Mental Health Advocate(s)
If you have read even a fraction of my blog posts, you know that mental health is an important topic to me. That probably makes sense due to my own personal struggles. I also worry how my illness will affect my children. Does it impact how I respond as a parent? Is it something they will inherit from me?
I have additional reasons to be concerned about the latter. I alluded to my husband's family history in a previous post, but I feel ready to share more fully his story (with his permission).
My husband's father suffered (and, if we are being honest, died) from schizophrenia. I didn't know this when we first started dating. I didn't even know that his father was deceased. At the beginning of our relationship, someone mentioned to me that they thought his father was no longer living and asked if it was true. I had no idea, so I asked one of my husband's best friends about it. The friend actually believe his father was still alive. However, shortly after we began dating, my husband was in the newspaper for a pretty substantial academic accomplishment. He warned me ahead of time that the article would indicate that his father was dead. At that point, he offered no further information.
Several months later, my husband finally told me some of the details of his father's death. We were sitting on some stone benches in a local park. He seemed off, so I asked what was going on. He sighed, then opened with, "You know the poem that was on the board today in English class? I wasn't laughing."
The poem in question went something like this: "Roses are red; violets are blue; I'm schizophrenic, and I am too." I don't know who had written it on the board, but several students chuckled after reading it.
My husband proceeded to tell me that his father was sick for most of the time my husband was a child. His father stayed in rooms away from the family, was in the hospital, or was mentally unavailable almost the entire time my husband knew him. He recounted one good memory he had with his father, and then he cried in front of me for the first time.
Weeks later, in the basement of my parents' house, my husband finished the story. One fall, his family went camping, but his father stayed behind. When they returned from the trip, his father was gone. They had to call the police, who brought a dog with them. The dog sniffed his father's robe to try to track his scent, but they did not find him. Finally, in the spring, a man who was kayaking on a local creek came across some skeletal remains. With help from the forensic anthropology department of a nearby college, the remains were confirmed to be those of his father. His mother and oldest brother were, as far as I know, the only family members who viewed the remains. It was assumed that the others were too young to encounter something so traumatic. Even so, for my husband, the confirmation of his father's death was not as difficult as one might assume. My husband said that he had long assumed his father was gone; even before he was physically missing, he was mentally lost.
I had a lot to process after hearing all of this information. First of all, I saw my husband as vulnerable for the first time. I was able to be a source of strength for him when I hadn't previously seen myself in that role. Even though he claimed the event had no impact on him, I was skeptical. Functionally, his father was absent during most of his formative years. That has to affect a child. With my limited psychology education, I was also aware that schizophrenia has a genetic component. I remember doing many searches to try to ascertain just how strong that genetic component is. I was worried that my husband might start showing signs of the disease at some point. I learned that stress might sometimes trigger the onset of the disease, so I worked hard to shield him from as much difficulty as I was able.
Now that I have my own children, I worry about their mental health, too. They seem to have a lot of risk between my anxiety and depression and my husband's family history of schizophrenia. Partly because of this fear, I want to raise awareness of mental disorders to try to reduce some of the stigma around them. I want people to get help when they need it. I want their friends and family to know ways to be supportive. I want mental health to be treated like other diseases, with adequate coverage and treatments for the different conditions. I know it can be uncomfortable to read about these difficult topics, but for those of you who do, I sincerely thank you. For those of you who are also allies in this journey, I cannot express my appreciation enough.
I have additional reasons to be concerned about the latter. I alluded to my husband's family history in a previous post, but I feel ready to share more fully his story (with his permission).
My husband's father suffered (and, if we are being honest, died) from schizophrenia. I didn't know this when we first started dating. I didn't even know that his father was deceased. At the beginning of our relationship, someone mentioned to me that they thought his father was no longer living and asked if it was true. I had no idea, so I asked one of my husband's best friends about it. The friend actually believe his father was still alive. However, shortly after we began dating, my husband was in the newspaper for a pretty substantial academic accomplishment. He warned me ahead of time that the article would indicate that his father was dead. At that point, he offered no further information.
Several months later, my husband finally told me some of the details of his father's death. We were sitting on some stone benches in a local park. He seemed off, so I asked what was going on. He sighed, then opened with, "You know the poem that was on the board today in English class? I wasn't laughing."
The poem in question went something like this: "Roses are red; violets are blue; I'm schizophrenic, and I am too." I don't know who had written it on the board, but several students chuckled after reading it.
My husband proceeded to tell me that his father was sick for most of the time my husband was a child. His father stayed in rooms away from the family, was in the hospital, or was mentally unavailable almost the entire time my husband knew him. He recounted one good memory he had with his father, and then he cried in front of me for the first time.
Weeks later, in the basement of my parents' house, my husband finished the story. One fall, his family went camping, but his father stayed behind. When they returned from the trip, his father was gone. They had to call the police, who brought a dog with them. The dog sniffed his father's robe to try to track his scent, but they did not find him. Finally, in the spring, a man who was kayaking on a local creek came across some skeletal remains. With help from the forensic anthropology department of a nearby college, the remains were confirmed to be those of his father. His mother and oldest brother were, as far as I know, the only family members who viewed the remains. It was assumed that the others were too young to encounter something so traumatic. Even so, for my husband, the confirmation of his father's death was not as difficult as one might assume. My husband said that he had long assumed his father was gone; even before he was physically missing, he was mentally lost.
I had a lot to process after hearing all of this information. First of all, I saw my husband as vulnerable for the first time. I was able to be a source of strength for him when I hadn't previously seen myself in that role. Even though he claimed the event had no impact on him, I was skeptical. Functionally, his father was absent during most of his formative years. That has to affect a child. With my limited psychology education, I was also aware that schizophrenia has a genetic component. I remember doing many searches to try to ascertain just how strong that genetic component is. I was worried that my husband might start showing signs of the disease at some point. I learned that stress might sometimes trigger the onset of the disease, so I worked hard to shield him from as much difficulty as I was able.
Now that I have my own children, I worry about their mental health, too. They seem to have a lot of risk between my anxiety and depression and my husband's family history of schizophrenia. Partly because of this fear, I want to raise awareness of mental disorders to try to reduce some of the stigma around them. I want people to get help when they need it. I want their friends and family to know ways to be supportive. I want mental health to be treated like other diseases, with adequate coverage and treatments for the different conditions. I know it can be uncomfortable to read about these difficult topics, but for those of you who do, I sincerely thank you. For those of you who are also allies in this journey, I cannot express my appreciation enough.
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