Road maps, magic pills, and genies

Mental illness took from me. It took dances in the middle of the floor and jokes that filled laughter throughout the house. Times of creativity filling the house where we all are creating projects.

Mental illness took from me, talks on the couch about hip hop and our private rap battles (I got skills, shh). Times of me doing work on the computer while his head is on my shoulder.

Mental illness took the young man who would willingly grab my groceries and give me hugs on my bad days. It took that look that every mom gives to say she is not the one for you. It took arguments about teenage choices and experiences that are normal.

It took my life that once was and made it so foreign that it's hard to convince myself that it was once normal. It's the understanding of my own mourning process since he is no longer the person he was and knowing that it must be quiet because no one else understands it.

It gave me conversation with his siblings where I have to recognize, their mourning and society that never sees their pain. It's the fact that his illness and our pain is invisible to society that we have to be quiet.

There is no road map to this at all. Our family has crashed into brick walls at top speed. There is/was no rescue coming we were out in the wilderness alone with no real answers. But we had to piece it together. This experience seemed less than fair but there was never an answer, nothing was ever clear. Our pain never understandable to others looking in. To others we don't look like the picture most people assume it should be. We smile and we laugh through our tears. We show up when his entire team seems to wonder why we still care. Mental illness took from me, but we continue to fight and stand together.

So if you know families like mine learn to be kind, lead them with humanity. Give them an ear to listen to and a place to vent that is safe. There loss is greater than you can imagine. As a provider I will do the same for your loved one. Humanity goes a long way.

For providers:

• Treat your clients with humanity.
• Acknowledge the family's struggle.
• Meet them half way as you would like them to do if it were your family members (some families are providers themselves)
• Take the time to understand.

To families:

• Self care is your best tool and the most unselfish thing you can do.
• Breathe, run from that place where you tense up and cut off part of your breath.
• Keep it moving exercise, often it clears your mind.
• Journal writing it down allows you to give it space to heal.