There might be a history, a predisposition to a mental condition, plus how this woman got abused by her husband, and lost her child, and all of that added together, to cause her psychosis…translated…
It'd been thirty years, this long a time, I can't even recall, when was the last time my mother ever, smiled, at me.
First, let's begin with how my mother left home without goodbye to us, to find the tracks of her going missing, I'd first gone to her room, and, there was, the chaos, and the rancid smile that came towards me, then, I'd started, receiving those, hard to understand, chaotic, letters of hers, then one day, a rock came smashing through my, bedroom windows, I'd looked out, my mother was downstairs, staring dead straight into my, eyes.
The day she was forced into the psych ward, my older sister insisted not letting me go with, after I came home from school that afternoon, it'd looked like a war happened in my home.
her mother in the psych ward...photo from online
The unsettling feel, that unstable feeling, caused the memories of running away from home to surface back up, my birthfather died early, my stepfather had been abusive to us long-term, my older sister couldn't take it, ran with me to stay with our maternal grandmother. While my mother couldn't leave, because how she couldn't let go of the children she had with our stepfather. In the middle of the nights, the police called us, that our mother was beaten to her head busting open and bleeding. As we'd, worked our best to persuade her to leave her abusive husband, she'd also, lost her child, was it right then and there, that the door to the psychosis had, opened before her then.
Unlocking the layers of doors by the key cards, entered into the psych ward, the room was bright, the patients stood, and swayed or they'd, sat, like the bodies without the souls occupying inside, empty shells, carrying the heavy burdens of the stories of the individuals. The volunteer at the corner was trying to manage my mother's tangled hair that she'd allowed to grow all over the place since she fell ill.
After she was discharged, we'd found a fitting home for her, which she lives until now, being on the medications by schedule, she'd, become, stabilized, but lost her social abilities completely, and always stayed quiet, without any words, aloof, and cared less about all that is around her, only after the treatment sessions were over every time, she'd, grabbed the medicines and checked them to see if meds were there, multiple times, then she'd felt, settled, down. I'd understood that the medications kept her moods balanced, and her behaviors correct, but, the cost of this is, she's lost, the other things meaningful to her in life.
The very first time the psychiatric ward hosted a family day banquet, the resident sitting opposite of me was like a hostess who ushered in her guests, kept hollering, turning the rotating tabletops to the point of, grabbing the foods out of the plates to put it onto the plates of, others, her son next to her kept mumbling for her to stop……….at the end of the meal, the son got up, extended his arms toward his mother, and his mother immediately took his arms, wrapped her arms around his, and they'd left together, leaning into each other, and this caused, a ton of emotions to, surface inside of me.
As a family of a psychologically ill patient, we were impacted indirectly by the mental illnesses, and would often go in-between accompanying my mother and silently, asking god. I'd turned to look over at my mother who was still eating, she was once, a mother who'd prepared my three meals per day, who'd, braided my hair in smiles, but also, the one who'd sent out these, unsettling letters, who'd, thrown the rocks to break the windows of my bedroom too. And now, because of the medications and her growing older, her trembling hands worked their hardest to get the foods into her mouth, and the pause button pressed down on her, emotions, I'd, pulled a Kleenex, wiped the oils on her face, and, started telling her, "no hurry, eat slowly", like she was, a child of, mine.
So, this is, what had set your mother off, some event, that caused the onset of this individual's mother's psychotic breakdown, and, maybe it was the long-term abuse from her stepfather, and her mother refused to leave the child she had with him behind, so she'd, stayed, and, she'd lost her child that way, and that was, too difficult for the woman to take, and she'd become, psychotic, and, everything was a downward spiral from there, and there's, no full recovery in this family's situation, and the family can only, cope with their mother's conditions, by placing her in a psych ward, and that, was what's best for her.
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