"And you think mental illness won't destroy Robin's life?" my mother continued.
"If you take him to a psychiatrist, you'll be taking a terrible chance. He's a bright boy, but people will conclude he is weak or lacking in character. They'll never give him a chance. He'll start life with two strikes against him."
"We may not have a choice," my mother said.
"There's always a choice," father countered. "The difficult things in life build character. Robin's problems will make him all the stronger if he can work it out in his own way. Then he'll bear no stigma."
"Are you really worried about Robin's quality of life," my mother asked, "or that others might discover you are the source of his problems?"
My father recoiled as if he had been slapped in the face. His coffee cup fell from his hand to the floor where it broke into a hundred pieces.
"That's not fair. No matter what happens, Robin is my son and I will stand by him."
My mother ignored the broken cup and looked directly at my father.
"That's what scares me. You'll stand by him but do nothing. Hoping for the best you'll just watch as he sinks. With or without your permission, if he doesn't show real signs of improvement in the next couple of days, if he doesn't seem to be ‘working it out on his own', I'm taking him to see a psychiatrist."
I vowed I would never go willingly.
[The tragedy is that, although there are now effective treatments for schizophrenia, this conversation or many very much like it are still taking place every day, over fifty years later. Stigma remains deeply embedded in our society and will only be removed through public education.]
* * *
Please remember, this writing reflects my own experience and opinions. If you, or a loved one, are experiencing the symptoms of schizophrenia, or any other mental illness, you should seek professional assistance.
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