happening to my daughter. It made me sick to my stomach.

Things took a turn for the worst when she started following my husband around the house. It was like the only place he could be alone was the bathroom. I was so mad and I would yell at her, "Leave him alone! You have no right to follow him around! He's not hurting anyone!" It didn't seem to phase her delusions, and her belief in his Pedophilia only strengthened with each day that went by.

One day, as my husband read our daughter a book in her room, Susan stood outside the door, staring at him. Staring as if she was trying to kill him with her eyes. I told her, "Mom, he is not molesting Kaitlyn. Leave him alone. He was kind enough to take you into his house and this is how you thank him? How dare you!" She stormed off in a huff to the kitchen, but that didn't stop me from following her. I was trying to plead with her that whatever it was she was seeing or hearing, was not real, As I had done what seems to be a hundred times before.

She shouted, "Well, SOMEONE around here has to protect her!"

That was it, that was the moment. That was the one thing that I needed to hear. That was my "OK" to get her the hell out of my house.

I don't remember much after that. I remember screaming at her. Unloading all the hatred and rage I had for her. My anger took over and it seemed that I had no control over what was happening next.

That's when Kaitlyn walked in. She saw me, she saw "GrandSue", and she began to cry. Susan pointed, "Look at her! Look at what you are doing to her!"

I lost it....

"Look at what YOU are doing to her! Look at what you have done to me! My whole life I have put up with you, you crazy bitch! NO MORE! I am done with you! I hate you! Get the fuck out of my house! I never want to see you again!"

The memory is very vague. I don't remember many details besides that. I remember shoving her out of my front door, almost knocking her over, and slamming the door in her face. I ran into her room and started to throw all her things into garbage bags. I grabbed her clothes, and threw everything outside on the front step.

After I closed the door for the last time I stopped dead in my tracks. Looking back, I think I must have been in shock. It took me a minute to realize that what had just happened was real. Realization of the situation hit me like a Semi-truck and I crumpled into my husbands arms. The pain and relief I felt was overwhelming. I knew that it was over. I knew that I would never see her or hear her again.

And that was it...

23 years of living in a living hell. 23 years of taking care of her. 23 years of guilt and obligation. 23 years of coexisting love and hate. 23 years of living on the brink of my own insanity... all gone and over within 3 minutes. One argument, one last time. The time that enough was enough and I was not strong enough to hold on any longer. The time I was finally ready to let go and realize that my happiness mattered. That I deserved a normal life, a normal family. It all just fell into place. I was finally done with her, finally free of her...

I cannot say that I am proud of the events of that day two years ago. I cannot say that I was the bigger person in the whole thing. I can say one thing. For the first time in my life I made a choice to let go of all hope for her. I realized her fate and accepted it. I knew once and for all that I could never help her, that no one ever could. That holding on to any hope was only fooling myself.

I let go of Susan. The most wonderful, difficult, horrible, blissful, painful, liberating thing I have ever done in my life. There is not a single day that goes by that I don't think of my mom. There is not a day that goes by that I don't think to myself, "Maybe I could try one last time. Maybe I can still save her. Maybe this time will be different".

I still suffer a deep pain for Susan, I think I always will. If only I could have helped her.

Anosognosia: The most dangerous symptom of all?

Anosognosia. Sounds like a funny word, but it is not something to be taken lightly. It is my opinion that Anosognosia is the most detrimental symptom linked to Mental Illnesses and other Mental Disabilities. Wikipedia defines Anosognosia as:

"Anosognosia /ano·sog·no·sia/ (an-o″so-no´zhah) is a condition in which a person who suffers disability seems unaware of the existence of his or her disability. Unlike denial, which is a defense mechanism, Anosognosia is rooted in physiology (for example, damage to the frontal or parietal lobe due to illness and disease). This may include unawareness of quite dramatic impairments, such as blindness or paralisys."

It goes on and gives a brief reference in relation to Psychology...

