Writer: Anonymous
I was twelve years old when my mother was diagnosed with schizophrenia, more specifically, paranoid schizophrenia. For those of you who are unaware, schizophrenia is a chronic and severe mental disorder characterized by distortions in thinking, perception, emotions, language, sense of self and behaviour. Common experiences include hallucinations – hearing voices or seeing things that are not there and delusions.
Here’s the thing about schizophrenia – it’s like a parasite; it slowly takes over the brain, feeds on its thoughts, hopes, dreams and fears and then, when it is powerful enough, its tentacles wrap around the person so tightly and consumes them so completely that before you know it, the person you loved is gone.
Initially, when the symptoms started to appear, my father and I almost gave into her delusions. We strained our ears and tried to hear the voices she kept talking about but we heard nothing. There was only silence. That’s when we realized that something was terribly wrong.
She was diagnosed a few months later and put on medication. But like most patients with schizophrenia, my mother refused to continue with her treatment and that’s when things took turn for the worse. The voices in her head grew louder, and everyone was out to get her.
I was instructed by all the adults in my family, including my father, to not talk about it outside my house. “Don’t mention this to your friends”– they said. It became the family secret.
So why am I talking about it now?
Schizophrenia didn’t just take my mother – it took a lot more. It cost me a normal relationship with my mother. It took away my chance at having an ordinary childhood. For years I was plagued with guilt, shame and loneliness. I coped with it the only way I knew I could, by repressing the bad memories and numbing the pain to distract myself from the sadness. Soon, it started affecting my mental health.
Five years ago I realized that I didn’t need to suffer in silence; that it was okay to talk about my experience. It was difficult but eventually I started confiding in my close friends and that actually helped.
If you are going through a similar experience, I hope this post helps you and makes you feel a little less alone in your struggle against this vicious illness.
If you know someone who is going through this – talk to them. Don’t offer them your sympathy. Don’t tell them things like “I am sorry that you have to go through this” – the last thing they need is pity. Just ask them how they are doing; they will probably say they are doing great and that’s a lie but ask them regardless. You can’t fix them or take away their pain but you can at least show them that you are there for them when they need you. A little compassion and empathy goes a long way.
As for me, I am still learning to deal with my issues, every single day. But now I have also learned to ask for help and that has made all the difference.
Wimpy Wallflower 