Book Review: Leaving The Hall Light On

THE TV SHOW 60 MINUTES ran a segment recently that addressed the issue of mental illness and the mistreatment of patients by the current mental health care system. There is a cycle: patients are at risk of becoming a danger to themselves or others and are admitted to a psychiatric facility. Doctors prescribe medication which stabilizes the patient. The patient is then released. Back in society, the patient stops taking the meds, destabilizes and is readmitted. And the cycle continues. Pardon my bluntness here but how freaking asinine is this? 

I have to admit that this harmful inefficiency makes me angry. In this modern day and age, how can we continue to employ a system that mistreats and neglects the needs of vulnerable citizens and their families? It's not right and it needs to change. 

This flawed system is what Madeline Sharples and her husband Bob were up against when they discovered their son Paul had bi-polar disorder. And for them, like so many, the cycle ended tragically with Paul's suicide. 

Madeline's riveting account takes us back to how a sweet, young boy with incredible talent and promise devolved into a young man with a disorder that confounded them. Eventually they get a diagnosis but they need so much more. 

In some ways, I know what Madeline went through. In 2005, my best friend ended her life in her psych ward room a few hours after I left her there.* This just goes to show that the system has a long way to go. 

Although I disagree on a few of Madeline's conclusions and beliefs. Her book is worth reading if you've been through a similar experience. It helps to know that you're not alone and that others have felt that same guilt, anger and emotional agony over not just the loved one suffering but the system designed to help them. As she wrote, "His moods controlled mine." Totally understandable when you love a child with every fiber of your being and want the best for them. It's a gut-wrenching way to live but could be so much easier if the system were revamped. We can hope.    

(*You can read the complete account in The Moment I Knew. See sidebar.) 

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Sabotage

THIS MORNING I SAW AN Intriguing article on the Healthy Place website. It asked the question, "Do People Want You To Stay Mentally Ill?" 

Well, first of all I'm not sure if I like the term "mentally ill." Is it just me or does it wreak of condescension, an antiquated term relegated to the inhabitants of yesteryear's dark and foreboding asylum? I prefer the term my doctor used with me. Doesn't "impaired" seem a little friendlier and up to date? But I suppose it's just a matter of semantics, right? 

Anyway, we humans tend to get set in our roles and prefer to keep things familiar and predictable. When a person in our life seeks to change that norm, it can cause a ripple effect. We can get very uncomfortable and not even understand why.

This was very true with me when I was impaired. Although "Brock" was supposedly all about helping me get "free," he seemed comfortable with his role as my rescuer and I could sense a desire in him to perpetuate it. And conversely, I was comfortable with Brock's role as well, and my role as rescuee. I also sought to perpetuate it. Whenever either of us veered away from those roles, there would be conflict. And yet, veering away is exactly what needed to happen--on a permanent basis. Like a one-eighty! 

I suppose it's similar to climbing over a barbed wire. Freedom waits on the other side but in the process of getting to it, you're going to get poked and scratched. You're going to bleed! It can be daunting and scary, focusing on those rusty blades. It's much easier to stay put and lament how out of reach the landscape is on the other side of the fence. Or to turn away from the fence altogether and look for something redeeming on the predictable and familiar prison side. 

I was enmeshed for way too long in a very toxic rescuer-rescuee relationship. I feared those barbs. Eventually I climbed out and bled for close to ten years. But the scars have been slowly healing. 

Tough question: Are there people in our lives that avoid change, preferring the comfort of familiarity? Or worse, do we look in the mirror and see that person. I would have to say yes. But change is getting easier.  

Book Review: Adopted Reality

SEQUESTERED TO THE COUCH with a killer head cold, you search for an upside to the sad predicament you find yourself in. Days on end spent tossing and turning, eventually, the virus reaches its finale and you feel like living again. Maybe you're not 100% yet but you can at least look at something besides the inside of your eyelids. And since this interim convalescence just happens to take place over a weekend you don't have to feel guilty about lying around doing nothing for hours on end. And besides, you have a book that's been sitting on the shelf for, like, ever. 

And by you I mean me. By time, I mean this past weekend. And the book is, Adopted Reality by Laura Dennis. This week, I'm back to work, feeling much better and I've finished the book! I just love multi-tasking.

Laura Dennis is one of the names I'm familiar with from the world of Internet memoir writing forums. She's very smart, with movie star good looks and she's an American expatriate, living in Bosnia with her husband and family. I can't remember where I won her book but several months ago my name was picked from a random drawing. Lucky me! 

Laura's memoir, Adopted Reality is a page-turner. The story begins with a tornado of events that sound as if they're right out of a spy novel. But this is real--a perfect storm that was seeded decades earlier when Laura was adopted into a family with strong Catholic convictions. With a verbally abusive father and the church fueling her burgeoning fears, Laura strives for perfection and acceptance, unwittingly alienating her peers and feeding her self-doubts about belonging. Eventually she is drawn into the world of dance with all of its physical and mental demands--perfect for her high-energy and drive towards perfectionism.

There is no disputing that society still has a problem with mental illness. Regardless of where the stigma originates, it's fueled by ignorance and intolerance. Better information is the way to change that. When the events of a person's life are laid out as succinctly and dramatically as they are in Adopted Reality, it becomes understandable how an otherwise normal person could succumb to a mental breakdown. This is the take-home message of this absorbing memoir.

Stories like Laura's need to be told. If for no other reason, so the rest of us can develop more compassion and understanding for the hurting among us. Put this one on your "to read" list!

P.S. Thank you Kathleen Pooler, for reminding me that I won Adopted Reality by commenting on your awesome blog, Memoir Writer's Journey. If you haven't visited Kathy's wonderful blog, please do. You'll like it. 

  

Book Review: It Rains in February

WITH THE HOLIDAYS fully upon us, I wanted to finish reading It Rains in February and get my review written before being swallowed up in the festivities. Here it is. 

What is love? Is it the warm fuzzies we feel while embracing our husband of 30 years under a moonlit sky? Is it opening a small, exquisitely wrapped package to find a diamond of commitment? 

It Rains In February: A Wife's Memoir of Love and Loss, written by Leila Summers answers this question without even trying. It's the true-life account of one woman's struggle to help her mentally ill husband. 

Set in exotic South Africa, Leila and Stuart meet, fall headlong in love, get married and have two daughters. But behind Stuart's artistic, somewhat eccentric demeanor lies a skewed view of reality, likely stemming from a chemical imbalance or personality disorder. Once he lays eyes on cinnamon-skinned Amanda, his affection for his wife takes a backseat to his unrequited obsession. 

Perhaps Amanda is flattered, even titillated by handsome Stuart's flirtations, we don't really know, but she doesn't leave her husband for him. And despite Leila's numerous urgings Stuart refuses to resume first place in her life. He continues in decline, ultimately taking his own life. 

Leila is a gifted writer. The book is a poignantly candid love letter written to deceased Stuart, detailing the events and emotional difficulties during the months and years of their relationship. Despite the enormous stress of trying to keep Stuart from fulfilling his own demise, Leila's unconditional love never wavers. To me, this is the take-home message. 

I can't help but contrast the long-suffering devotion Leila exhibited for her husband in a far from ideal marriage to many of today's marriages that quickly dissolve when things take a turn for the worse. Leila constantly reassures Stuart of her love for him and tries desperately to get him to seek psychiatric help. She writes honestly about being pulled in different directions, caring for their daughters and trying to make a life for herself. Despite the worst possible outcome, Leila survives and ultimately thrives. 

This not a feel-good read. To those of us who have a need to understand humanity and all its frailties, however, this book will enlighten.