"Although largely used to describe unawareness of impairment after brain injury or stroke, the term 'anosognosia' is occasionally used to describe the lack of insight shown by some people who suffer from Psychosis, and who therefore do not have the insight to recognize that they suffer from a mental illness. There is also evidence that schizophrenic anosognosia may be the result of frontal lobe damage"

Anosognosia is also described on www.treatmentandadvocacycenter.org...

"Impaired awareness of illness (anosognosia) is a major problem because it is the single largest reason why individuals with schizophrenia and bipolar disorder do not take their medications. It is caused by damage to specific parts of the brain, especially the right hemisphere. It affects approximately 50 percent of individuals with schizophrenia and 40 percent of individuals with bipolar disorder. When taking medications, awareness of illness improves in some patients.

Impaired awareness of illness is a strange thing. It is difficult to understand how a person who is sick would not know it. Impaired awareness of illness is very difficult for other people to comprehend. To other people, a person’s psychiatric symptoms seem so obvious that it’s hard to believe the person is not aware he/she is ill."

Understanding that there is an actual condition that prevents those who suffer with Mental Illnesses from seeing their illness is important. After having many discussions with other family members of those who suffer with Mental Illnesses, mainly Schizophrenia, I have come to the conclusion that the majority of the frustration revolves around their loved ones inability to recognize that they suffer with a serious problem.

When it comes to Schizophrenia, where delusional behavior/beliefs and hallucinations are involved, the problem and the chances of convincing the Ill person of their condition only becomes more challenging.

Many people find it hard to understand and accept that people who suffer with Schizophrenia truly live in their own reality. How can they possibly hear something that no one else can and not realize that there is something wrong with that?

It is all relative. When they hear a voice, it is because they really hear it. Or when they see something, they really see it. You and I may not see or hear it, so we say that it is not real and does not exist. we must understand that they do, in fact, experience these things.

How does one convince another that something that is real, and is right there in front of their face, is not real?

I feel this is one of the areas involving Mental Illness, where involuntary commitment is ideal, and I say that in my personal opinion. Considering it is the single largest reason that those who suffer with Psychotic Disorders do not take their medications, and that the effects of Anosognosia can be improved with medication, I do not see another option. That's just my two cents.

Unfortunately, when it comes to Anosognosia, I have no ideas or solutions to offer. I struggled with this very issue my entire life as I myself and literally dozens of others, tried to convince Susan that there was something wrong with her. However, understanding the condition and realizing that it is not simply denial of an ill family member is helpful and can bring you peace of mind.

Awareness is empowerment!

Moving... Ugh...

I am currently in the process of moving. I LOATHE moving. I am 25 and this will be the 35th time I've moved in my life. Getting boxes, getting newspaper for wrapping, wrapping breakables, Packing, Cleaning everything, Transporting, loading and unloading boxes... the list of things to be done goes on for a mile!

However, the number one thing I hate about moving is the memories it brings back. The majority of the time, moving was a product of an eviction brought on by Susan.

My mom had a fascination with screaming at the neighbors and putting her delusions on public display. Out in the middle of the street, she would stand on her soap box proclaiming her obscenities and wily beliefs. Meanwhile, some neighbors looked on in confusion and concern, while others found humor in the scenario laughed at the idea of "The Crazy Lady".

Countless times I found myself out in the middle of the street with her, begging her to be quiet, pulling her off of the neighbors' lawns and pulling her out of the way of traffic. I would apologize profusely to the neighbors, explaining to them that she was Schizo and didn't know what she was talking about.

Obviously, this caused some problems, especially because we always lived in rentals. Many neighbors, knowing the landlord or Apartment Manager, were quick to make phone calls, spreading the latest word of "The Crazy Lady".

Eviction was inevitable no matter where we went, and because of that, we never really got comfortable or felt at home anywhere we lived. Freaking out at the neighbors who were "Talking about her and laughing at her" was inevitable as well. We could have lived on an island in the middle of the ocean, and the "neighbors" would still have "talked about her".

Most times, when the Notice of Eviction would finally surface, she would simply turn up her nose and say, "That's alright. I don't want to live here anyway" or "They can't kick me out! Why are they persecuting me?!"

