Mental health is being talked about in the media more now than I've ever seen it before and I think this is important as it means that those suffering alone with their illness may have a better chance of finding acceptance and hopefully recovery.
I've mentioned my long-term battle with anxiety and depression often on my social media but one thing I haven't really spoken about is my experience of being around a person with schizophrenia. Most of you already know that my birth mother has suffered from this illness since I was born - maybe even long before that - and it's because of it that I was brought up from being a baby by my grandparents, who I call 'mum' and 'dad'.
In case you've never heard of it, here's a link to some more information on schizophrenia from the NHS website. https://www.nhs.uk/conditions/schizophrenia/
What I wanted to talk about, given recent events I've read about in the news, is how it is perceived and how it affects those around the person who is suffering - family, friends etc because it's one of those topics that even in my own family can sometimes be considered taboo or something to be ashamed of. That way of thinking is not helpful and in our case has led to my birth-mother from being ostracised from people who once were close to her and also made life really difficult for both my younger sister and me, who have both been subject to snide remarks or judgements purely from being in the same gene pool.
Now I'm a mother myself, I'm hyper-aware of everything that happened to me during my own childhood and how it affected me long-term because I don't want my own child to go through what I went through.
I will refer to my birth-mother as BM during this to save confusion. When I mention my mum and dad, I mean my grandparents.
Family History
Now, I have no memory of ever calling the woman who gave birth to me 'mother' as a child; I'd already adopted 'mum' and 'dad' for my grandparents as it's all I knew, but I do remember my BM being a large part of my life. I think I was a few months old when dad collected me from her flat because she confessed she couldn't take care of me properly so I don't remember the time when she was my sole-carer (my birth-father wasn't around until I was well into my 20's) but I've heard many stories about what I went through. It's because of this that I'm so thankful that my parents raised me as their own and I managed to have a more normal life than what would have come from staying with her or being taken into care.
So I grew up with my grandparents, who I adored, and my aunt and uncle became my brother and sister in a way. My BM lived down the street back then and even to this day she still leaves close by, so I saw her frequently growing up. I can't remember the conversation where mum and dad tried to explain to me what was wrong with her but I knew something wasn't right and I just accepted it. Kids are great for that.
Funnily enough, I was never scared of her as a toddler, even when she told me stories of her bed shaking like the scene in the Exorcist or that her ornaments talked to her. I suppose I had been exposed to it so early that my mind just sort of switched off to it. But it was daily. She'd come around to visit and for the most part she was in good spirits about things, she talked to my mum and dad, drank tea and asked me how things were going. There had always been a sadness in her eyes when she looked at my sister and I and it was clear there was still a bit of the woman she was before the illness took over.
Mum and dad let her spend as much time as she could with me until I was around 8 years old when things took a huge turn for the worst with her mental health. Before that, all she really did in my presence was tell strange stories about ghosts and how they talk to her but she seemed to struggle to do everyday things like pay bills, look after her home, feed herself properly etc as she was always out somewhere with whatever boyfriend she had at the time.
Then when I got to 8 she met a new man and that's when things just fell apart for me. He'd introduced her to some pretty heavy drugs and she broke entirely. Her delusions got worse every time we saw her, up to the point where I began having nightmares and I stopped wanting to talk to adults, just in case they were like she was. She would have these sort of episodes where she screamed at mum and dad for taking me away from her and this terrified me. She stopped being my birth-mother and became a nightmare for a while.
Growing Up
When our village moved over the road (https://www.atlasobscura.com/places/arkwright-town) it could have been an amazing fresh start. The houses were new and modern and bricks didn't fall out of my bedroom wall as they did before. We had a huge new garden and even a garage! I thought it was fantastic, and all it took was methane seeping up through our old village and causing explosions! (This is why I refer to it as Silent Hill.)
But back then, my BM moved in with her new boyfriend and every time I saw them they were either high or drunk. They shouted the strangest things to my friends and I and even though she meant well, I really started to hate leaving the house. She followed me to school to wave at me through the gates, wearing the same clothes she'd had on all week and sometimes high because her boyfriend gave her something at 8.30 in the fucking morning. Anxiety started to kick in.
Her visits to our house became more frequent and consisted of her telling mum and dad that I was too skinny or I wore tops too revealing and that - and this is the bit that stuck with me all this time - it wasn't safe for a girl to be friends with boys. I won't go into the details but for the next few years, she'd constantly remark on my friendship with my best friend, a boy, until I felt so bad about myself I wanted to stop going outside as often as I had. She'd become fixated on the idea that I'd get pregnant young like she did and end up mentally ill and she wasn't scared to tell me things in detail about how that happened. She'd tell me about drugs and violent movies she'd watched, despite mum's attempts to stop her. I think mum was always a little scared of my BM because she just sort of let BM tell me this stuff. Pretty soon mum too became a little fixated with my relationships with boys as well.
