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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Questions and Answers.

ONE OF THE GENEROUSLY COMPLIMENTARY readers of my memoir REACHING recently emailed me follow-up questions. It's always a good omen when people care enough about one's work that they're willing to facilitate a deeper conversation. 

Carol asked about my husband, Steve. Having noticed that I didn't put a lot of emphasis on him in my book, she wondered what his actions and reactions were to the decisions I made with Brock and his methods.

I purposely didn't discuss Steve in detail because I felt that his feelings and motivations during that time in our lives were and are his story, not mine. But Carol's questions are legitimate. 

Did he consider having you committed or did he not see what was going on? 

By law, after a suicide attempt, hospitalization is mandatory. However, because of my strong attachment to Brock, after my brief hospitalization, I went back to him. This was my only hospital stay and it was a waste of money. Many times, Steve urged me to look for legitimate counseling but he was also somewhat under Brock's influence and really wanted to experience this supposed miracle that Brock promised. Brock was a very, very confident man with a lot of charisma and a strong personality. He played a fatherly role with Steve which I believe was genuine but also damaging. Steve's personality type is one of avoiding conflict and confrontation and because I was very volatile, he put a distance between us to keep me from going ballistic. It was a very complicated time for him. 

How are your children doing, having gone through all of this?  

They have scars. My oldest (out of 4 kids) is also my only son. He suffered the most because he saw so much of what was going on. And my husband admits to leaning heavily on him for babysitting and emotional support. He regrets not being able to meet our son's needs. I think the biggest thing my kids struggled with is the lack of social interaction that occurred when I isolated myself. As adults, they still have issues about feeling accepted and a part of a group. And this is one of my biggest regrets. We were all robbed. 

Steve and I have always been open with our kids about how things went down and how we hurt them by our decisions. We both agree that part of being good parents is to offer a sincere apology for how we've screwed up and earnestly endeavoring to right the wrongs. Thankfully we have very forgiving kids.  

Carol brings up one more issue that I'll address next time. 

Thank you, Carol for your observations and questions. 

Thoughts anyone?  

Memory-Triggers

FOR ME, ONE OF THE great memory-triggers, is music. I was more than a little obsessed with radio and music during the 1970s. It was an escape, yes, but also a vital link to a world outside my four walls. I remember loving the voice of Gilbert O'Sullivan and the sweet, upbeat tune he mastered for his hit, Alone Again (Naturally). The tune belied the lyrics.

In a little while from now

If I'm not feeling any less sour

I promise myself to treat myself

And visit a nearby tower

And climbing to the top

Will throw myself off 

In an effort to 

Make it clear to who ever

Wants to know what it's like

When you're shattered

Left standing in the lurch at a church

Where people saying, My God, that's tough

She stood him up

No point in us remaining

We may as well go home

As I did on my own

Alone again, naturally. 

To think that only yesterday

I was cheerful, bright and gay

Looking forward to who wouldn't do

The role I was about to play

But as if to knock me down

Reality came around

And without so much as a mere touch

Cut me into little pieces

Leaving me to doubt 

Talk about, God in His mercy

Oh, if he really does exist

Why did he desert me 

In my hour of need?

I truly am indeed 

Alone again, naturally

It seems to me that 

there are more hearts

Broken in the world 

that can't be mended

left unattended

What do we do? 

What do we do? 

Alone again, naturally

Looking back over the years

And whatever else that appears

I remember I cried when my father died

Never wishing to hide the tears

And at 65 years old, 

My mother, God rest her soul

Couldn't understand why the only man

She had ever loved had been taken

Leaving her to start 

With a heart so badly broken

Despite encouragement from me

No words were ever spoken

And when she passed away

I cried and cried all day,

Alone again, naturally. 

Although I've never been stood-up at the alter, I can understand the author's universal questions. Why God? So alone... devastated by humanity's insensitivies ..so ready to end it all... 

I'm not in that sad place now but I will never forget it. I suppose having been in the depths of despair helps me more appreciate my present mental health and happiness and goodness of humanity. 

How about you? Is there a song, or songs that remind you of sadder (or happier) times? 

Could It Be?

I'M NOT A COUNTRY music fan. In fact, before tonight's news I had never heard the voice of country music star Mindy McCready. And had it not been for the one particular sentence uttered by the reporter, I probably would have dismissed her recent suicide as yet another tragic end to fame. 

When the reporter mentioned that Ms. McCready is survived by her ten-month old son I immediately thought: postpartum depression. 

I did a little research. I could have done a lot more but the gist of what I discovered is that Ms. McCready had led a very turbulent existence. She struggled with addictions and had attempted suicide several times. She'd been in trouble with the law and at one point her ex-boyfriend (and father of her first child) tried to kill her. It's believed that a woman with a history of mental illness (and likely multiple unhealed traumas) is more likely to develop PPD.  

A month or so ago, McCready's current boyfriend also committed suicide. Surely this devastation must have exacerbated her symptoms because she checked herself in to rehab because she feared she was falling off the wagon. 

I know there are no easy answers for mental illness but I have to wonder if Ms. McCready's doctors ignored  or downplayed symptoms of what likely could have been PPD.  

Every time I hear about a suicide, I feel that society has failed that deceased individual. Some people see suicide as a selfish act. I strongly disagree. I see it as the final deed of a broken human being. 

What are your thoughts? It's okay to disagree. 

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.