Looking back I remember moving as being absolute chaos. Susan, thinking that the Landlord didn't have the right to kick us out, would never pack ahead of time. Me, my brother and sister always found ourselves in a panic, literally throwing things into boxes, and scrambling to get things together the day before we were to be out. Yet Susan would still sit there, convinced that she had the right to stay, regardless of what the Landlord, or the Police, had to say about it.

Then there was the problem of finding another place to live. Not keeping our history of evictions in mind, there was the issue of finding a place that was acceptable to Susan. Susan was EXTREMELY particular about where she would live, and our search for a new place was always narrow, time-sensitive, and stress-packed.

Anywhere we moved she would have a laundry list of "problems" with it. She didn't like the neighborhood, or the carpeting, or the walls, or the windows, the street it was on, the spying neighbors, the finish on the water faucets, that funny-shaped piece of gravel in the backyard, etc... There was always something. Anything short of a giant house up high on some hill was just beneath her and what she had the "right" to live in.

I could go on for an hour about my experiences with moving. But Looking back at all this, I can't help but wonder why no one intervened. Landlords, neighbors... they all knew what was going on but they never wanted to do anything about it, they just wanted us to go away.

I think that is the world's view on Schizophrenia in general. No one really wants to do anything about it, they just want it to go away. They don't care how it is handled, as long as they don't have to handle it. As long as it is not in their neighborhood, they are satisfied...

Victims, Choices, and Forgivness.

My name is Laurie and I am a Victim!! Yes, I said it, I am a victim to things that are outside of my control! I have had a crappy life and because of that I have the right to be depressed and angry at the world! The world OWES me because of what I have been through. And if you don't believe me, then tough! Because you simply don't understand what I have been through and you never will!!!

Ha ha ha... Yep, that was me a year ago. A victim to a life which I had thought that I had no control over. I think most of us feel like victims to things outside of our control at at least one point in our lives. We allow uncontrollable events to control how we feel about ourselves, lives, jobs, and other people. And because of that, we feel that we have the RIGHT to be miserable people who relive their crappy lives and bad experiences over and over and over again. When people say, "Just get over it, let it go", we refuse because "they just don't understand".

It wasn't until I attended a Personal Growth Seminar last year that my entire life did a total 360. For the first time in my life I took total and complete responsibility for how my life has turned out. I took responsibility for my anger, depression and most importantly, my past.

The concept, which I believe to be a truth, is that we ALL have total and complete control over our lives. If we are happy, it is because we choose to be that way. If we are sad or angry, it is because we choose to feel those feelings. Really, if you think about it, no one can MAKE you mad. No one can physically go inside you head, turn on the "anger switch", and make you angry. Things outside of our control happen everyday. And every time something happens we attach an emotion to the situation and we make a choice on how we want to feel about it.

My life living with my Schizo mom was crazy to say the least, but realizing that I had control over how I chose to handle the crazy things has given me incredible freedom. Whoda thunk that taking the "blame" for my depression and anger and resentment would be a good thing? It seems easier to point fingers and blame others. I used to point my finger at Susan and say, "Its her fault I'm depressed. Its her fault I'm suicidal. Its all her fault because she's crazy and she ruined my life". By doing this, I indeed handed the control of my life and feelings over to my mom. No wonder I felt like I had no control over my life! It was because I GAVE her control choosing to feel the way I did about her and my life!

The key to learning and "getting" this concept is by being totally honest with yourself. I was forced into a place where I could not hide from what I created for myself. I had to be honest with myself if I truly wanted change and the ability to forgive. I have lived my life as a victim to things that were, in fact, in my control. I have held on to depression and anger because strangely, it works for me.

Being a victim is easy. I just sit back and say, "Oh, poor, poor me..." And there you have it! Now I have an excuse to withdraw from people. I have an excuse not to trust anyone. I have an excuse to avoid meaningful and intimate relationships in order to keep others from getting too close. I have an excuse to relive my past over and over and live in a state of depression. Yes, it is easy, but where did it get me? No where good, that's where. Had I chosen to not live my life as a victim to circumstance, I am certain that I would be at a much better place in my life right now. I would be where I have always dreamed I would be at this age.