Then BM's boyfriend got a great idea that they should take back custody and I went through the next year or so in the middle of a gruesome court battle where my parents desperately tried to stop them from taking me away from the only safe place I had in the world. Luckily, when mum and dad were in a lot of debt from court bills and things were starting to look a little like Hell, I wrote quite a strongly-worded letter for a 9-year-old and posted it to BM. It was shown in court and I had to have many interviews with solicitors etc about why I threatened to kill people, so it was decided that was a sign that I probably didn't want to leave my mum and dad. They won. I stayed at home. Of course, the panic of being taken away from my family had left me with panic attacks, bed-wetting and extreme anxiety around any adult that I met. I gained like ten phobias that I am still struggling to shake to this day because of that battle.
My sister was only a baby at this time and had a much better relationship with our BM than I did. My resentment had run deep by this point and I'm not going to pretend that I didn't wish she just didn't exist at all. My sister was brought up by her own father and they didn't live in the same village, so she really only saw her mother on the weekends, but even that had traumatic moments until finally, those stopped too because of how bad things were getting. My sister struggled with anger as a toddler - unsurprisingly.
Effects
Both my sister and I have our own issues with mental health and struggle with periods of high anxiety and depression. I dropped out of school at 14 because the idea of being around so many people terrified me. I completely shut down. My sister and I were bonded in one sense but we even had trouble spending time together because of the confusing life we were brought into and we acted out a lot with each other. Everything was just so different from everyone else's life. I don't think we ever understood why.
Because I looked so much like my BM, it felt like most people around me were just waiting for that behaviour to show in me. Even a normal kid tantrum would end in my mental health being questioned and I grew up having absolutely no idea what normal was. The angrier I got at people for judging me that way, the worse they got. I was just like my mother. In my teen years, mum kept a really tight grip on me and she stopped letting me hang around with my friends if I was out of her sight and there was a boy in the group. We could watch TV in the garage or go to the park where she could see me. The odd time I slipped away to go hang out somewhere in the fields or woods, she'd go to my friend's house and get his mother to come find us. It got so embarrassing that I eventually just gave up. She was just so scared that I'd do something to trigger schizophrenia or get pregnant or God knows what else and I was put on anti-depressants at 14 years old without a single diagnosis. Been on them on-and-off ever since.
I still to this day get asked if I have my 'mother's ways' when people who know her see me in the street and if I'm ever arguing with someone it's always brought up.
Until I was 19, I hadn't left my village alone. I became a scared shut-in who thought everything in the world was terrible and people were all crazy and wanted to hurt me. Both my sister and I struggle with panic attacks still, although things are better now.
I finally conquered my fears a few years ago when my mum died and I had no choice but to do things by myself and for myself. Though being without her broke my heart and I miss her every single day, it also pushed me towards where I am now.
My sister and I have a good relationship now and we try to see our BM as often as possible. She's doing better these days than she was when I was in my teens. She still thinks Egyptian gods live inside her walls and she struggles with distinguishing reality and fiction, but she's placid. In the past ten years, her doctors and care team have gradually done more for her than they did my entire childhood and the effects are noticeable. She'll never be cured. Her illness went too far for that and she's consistently stuck in her own head, but she's happier now. Settled. We're old enough now to understand that nothing she did or said was her own fault and we try our hardest to keep any childhood resentments out of the way, though it is hard. I call her mum now, she likes that a lot. It's hard for me but she deserves it. Her entire life has been buried in her illness. I can't imagine what it must have been like for her, not knowing what is real and what is in her mind. Watching her children being brought up by other people.
My sister and I are the only family members left to visit her. It's been hard on every single member of the family, especially my dad. He has remarried and is trying to live the happiest life he can after all the shit he's been through - before and after mum died.
Lara has seen her grandmother a few times now and it's gone okay, I am careful as my daughter has issues with shyness and I don't want to scare her. But I want her to have as good a relationship with her grandmother as she can because, despite the dark cloud in her mind, she is still our blood. We wouldn't be here if it wasn't for her.
So, if you know someone suffering from this - or any other - illness of the mind, remember that if they could be better, they would and spare a thought for their family. It's hard. Really hard.
Thanks for reading, if you did. I think all the above is one of the reasons why I am proud to be weird. I earned it. :D
NX
P.S. I'm going to write another blog post about anxiety next and the things I found helpful for panic attacks and general anxiety if anyone's interested. I'll publish it on my Facebook when I do!
P.S.S. I am not going to pretend I proof-read this, so sorry for the scrambled thoughts! xD
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