At first blush, I would say my family had little to do with my recovery. I can readily remember when they were NOT helpful. But if I think just a moment, it is obvious to me that they DID help. The first time I was hospitalized (and many subsequent times) my younger sister came to see me. She also brought her young son (just a child) with her to show him that the hospital was a place of healing and helping, even to those with an unquiet mind. I thought that was sweet. In years since (my nephew is about 22 now) neither she nor I have brought the subjec up very often. And that is usually when I have been noncompliant with the meds or have wanted to explore independent living and she wasn't sure I was ready. So I know she cares. Part of the reason I do stay on the meds is because my family wants me to and expects me to. They want me to feel my best.
My parents had a lot to do with my recovery because they let me live with them for about 12 yrs during the worst of times. They bought me a truck to drive to my few feeble attempts to find and hold down a job. They were very literally my caregivers -- provided food, clothing, housing. Took care of all my physical needs. But I think both of them had a really difficult time trying to understand the suicide attempts and psychotic thinking. We never talked about it much -- it always seemed like we quickly reached an impasse and I had hard feelings about that for a while. But now I know yes, it is difficult to explain mental illness to a person who hasn't "been there."
My older sister cared enough to look up "schizophrenia" on the Internet, but unfortunately she found bogus, outdated information. There wasn't much reliable information on the internet regarding schizophrenia in 1995. (Or not that I could find.) But she was willing to try to understand and we talked about it a couple of times. She was dying of cirrhosis of the liver. It was a good time to break a longstanding silence between us.
My brother really never wanted to know much. I think he was afraid of his own depression and anxiety attacks. (Afraid to construct a working theory about what might have been the cause.) He followed my dad's lead in mostly staying silent and distant. But he was very helpful one dark night when I found myself in a pretty retched hospital ICU psych ward. I wanted to transfer immediately to a a different hospital; I literally felt like I was in physical danger there. So he picked my parents up in another city and they came together and picked me up and took me across Dallas to a different treatment facility. (The hospital refused to get an ambulance to effect my transfer.) So yes, he was there when I needed him.
An aunt has been good to listen when I needed to talk. A cousin admonished me more than once to stop taking the meds and do something "natural," so her efforts to be helpful fell not on deaf ears, but on educated ears that knew better.
On the whole, I tend to think recovery is a one-man project: Mine. But realistically, there were family members who really were there for me.
I was sick for a month and a half before my parents took notice. My brother and father stepped in when I tried to commit suicide. That's it. No more support ever came from any of them. I used to say that they were my biggest problem. maybe that's true. One time after I got out of a hospital I told my father and he said "was it the same ole thing?" End of conversation.
My "illness" is taboo. Don't you dare talk about it. The family's ideal is that "if you ignore it long enough it will go away."
I have two families..biological and the chosen. It's been said that "you can make your friends but you can't make your family." I disagree. Since my bio family are "buttheads" I have no use for them. I expect nothing from them. We all like it that way. I do take care of my younger brother. He is an outcast like me.
My chosen family are people that I want around. My wife, Margaret is the center of my family. I know have a church family that cares about me. My son and daughter are a part as well.
Family is important for someone in recovery. I looked for years to find that support and got none. I made my way without and despite them.
I support my children. I learned from how my folks how to care for my kids..not because they did it to me. I know how I felt about their lack of care. I don't want my kids to feel that way. I love my kids and make sure that I tell them that all the time. My dad said it to me once and he was drunk, so it lost its affect.
David
I grew up in a family where there was a lot of love. Even though my parents divorced when I was five, I maintained a close relationship with my Dad and love my Step-Dad very much as well. This being said, recovery after 30 years or so of mental illness I still can feel the love they all have for me.
I guess I am among the fortunate and there were times when my own Mother and siblings had to have me committed and even arrested during acute psychosis. The core belief of love and compassion was always there as it has always been. My Father was a medical librarian and it, I believe was his background in medicine that educated us all into the changes I was going through. In time, I think my illness brought us all closer, though I had to rebuild my relationships with some family members.