Realizing that I control my life and how I feel about things, has allowed me to forgive Susan. My mom is Schizo and always will be. Ok... so what? Am I going to allow that to decide my happiness for the rest of my life? No way! I have wasted far too much time being a victim to my mom. Yes, things did happen, but what does dwelling on them change about them? Why torture myself with reliving it over and over?

So, this girl who was a total victim last year has now taken responsibility for her life and where she is today. Because of this I am liberated, I now know that I have control over my life, and most importantly, I was able to let go of the past and forgive! Now that I have been there I can never go back, once you know the truth, you can never go back to where you were.

Now understand, that I have not, and never will, fully perfect this way of being and living. Everyday I fall back into "victim mode" because it is what I have always done, and as I said, it has worked for me. Being a victim is what got me to where I am today. However, now I can catch myself doing it and I recognize it. It takes A LOT of EFFORT and PRACTICE to form this new way of thinking. The old way of thinking will always be there, but by thinking and behaving in a new way, eventually, it will become natural for me to live my life in this mindset.

If you are having trouble forgiving, letting go of resentment, and recognizing that you have more control than you think, I would highly recommend this wonderful and LIFE CHANGING seminar that I attended last year and that I continue to be involved in. Please let me know if you would like more info. Here's to you and a life full of choices, self-honesty and responsibility!

My Mission

It occurred to me today that I started this Blog without giving full explanation as to why I am doing it. I suppose that should have been in the first post, but hey, better late than never!

What really triggered me on all of this is the recent tragedy that happened very close to home. The Tucson, AZ shooting carried out by a young man named Jared Loughner. I have read several articles about Jared, and about the tragedy, and it only becomes more and more clear that he suffers from some kind of severe Mental Illness.

Jared is currently under mental evaluation and Paranoid Schizophrenia is being greatly considered as a possible diagnosis. When I began to read the articles, and saw the story played over and over on the local and national news stations, I began to think about Susan and how she was.

No, she has never gone out on a killing spree, but I have seen her an uncountable number of times in the midst of a Psychotic Episode. I can honestly say, that during these Episodes, Susan had completely no control whatsoever over what she did or said. Her behavior was often violent, and in a strange way, not human. She would shout out incoherent ramblings to either myself or my siblings, or to people who do not even exist. Even her eyes would change.

In my opinion, when Jared committed this unspeakable crime, he was experiencing a Psychotic Episode. Psychotic Episodes are defined by Wikipedia as: "abnormal condition of the mind, and is a generic psychiatric term for a mental state often described as involving a "loss of contact with reality... Psychosis is given to the more severe forms of psychiatric disorder, during which hallucinations and delusions and impaired insight may occur... People experiencing psychosis may report hallucinations or delusional beliefs, and may exhibit personality changes and thought disorder. Depending on its severity, this may be accompanied by unusual or bizarre behavior..." If you wish to read more about Psychotic Episodes, or Psychosis, there are countless sites that can give you further information.

Now, I am not a Psychiatrist, so please understand that my belief of Jared's state of mind at the time of the attack is of my own personal opinion. So, let's entertain my opinion for a moment... If Jared was experiencing Psychosis, this would mean that he was out of contact with reality and had no control over his thoughts and actions at the time.

Now hear you me... I am in NO way defending the actions that took place that day. I am however sad to know that with the proper diagnosis, treatment, and medication, it is very likely that this attack would have never happened.

If you have read anything about Jared, then you would know that he had been exhibiting strange and often times scary behavior, long before the Tucson shooting. Strange behaviors and bizarre outbursts in the middle of his college classes eventually led to safety concerns from other students and his instructors. One girl even went out of her way to sit in a seat next to the door so that she could make a quick escape should he bring a gun to class. It was only a matter of time before he was expelled. The college stated that they would allow him to return after undergoing a Mental Evaluation.

Hm... So the school knew something was wrong, the students and teachers knew something was wrong... Why did he not receive a Mental Evaluation? Why wasn't he committed due to verifiable evidence that he was not mentally stable? Why was he not under a treatment plan with therapy and medications? WHY DID THIS HAVE TO HAPPEN?!

