Fighting the Stigma

There are times when it's really hard to fight for yourself when it comes to mental illness. One of these times for me was when I was fighting for my children.

I had been going through a rather wicked manic phase that ended with my considering overdosing on some prescription medication. Nick walked in on me with the pills in my hand - I was ready to put them back in the container. He wrestled the pills out of my hand. We got into a huge fight. The police were called. Statements were taken, but I didn't give my statement. This was 16 years ago. Back then, the police didn't pay attention to the word of a mentally ill person. I didn't feel it was worth it to give my side of the story. I was taken to a state mental hospital and spent about three weeks there.

When I got out of the hospital, I went to live in a halfway house. Nick filed for divorce while I was there. (To be fair, when I was in court, I screamed from the stand I wanted a divorce.) One of the items in the divorce papers he demanded was full custody of the kids. I remember how my heart dropped. My kids were, and still are, my life. Tea was 3 at the time, and Bryan was 7. I couldn't imagine life without them.

Nick would occasionally bring the kids to the halfway house to see me, and we almost always fought. He would flat out state that he would use my mental health against me, and the scary thing was, I knew a court would rule in his favor. My psychiatrist was not optimistic with me about winning custody.

I was unpacking boxes in my room at the halfway house one day and ran across a picture of our little family. I started crying. I knew I had to do whatever I could to keep my family together. I held out an olive branch to Nick. We started talking like human beings again. Soon we were back together. I had my family back.

(Not the picture I ran across - this picture was taken the summer after we got back together.)

Ever since then, though, I've been terrified of losing my kids due to my mental health issues. I've had some psychiatrists tell me it's a huge possibility. I've had other psychiatrists and therapists tell me times have changed and I have nothing to worry about - I'm stable and can provide a good home.

When I was in the hospital in February 2020, I told Nick I wanted to leave, but I was afraid he would take the kids. I was in a very drug-induced haze, but I recall him telling me he wouldn't fight me. My mind tells me this wasn't real. I feel as though I was imagining this whole conversation. I remember telling him I wanted to leave. The rest of the conversation is fuzzy.

Sometimes you do things in life to protect others. Sometimes you're frozen and don't know what to do. Sometimes you just move along trying to make the best of the situation you're in.

Nobody knows the full story of anybody's life. You just get a snapshot at any time. Be kind to one another.

Until next week's dirt...