The Circle

The strongest word for what I feel about mental illness is hate.  I hate mental illness.  I hate the way it leaves everything in its path obliterated, broken, bleeding.  I hate the circle, the cycle.  No doctor can cure it.  There is no miracle medication.  Only a bandage, and a temporary one at best.  Why?  

My oldest son has mental illness.  He has been given multiple diagnoses through the years: ADD, ADHD, OCD, OPD, personality disorders and bipolar I.  Lots of mania.  Some depression and suicide attempts.  Jail time, lost jobs, habitual lying, stealing, homelessness, alcohol and drug abuse, emergency room visits, pumping-the-stomach-near-death moments, self-medication, the spiraling and continuing cycle goes on.

He is 26 years old, almost 27.  Once again he flipped out last night.  When he "flips out" he goes off on me.  It usually happens when his life is out of control or he is cornered for his lies.  Last night the words hurt deep.  They always do, but last night was different.   There is no way to reach him when he is in this state.  He always apologizes, later.  He labeled me "negative", "hateful", "angry", "judgemental", "cruel" and he no longer wants a relationship with me because he is "so over it."  I still have the voice message with him in hysterics and crying and completely off.  He put his labels on to me.  I listened.  I told him I loved him.  I contacted his girlfriend.  I will wait.

It grieves me beyond my ability to say that I cannot help him, heal him or take this away.  I love him.  I have never been able to do enough, yet I have done so much.  

One thing I am thankful for is that he does not live with me. We have done this too many times.  I live with fear every day of his death by accident, suicide or foolishness.

I will not post this to Facebook, because he is there.  I only needed to briefly write how I am feeling right now.

I hate mental illness.  I am thankful for NAMI and that I am not alone in this journey.  Most of all, I can pray.  I do and I will continue.