I'll tell you why this had to happen, because Jared fell through the cracks of a very broken system. Many states in the US, including Arizona, currently follow the "Harm to Self or Others" standard. This means that a person who is Mentally Ill cannot be involuntarily committed into a Psychiatric hospital or clinic unless they are of imminent harm to hurt themselves or others.

Now, even though Jared's actions and behaviors were scary, there was no solid evidence to show that he would harm himself or harm another person. Even though a classmate found it necessary to sit by the door for a fast escape, there was no evidence to show that he was planning on killing anyone. Because of these kinds of laws, 9 people are dead, including a very beautiful and innocent 9 year old girl who had just begun her life.

The signs were there... Jared was very sick and nearly everyone around him knew it. Yet no one could legally do anything about it. I can only imagine the pain and hardship that his parents endured. Knowing that there was something wrong with their son but there was nothing they could do about it. There was no way to force him so seek help and take Psych medications. They were up against a brick wall and there was nothing they could do.

I have found myself in this same position many times with Susan. Had we been able to involuntarily commit her, she would have received evaluations and treatments to help her. She may have gotten the help that she, as a human being, deserved.

So, I have rambled, and believe me, I could go on for hours, but I will cut to the chase. I started this Blog to help educate people about the laws that prevent involuntary commitment. I want to open everyone's eyes to what is going on and how it is effecting people in our communities. Had I not had a Schizophrenic mother, I would have never known about these laws either. The families of the Ill deserve it and most definitely, the Ill themselves deserve it. For without involuntary commitment, countless people would have lived on living in a prison of hallucinations and delusions. They would not have gotten the help that would allow them the chance to live a normal and happy life, free of the clutches of Schizophrenia's symptoms.

Involuntary commitment is slowly being abolished through out the US and is being replaced with less effective alternatives. Some of these alternatives include, voluntary commitment (This is rare since those who suffer with the disorders rarely believe that there is anything wrong with them) and involuntary commitment outside of a hospital or clinic, (meaning that the family of the ill person is left with the responsibility of tracking medications and appointments for therapy).

So there it is. This is my mission. Together we can change these laws and help countless people find help. The help that is necessary for them to live the life that they want and deserve.

At the top of this Blog you will find a picture of Jared in 2010 as a volunteer at the Tucson Festival of Books. I would really like you to take a moment to look at this picture. What do you see? Do you see a vicious murderer or do you see a handsome young man enjoying himself? Look at his face and eyes. He looks like a normal person.

At the bottom of this Blog, you will find a picture of Jared following his arrest of the Tucson shooting. This picture gives me chills. Anyone can see that he looks like a completely different person. What do you see? Do you see that happy young man from only a few months before? Look at his eyes. Do you see a person who is mentally present or a person who is off in another world?

My point is, something changed. Anyone can see that. Something changed in him that day to where he just wasn't mentally there. Psychosis? I think so...

You're Just Jealous...

I currently work in a Restaurant and have come across many, MANY different types of characters. Today, I couldn't help but chuckle when I saw a lady enter the Restaurant wearing a shirt that read, "You're just jealous that the voices talk to me." Honestly, I am easily entertained by jokes and novelty items that jest at the idea of Schizophrenia. I suppose its because I can relate to what is being said. Being able to joke about it and find humor in it has helped to keep me sane over the years.

I am not easily offended, in fact, it takes a lot to offend me. But I am somewhat troubled at times when I see that a very serious illness is somehow being portrayed as something "funny", "cool", or "popular". While navigating different online forums and support groups, I have found countless people jumping into the boards claiming to suffer from Schizophrenia. Mostly teens, many are there simply for attention, or perhaps, they wish to be Schizophrenic themselves so that they can legitimately get the attention they crave.

Either way, they seem to think that claiming to "hear voices" and "see things" will somehow win them popularity, or at the very least, pity. I once came across a posting on an online support forum where such a person was making ridiculous attempts to convince a very well-educated crowd that they were Schizophrenic. One of the Schizophrenic members commented, "I hate people who do this. People who WANT to be Schizo. Let me tell you, Schizophrenia isn't some type of never ending high. You need a life."