I have a son of 24 years old. He was adopted at birth and I saw him only once. He was a newborn baby and I held him. I can't remember how I felt. I had no income at the time and was also experiencing a lot of symptoms. The authorities took him away and I was deemed an unfit father.
I am on the adoption registry so if he wants to meet me - he can. Obviously, the genetic trigger in SZ is a factor in his life. At 52 I don't feel that I want to be a father in this life. It's a full - time job and I'm not prepared to do the work. I know that being a Dad would be a great joy and I'm not knocking it, but it's not for me.
Have a nice day
Don Fraser
How's it going Don. It's been a while since I posted here but I always enjoy reading your stories. I am very fortunate as well. My mom and dad have always been there for me. The things that I have accomplished over the last five years would not have been possible if it weren't for their support (along with other family members). I live with them right now, I'm not too proud of it because I'm 45 years old, but it is what it is. Besides, I'm not financially stable enough to have a place of my own. But, I've made it a goal of mine to have my own place before I am 50.
I have a 16 year old daughter that lives with her mom in Yuma, AZ. It's about a 3 hour drive from San Diego. Because of my meth addiction and alcoholism, she didn't even exist in my mind for years after her 2nd birthday. I let 15 years go by...we reunited last November. It was great, I mean I almost didn't go through with it because of my anxiety, but my ex and brother were able to convince me to have dinner with her. I thank God that they gave me the strength I needed.
She is somewhat back in my life but she decided that she needed her space. I guess the thought of having some man claiming to be her father after not being around for so many years is too overwhelming for her to handle at this point.
I am starving for my daughter right now. I feel so helpless because there is nothing that I can do other than to send her cards, letters, etc. during holiday's or on special occassions.
You know, because of the anxiety i struggle with daily, I kind of question whether I would be a fit father or not. I can't wait to find out.
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I always tell people that I recovered because my mother drove me to the hospital within 24 hours of my breakdown. Throughout my adult life my Mom and Dad have been my biggest allies. Family support to me has had a huge impact on my well-being. I have a younger brother who is a good person and has come through for me when I needed him. Last June before I moved into this apartment he and my cousin took the old couch and the trunk down two flights of stairs to the curb. They dismantled the desk and brought it down to the curb too.
I have a different take on this topic because long ago before I got sick I knew I didn't want to live in the suburbs and be a breeder. I didn't want kids which sounds unusual when it appears most women in American want to marry and have a family.
So oddly I did not want kids and a week ago Friday I went to a storefront psychic and she told me: "You will not have children." She did not know that I was 45. She told me I would meet a divorced guy.
My take on this is that my desire not to have kids will appeal to a guy. I also don't want to risk having symptoms while I'm pregnant. I think it is far more selfish to want to have kids when you are not in a position to take care of them. My recovery is a full-time job and I have all I can do managing my own life without taking on the added challenges of parenting.
I would love to hear from women here about how they navigated taking or not taking meds while they were pregnant.
Mostly I have yet to find the guy I want to spend the rest of my life with so that sealed the deal that I won't be having kids. I feel if some outside person tells a woman that there's omething wrong with her if she doesn't have kids or is not married or doesn't want kids we should not feel like failures for not living up to this standard.
The far greater good in my eyes is that we all strive to treat each other with dignity and respect as fellow human beings on this planet who require love and compassion to grow.
It doesn't matter if we're not breeders.
At this point I would like to hear from other community members on this topic.
I look forward to your comments.
I too realize how important my family has been to my being the most stable I have ever been. I was first diagnosed at the age of 23 and weeks after I graduated from college. While most of my brothers and sisters as well as nieces and nephews live out of town that does not mean I did not have their love and support. One of my sister's called me daily to see how i was doing and I got cards and letters everyday from my brothers and sisters as well as my nieces and nephews.
My parents have been supportive of me and came to see me every visiting hours there were. I also have a sister and niece who came to see me. I know my illness was hard on my parents but they did not let on lke it was. They are my rock especially my mom. We still are best friends and do a lot together.