Let's face it. .My mom was crazy. There I admit it. But you know
what? So are many other people. There's nothing for me to be
ashamed of because it is just a part of the journey that is my life. Yes,
she may have walked the streets of St. Thomas and cursed people out
for no apparent reason, but she was still my mother. Her DNA flows
through my body and helps to define who I am today. She had a
family who loved her and tried to understand what had happened to
her mind; what took her sanity away.
As her daughter, I prayed that this would never be my fate: that my
children would not be ashamed to identify themselves as mine; or
that they would never feel too embarrassed to hold their heads up
when my name was mentioned. At least I can look in the mirror and
embrace that part of my history because there are sure a lot of people
running around here looking put together and cracking up on the
inside. Oops! Did I just say that out loud? I think “Self” might have just made
her debut. Now where was I? Oh, my point is that the adage about
judging a book by its cover is true. There are lots of polished people
or funny people posing as “happy” people, when in truth, they may
be covering up a darker side of themselves that most people never
see.
With my mother it was pretty gradual and quiet. It sort of sneaked up
on all of us to be honest with you. She would display some pretty
odd behaviors but because she didn’t ever open up to anyone about
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Author: Yassin S. Hall | Co-Author: Loán C. Sewer
what she was feeling or thinking, her parents didn’t have a name for
the changes they were seeing. I vividly recall one of the good days,
when Mommy was taking me to school and singing “Baby don’t
worry, about a thing; ‘cause every little thing’s gonna be alright.” You
know, Bob Marley's famous song, "Three Little Birds." One of the
other things that I recall is that she was rather overprotective of me
and would walk me right to the door of my classroom in the
mornings. She would also be the first parent waiting for the doors to
open as the bell rang.
But sadly, those memories are few and far between, so I cherish them
even more. But in spite of these happier moments there were
definitely glimpses along the way that something was not right with
her. We just couldn’t put our finger on what it was at the time. You
see, with my mother there were moments of lucidity and then there
were times when she’d pull a disappearing act for days at a time. If
the family was to be brutal y honest, in my opinion, there were
probably small signals that were missed because no one was paying
close attention. My mother, as I said, was living on her own and was
even a voting member of society; but then she started slacking off on
her rent and simply refused to pay for the roof over her head. She
also didn’t talk much about things that were bothering her and could
become almost like an ostrich, burying her head in the sand rather
than face what was going on in her life. At some point during this
time, Mama discovered that Mommy had become paranoid about
germs and started taking baths in rubbing alcohol to keep her skin
clean. These were all small signs that something was going on in her
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JOURNEY UNTOLD: TWISTED LOVE –
MY MOTHER’S STRUGGLE WITH MENTAL ILLNESS
brain, but we just didn’t see it.
As a youngster, I lived with both sets of grandparents mixed in with
time with my own parents. No wonder I wound up having an outspoken,
opinionated alter ego. That’s a lot of bouncing around for one person.
Looking back, I guess I lost my innocence during this time because I
was being exposed to life experiences that would cause me to grow
up more quickly than my friends. I began to slowly notice changes in
my mother’s behavior and said so to my grandmother. For example,
she began counting food. If she bought me a bunch of grapes, she
would count every single grape. Then one random morning, mommy
woke me up and accused me of eating one of her grapes. Now mind
you, in my head I was thinking, she’s getting this worked up over ONE grape?
Little did I know that this was a telltale sign that would make sense
down the road.
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Author: Yassin S. Hall | Co-Author: Loán C. Sewer
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JOURNEY UNTOLD: TWISTED LOVE –
MY MOTHER’S STRUGGLE WITH MENTAL ILLNESS