The title of this post comes twofold - the meaning should unveil itself through this piece of writing. Something quite fascinating just happened that I feel warrants a post before I forget.
I have an aunt with some sort of mental illness that she has not ever been diagnosed for - from all the symptoms I'm fairly certain she has schizophrenia. Her name is Linda.
I have a story to tell and a confession to make, and this is for her. She is a human being, she is alive, she has a life, she has a story. Because she is not able to tell it, I will from my point of view.
Let me start by noting I am currently enrolled in a summer Abnormal Psychology class at Foothill College. The first week just ended and I learned the basics of what is considered "abnormal", the diagnosis process, and the assessment process. I read about the history of mental institutionalization and the treatment of the mentally ill. It disgusted me how they were being disrespected and being ignored. I thought, "Don't their nurses and other caretakers have any sort of compassion and empathy or love??" There was an experiment done by D.L. Rosenhan (I'm not going to go into detail what it was about - Google has the information), but the point I wanted to bring up was that a nurse changed her clothes in front of the mentally ill - not to be seductive, but because to her the mentally ill were not there. They were invisible and ignored.
I judged that nurse. How could she just change her clothes right in front of a bunch of people?
But now I understand. No, I don't change my clothes in front of my aunt. I know she's there, but at the same time...it feels like she isn't. It's like an on and off switch that changes quickly between the two settings. One second I notice she's there, but the moment she walks away it's like she doesn't exist. Anyways, what just happened probably an hour ago now for me just put the two and two together. What I read for class actually applies to me in my own life. Sometimes things don't click with me as quickly as they should.
I am no better. I ignore and disrespect my Aunt Linda. I scold her, I sometimes yell at her, I don't even think about her a lot of times. It is almost like she's invisible and doesn't exist in my life. I think a lot of my family forget about her. We know she exists and is still alive and breathing, but we don't ask about her. We don't ask how she's doing, because we feel like she's been so stagnant for so many years. We feel like her life is meaningless because she doesn't do anything all day - just eats and sleep. She doesn't step outdoors. Hell, the few friends I've ever uttered a word to about her have also probably forgotten I have an aunt with some sort of mental illness. As terrible as it is, the stark reality is that the mentally ill are truly not treated as human beings.
Do medical staff/doctors/caretakers become desensitized and fazed by seeing the mentally ill every day at work? I would imagine so...and I wouldn't blame them. On the contrary, I find it absolutely astounding when a woman or man comes into a healthcare related job everyday with so much love and care for the people. That to me is an angel.
Anywho...since I was born all I can remember was my Aunt Linda being this way. There was a time when I was 4 years old or so and she dragged me and Bernice through the garage and outside to the car on the driveway, claiming that she needed to protect us and take us away because the devil was coming. I don't recall this happening, but was told many years later. What I do remember from this event is the aftermath - my aunt in her room crying with my parents (namely my dad) yelling at her. I was so unaware of what was going on at the time. However, that was the most extreme action she ever took. Growing up, she would pick Bernice and me up from high school on a daily basis. Nothing was odd about that until one day after getting us, she stopped at Wendy's to get food. I remember being a little embarrassed to walk in a restaurant - even a fast food place - with her looking completely disheveled and to put it simply, crazy. Not only does her looks give her away, but the way she talks is another great indicator that she isn't...normal. So when she opened her mouth to order food, I immediately felt a mixture of emotions. The feeling of protectiveness and that no one had the right to judge her was more dominant than the feeling of embarrassment. This was MY aunt, and I stared hard at the cashier and was prepared to glare at whoever else gave my aunt any small sign of animosity. Of course, my aunt was unaware of the cashier's questioning look towards her. Clearly something is "wrong" with my aunt. Once we left the restaurant is when things became interesting...As we were leaving the parking lot, a couple cars were trying to turn in, but my aunt stopped and started honking like hell and screaming incoherently. She really was screaming. Those familiar with this disorder know that schizophrenics tend to make up their own words or put a string of words together that utterly don't make sense. To this day I'm pretty sure she thought the parking lot was a one-way-in, one-way-out ordeal. I just remember sitting in the car feeling (again) embarrassed because the drivers and passersby were looking at her like she was crazy. After telling her that it was a two-way entrance and for her to just exit, I vividly remember thinking, "Why the fuck is she the one driving us home? Is she really sane enough to?" For years she was always talking/yelling/screaming to herself in the early morning, throughout the day, and late at night. Every time I stayed over at my aunt's place, I'd be irritated and agitated to no end waking up to her yelling.
She has had bouts of OCD - wasting water and leaving it running for so long to wash her hands. She also had a thing about using up so much tissue paper. Right now, we're pretty sure she has diabetes because she shows symptoms of it. And given her diet of fruit, meat, sugary sweets, and other junk food over the years, it undoubtedly leaves a recipe for disaster. She doesn't eat veggies.
We've tried to get her help in the past. In general, schizophrenics are not in denial, they just lack insight and self awareness thereby resisting treatment. Some schizophrenics, however, are aware and are able to lead relatively "normal" lives. But there are episodes of schizophrenia. Sometimes it is heightened and then seems to disappear, only to reappear again after a stressful event. If only more people understood this disorder then they wouldn't be afraid. Schizophrenics are NOT violent or dangerous people like the media or movies sensationalize. They are human beings who need understanding and attention; not blind eyes or backs turned against them.
I wrote all of this because I was at my aunt's place when my Aunt Linda saw me studying on the couch. She likes to look through things like a little curious child. I had 2 binders next to me on the couch, and ironically, of the 2 binders she picked my abnormal psych first. I asked her to read it. I turned to the first page and it said, "What is Abnormal Behavior?" She scanned the page - with her nose pressed to the paper - as best as she could with her poor eyesight (she's far-sighted). She closed the binder. I asked her if she understood it and she simply replied, "No, I don't understand" and walked away. She went back into her room. I think she did understand even in the slightest bit. I wonder if she knows something is different about her. I think she does because she feels it from what family has repeatedly said to her but she chooses to deny it. Sometimes I pity her because it is not at all her fault she is the way she is...
I think to myself her life is unfortunate and she isn't able to live a life of her own because of the captor holding her hostage within the mind. But most importantly, I think of the huge burden and emotional and mental toll it takes my other aunt and my grandpa to take care of her.
No, life isn't fair and square. But we take what we got and we find the blessings of it. All we got is each other.
It just hit me that I don't even have a single photo of me and her. I know she wouldn't want to take one with me if I even asked.
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