If you have been walking for some time alongside a loved one who deals with mental health difficulties, as we have, you have likely worked through the various stages of grief: denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance. It’s not a straight path. Our journey can be quite circular—returning to previous stages any time there is a new episode or a change in our loved one’s rhythms. Continue reading
In the medical world of mental health there is a condition that isn’t talked about much with patients or families. Yet it “affects 50% of people with schizophrenia and 40% of people with bipolar disorder. It can also accompany illnesses such as major depression with psychotic features,” and some kinds of dementia.* It is often mistaken for “denial” and is under-recognized as a contributing factor in medication noncompliance. Continue reading
Our son was out of control. Mania had gripped his mind and overpowered his ability to manage his thoughts, his actions, his choices. Our pleas and our proddings to let us take him to where he could get help were vehemently rejected. Our attempts to engage others to intervene were thwarted. Our anguished prayers had gone unanswered. Continue reading
Amy Simpson’s first book, Troubled Minds, was a great resource for me as I became an advocate in the church for families dealing with mental illness. Her latest book, Blessed are the Unsatisfied, has much to say to any of us trying to make sense of the muddled world we live in and the desire for better. I’m so grateful she is willing to share a bit of her story and wisdom with us. – Catherine
Let Your Longings Lead You to Hope By Amy Simpson
When my mother’s undiagnosed schizophrenia finally became impossible to explain away—and then was diagnosed—my family lost a lot. My siblings and I lost a caregiver and the luxury of dependency. Dad lost the partnership in his marriage. We all effectively lost someone we loved. And we said goodbye to expectations, pictures of how we thought the future would look, as the family’s meager resources coagulated around care for Mom and we all developed our individual ways of coping. Almost without acknowledgment, many of our family’s established ways and rhythms, habits, and traditions were set aside in favor of a severe pragmatism born of necessity. Continue reading
I have long thought that the interventions needed to help our son manage mental illness are the same kinds of care I need to maintain my own good emotional health. God thinks so too, because in Psalm 23 He describes the ways He takes care of all of His people, even me.
The LORD is my shepherd: The One who is-all powerful, all-knowing, all-loving is watching over my life. I am not in charge, neither am I alone. I can entrust my loved one and myself to His care.
I shall not want: The good Shepherd will supply all my needs. He will not withhold from me what would be good for me. The timing of His answer is just as much a part of His care as the provision.
We have just set out on our journey into the new year, but I’m circling back to my thought posted for Christmas 2017. It was just an image, an e-card of sorts, with these words: “May the Prince of Peace reign in your heart at Christmas and always.” It is in Isaiah that the title “Prince of Peace” is bestowed on the coming Messiah. It is in Luke that the angels proclaim “peace on earth” when the Messiah is revealed as Jesus, and the baby Prince comes to begin His reign. And it is in my heart that it really needs to happen.
The world has been churning up perpetual chaos in recent years: earthquakes, fires, floods, famine, wars and threats of war. For families dealing with mental illness, those external events are poignant symbols for the chaos in our lives. When our loved ones’ minds are churning like great waves or their unsettledness sends their thoughts leaping and flaring like a raging fire, our lives are disrupted through seismic-like shocks. And it is then we ask, “Where is my Prince of Peace?” Continue reading
During Thanksgiving at our house, around the table filled with too much food, the conversation usually includes the obligatory listing of things we are thankful for. We recite what we have seen God give or do for us in the last year. New babies, new jobs, new friends. We mention happy vacations or meaningful opportunities, all good gifts from our good Heavenly Father.
However, rarely are there offers of gratitude for the tough stuff: broken relationships, financial struggles, consequences of poor decisions. We are thankful for the gains, but not so appreciative of the losses. As a family dealing with mental illness, some years our honest recounting includes more of the latter.
This blog was written at the invitation of Amy Simpson (author of Troubled Minds: Mental Illness and the Church’s Mission) and posted on her site October 2, 2017. I was grateful to her for the opportunity to share these thoughts with her readers.
I can’t honestly say I am thankful for the mental illness that besets our son. But in full truthfulness I can say I am glad to have been forced to do battle with my theology of suffering and to test both its mettle and mine.