Tuesday, August 5, 2008


Repetition is necessary for catharsis and internalization and eventual unconscious acceptance of the reality of the loss.
Healing the Child Within
by Charles L. Whitfield

... The process of confiding is so powerful. Research shows that when people begin to confide, their blood pressure goes up, they begin to tense and sweat and their immune system is less effective, but after they're through, all their vital signs improve. It actually requires energy not to tell stories.
by Susan Baur

My mom was a psychotic or schizophrenic--not just depressed. She didn't have spiritual warfare or a nervous breakdown. She was seriously mentally ill. I don't remember when I first knew that. She wasn't like other mothers. She rarely went to our school's Mother's Club; never walked me to school; never made my lunch; rarely kept up the laundry or worried about what I would wear to school. Everything overwhelmed my mom.

I don't remember much--have suppressed, stuffed, denied... I do remember being about 10 years old and home sick from school. My brother was an infant. She grabbed him in her arms and me by the hand. I was wearing her red quilted robe over my probably inadequate pajamas. She led us out the door and into the street. I don't remember how she compelled me to go. She said something as simple as, "We're leaving." I don't know how we got back home. I think they hospitalized her that night.

My oldest sister just told me a story that may have been the same day--I don't know. Mom was locked in the bathroom singing and praying loudly. Dad came up the stairs to our bedrooms where we were sleeping. He was crying. He asked JA to come downstairs and help with the baby. The next day our mom's parents came to spend the day while Dad worked. JA stayed home from school to help with the baby. Mom wouldn't eat--she thought she was being poisoned. JA remembered she loved Heath bars and ran to the El Vista Modern Market or Sikes Brothers and bought two candy bars. Mom took them and gobbled them down. That night the family doctor came to our house and Mom was sent to the hospital. Dad's parents drove the two hours to our house and grandma stayed with us for several weeks--going home on weekends to organize grandpa's life, laundry, and food.

I faintly remember this, but could never have recalled it if JA hadn't told me the story.

No comments: