"We learned to live with our mother's disorder, to respect and love her as she was."
Mental health is nothing more than a person's biological, psychological, social, and spiritual well-being—a state difficult to achieve in our times, and one whose imbalances are increasingly common. Mental disorders are illnesses like any other, but, both then and now, they are compounded by the fact that they are taboo. Most people don't want to talk about them, don't recognize them in themselves or their families, hide them, and feel fear and even shame.
And that's true because I've lived with them since I was a child, since my mother had her first episode of "schizophrenic crisis" when I was only 9 years old. I call it a "crisis" because of the first time she lost her mind, didn't know who she was, saw hallucinations, changed personalities, and, above all, didn't recognize us as her family and was aggressive towards us and those around her. We lived through a constant emotional upheaval.
My mother experienced these episodes at least twice a year throughout my childhood and adolescence. These episodes could last for weeks or even months, and her personality would change from one episode to the next. I remember seeing someone who looked like my "mom," but every time she came back, she acted differently, looked different, dressed differently—it scared me. As we grew up, these episodes became less frequent, and by the time we were adults, they had diminished to the point where she could recover from an episode in hours without needing to be admitted to a psychiatric clinic. They even changed her diagnosis to bipolar disorder. But, in reality, we no longer cared what it was called; it was simply a mental disorder that had changed all of our lives in one way or another, forever.
My mother's mental disorder changed all of our lives in one way or another forever.
This is difficult for a child to experience and understand. However, my little sister and I were fortunate to have the support and wisdom of our father, our grandparents, and our aunts and uncles, who, with immense love and patience, taught us that this disorder was just that—a disorder like any other. That our mother hadn't chosen it; it was simply her lot in life. That just as some people get cancer, others have accidents and lose a limb, others develop kidney disease… Well, some people are affected by it, and they don't do it on purpose, nor are they manipulating anything; they simply suffer from a disorder that sometimes overwhelms them.
Ten myths about psychosis
We were taught not to be ashamed of it, because there was nothing wrong with it, neither with her nor with us. And we learned to love our mother immensely, even though it didn't always seem that way. We were taught not to judge her, to respect her despite her sometimes aggressive, vulnerable, fragile, and even terribly unbearable nature. We learned that love and family unity can overcome anything, and that with patience and tolerance we could help her.
When she was well, "without a crisis," she was wonderful, affectionate, and very good. We explained to her how she acted during crises and gave her guidelines for getting out of her episodes, for remembering us and who she was. I remember that she, with her boundless motherly love, when she was having these episodes, would strive to remember and try to repeat, as if reciting the multiplication tables, her name, ours, and the reason for being there.
We were taught not to judge her, to respect her despite her vulnerability, fragility, and even her sometimes unbearable nature. We learned that love and family unity can overcome anything.
My father was immensely loving and patient; he never abandoned us and more than made up for any hardships we might have experienced because of having a mother with a mental health condition. But I also remember that, with discipline, he told us that our situation didn't make us any less responsible for our lives, studies, and household chores, and that it wasn't an excuse to be less than others, only that the effort should be greater. He would read us Little Women and compare us to the characters, saying that they lived through a war and yet they managed to overcome it as a united family.
I remember cooking when I was ten, maturing very quickly, and having to miss out on some of the things teenagers enjoy, as everyone has to do at some point. But above all, we learned to live with the disorder as something normal.
My mother was wonderful, loving, and very kind. Out of her boundless maternal love, when she was in crisis, she would repeat her name, our name, and the reason for being there, as if reciting the multiplication tables.
Today, both my sister and I are healthy, free of vices, joyful, fulfilled, with professional careers and postgraduate degrees, happily married, with wonderful children, and serving our community with love and gratitude for everything we've experienced. Because each experience we've had through this disorder has made us stronger, closer, and better people. We've learned to value health, family, and life as a treasure, but above all, as a gift from God.
My mother died at 61 from a brainstem stroke caused by a spike in blood pressure brought on by the anxiety of my son having brain surgery when he was only 4 months old, and my father died a year after her passing, at the age of 64; we presume he gave up…
In honor of my parents: Nilda Consuelo Peña López de Gutiérrez, the most loving and devoted mother, and Ángel Humberto Gutiérrez González, the wisest and most tolerant father.
Featuring
