Scared into Life

SCARED INTO LIFE

BY ANNIE

My recovery story is in 4 parts.  In our family, mental illness is as prominent as heart disease or diabetes is in others.

Part I

My father, George was diagnosed with paranoid schizophrenia, after he came home from W.W.II.  Mom recalls the doctors giving him only 6 months worth of medication and no follow-up. Dad would relapse and go back into the hospital, this was a continuous cycle.

Dad died when I was 4.  He hung himself.  I vaguely remember my dad.  Many family members tell me stories about my dad; I feel that this helps me know what kind of person he was.  I am told that I look like my dad and have his personality.  That is an honor in itself.  Even though Dad may be gone, his memory lives in my heart 34 years later.

Part II

Shortly after Dad died, my brother Georgie, came to Mom, and started questioning Dad’s death and life.  He enlisted in the Army and was later released on Honorable Medical Discharge.

I remember Georgie going in and out of the hospitals, especially the Veterans’ and Central State.  He had tried suicide many times.

In my opinion, the doctors never did properly diagnose my brother.  I don’t think they took the time or effort to help him and in the end Georgie paid the ultimate price.  He jumped to his death January 7, 1986.

Part III

In my junior year of high school, I awoke one night to hear my sister crying.  Like Georgie, Teresa was asking those questions that everybody wanted to know.  All I really wanted to know was why was this happening to our family, again?  Why were we “chosen” to live with the curse of mental illness and would this mean another suicide?

Teresa bravely fought the battle of her own mental illness, but it seemed whenever something went right, something else would go wrong.  I prayed many times asking God for help.  In fact, I prayed for a miracle to spare her life.

Finally, towards the end of my senior year of high school, Teresa found a doctor who gave her HOPE!  The doctor administered a proper diagnosis and medication.  My prayer was finally answered.

Teresa had found her piece of mind.  With all the things going on in my own life, I began to find myself depressed.  However, I chose to ignore the signs and hide my depression behind laughter and by involving myself in school and church activities.

The summer after my first year of college, I ended up in the hospital and purposely cut my wrist.  I felt that if I were gone, Mom would not have to worry about me.  Everything I had stood for in high school was automatically taken away – I did not care about life, at this point!

Two people stood by me through a lot of my hospitalization – Mom and Teresa.  Teresa, in her own loving way, promised me she would always be there for me.  Mom was always there for me and guided me down the path of what seemed to be the toughest thing I had ever faced in my life.  Of course, other family members, namely, my brother Mike and sister, Mary were there to offer their support, also.  Teresa was the “Wind beneath my wings” always cheering me on to continue with school and work.  She became my hero.

Part IV

To me, having a mental illness did not bother me.  No one or nothing was going to stop me from living my life.  I was in school and I began working.

However, at age 24, I was diagnosed with bipolar disorder.  I did not start to realize the impact my illness was having on me  until about age 32!

I had come out of the hospital after a bad depression, specifically due to not taking my medication.  I had Electroconvulsive therapy and was given an antipsychotic medication, by the attending doctor at the hospital.  The medication did not bring me down from mania and one night I decided to take a bottle of anti-anxiety pills.

I lost a whole day of my life.  I do not know what came over me and to this day that is still very scary to me.  This became a turning point in my life.  It really made me think about my life and my purpose.  I decided to go back to school to pursue a degree in Early Childhood Development.

After I graduated, this is when my recovery truly began.  I started taking control of my life, rather than my illness taking control of me.   I felt like I came out of an emotional coma.  I lost weight and my whole attitude on life  changed.  My medication dosage was lowered. I was a new person!

Teresa had started pursuing her dream of becoming a RN.  Up until about 3 years ago, Teresa had been fine.  She was taking classes and from my perspective, I thought everything was great.  Then Teresa went into a major depression and Teresa needed me more than ever before.

Teresa never fully recovered from that episode.  She had her good days and bad days.  But she hid her feelings.  She did not always talk to her doctor about what was truly bothering her.

So in the end, Teresa also paid the ultimate price.  Teresa took her life and died April 23, 2009, she overdosed on her husband’s heart medication.

I remember, sitting in the waiting room listening to the nurse telling us, as professionally as he could, in medical jargon, that Teresa’s organs were failing.  I wish he had said, “There is no hope for your sister” and left it at that.  There is no professionalism when it comes to telling someone their loved one is brain dead and the only thing keeping them alive is a life support machine!

I remember going into the room and seeing Teresa there – lifeless, with only a ventilator to keep her breathing. It was the hardest thing I ever had to watch! I remember my mom and Teresa’s husband signing the papers to let her die “naturally”. I also remember thinking, “Oh my God! That could have been me!”  All of this seemed unreal and even though it was not a dream, I wish it had been.

Teresa died peacefully.  At her mass, I did a reading because I knew that is what she would want me to do.  Still that did not seem to heal the BIG hole in my heart.  I watched my nieces ( Amanda and Megan) and nephews (Grant and Mitch), throughout the ceremony and simply told them to go on and live their lives because that is what Teresa would want them to do, her pain was too much for her and she needed rest.  I also told them if they needed someone to talk to they should not hide their feelings but to find their parents or me.

I know that for my sister and brother to watch Teresa die was one of the hardest things to see because I do not think that I have ever seen them cry as much as they did at Teresa’s funeral.

I entitled this blog, “Scared Into Life” because that is what Teresa’s death did to me.  I had to find a way to stop the suicide cycle in our family.  That is when I turned to NAMI.  I am proactive and determined to show that I can live with a mental illness and be a happy person.

I owe a lot of my proactive crusade to Pathways Clubhouse members and staff.  I volunteer about 20 hrs a week and enjoy being around my peers and staff. I am on the Recovery and Advocacy Board.  Also, I am teaching Peer to Peer and have received a certification for peer specialist, this past April.  I have enrolled at Ivy Tech to take Human Service classes.  My life is changing for the best.

I faithfully take my meds and keep in close contact with my doctor and therapist.  I am living proof that having a purpose in life, accepting your illness and following all procedures, this illness, or any psychiatric illness, can be managed.  There is hope.  NEVER GIVE UP!

I think of Teresa every day.  I often wonder what she was thinking the day she decided to end her life.  I will never know those answers.  However, I do know that she and my brother and Dad are watching over me and protecting me.  Their actions Scared Me Into Life!

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