... "A never ending high..." I like that term... Sounds fun right? Seeing things, hearing things, smelling things, tasting things... that no one else but you can see/hear/smell etc. Apparently being high off of LSD everyday for the rest of your life sounds like a desirable alternative, since one cannot simply choose to be Schizo (Thank goodness). If only they knew what it would be like to really be Schizo. If only they knew what it would feel like to be plagued with a cure-less disease that will haunt them everyday for the rest of their lives.

Well, I suppose that the funny shirts, cutesy sayings and wanna-be-Schizophrenic-posers will continue to be ever abundant in the public eye. That is, until the day, that everyone is aware of what they are really cracking jokes about. Hopefully I will be very much involved in when that day comes.

Introduction

Hello all. My name is Laurie and I am the daughter of a Schizophrenic. Susan, as I call her, is one the 60,000,000 people through out the world that suffer a baffling and damaging illness. Susan is currently 61 years old and began displaying symptoms of Schizophrenia when she was 23, a typical age for symptoms to begin. At this time she was already married and a mother to my oldest brother.

I have heard little about the details of her onset of Schizophrenia, but I have heard one story in particular, one shared with me by an Aunt of mine. My Aunt went to visit Susan at her house one day when she was young and living in California. When my Aunt arrived she found Susan alone in her apartment with the window blinds shut, the door locked, and the apartment dark.

Confused, she said, "Susan, its so dark in here. Why don't you open the blinds?" She made her way to open them when Susan stopped her. "Don't open them, they're watching me." she whispered in a low tone, peaking out through the gaps in the blinds. "Who? What are you talking about? There's no one out there." my Aunt explained. "Those people, they've been watching me all day, and they're talking about me."

That is the most that I know of Susan's onset, the first known story of her spiral into madness. A world of paranoia, hallucinations, delusions and other uncontrolled and strange behaviors. Memories as a child, and being raised by this ever present illness, are still very vivid in my memory. These memories have piqued my curiosity and have caused me to become increasingly interested in Schizophrenia and other Psychotic Disorders. I have spent much of my free time researching, reading, and trying to make sense of this mysterious illness that has effected my entire being and has molded me into who I am today.

My childhood was very traumatic and memories have haunted me my entire life. It wasn't until recently that I came to terms with my experiences and achieved something that I thought would be impossible; forgiving Susan.

When I think about my mother, I no longer feel anger, hate and resentment. I see a woman, wife and mother who suffered a severe illness. One that was never asked for, one that could not be helped. She had hopes and dreams just like any other person in this world. She had likes and dislikes and had plans for her life. She dreamed of re-marrying one day and helping to raise her Grandchildren. She longed for companionship and love, things that Schizophrenia prevented her from having.

I've noticed, through my reading and interactions with others, that "crazy" people are consistently painted as bad, horrible people who are believed to have control over their behavior and thoughts. This is not so. I like to think of it as a type of Cancer. Do you know anyone who wants Cancer? Do you know anyone who would ask for it? No, of course not, yet millions of people every year are diagnosed and many times die due to the effects of it. Schizophrenia is a very harmful and damaging disease. One that often tears families apart, destroys loving and meaningful relationships, and drives people to hate and anger that they may suffer with until the day they die.

I no longer have a relationship with my mother, not that I ever had one in the first place. You see, I did not know my mom. I only knew her Schizophrenia. Learning to differ between the two has been tremendously liberating for me. I am on a mission to help the world see the difference. The difference between the person they are and the person that their illness has created. Perhaps by doing this, I can help others to liberate themselves as well. To let go of the hate and resentment, and see the person who is cast under the shadow of Schizophrenia.

I have much to learn about Mental Illness, and I look forward to learning more everyday and keeping you informed. Hopefully, together, we can raise awareness so that solutions can be reached. Solutions that will not only benefit and change the lives of those who are effected by it, but those who suffer with the disorders themselves, for they truly carry the greatest burden of all involved. Thanks for reading. I hope you can help me share the stories you read here. The more people who are aware, the better.