When a close family member suffers from a mental illness, the rollercoaster lifestyle takes you on an unpredictable journey. You can neither plan nor have expectations. No one knows what each day will bring. You may cry, pray, question or soul search all the while going through the traditional stages of grief for the life you pictured in your mind. My outlook has been made possible by the survival skills taught by NAMI (National Alliance for Mental Health), including self-care. It taught me that it is not just okay to take care of yourself first, but it is imperative that you do so. A good example is of the stewardess instructing the passengers on the plane that, “in the case of an emergency, please place your own oxygen mask on and then assist anyone around you.” For many of us (especially Jewish mothers!), this is a foreign concept. By the time we have finished caring for everyone else we pass out exhausted, no time for ourselves. But, I realized how crucial it is.
Three years ago, my then husband was admitted to Research Psychiatric Hospital. {mprestriction ids="1,3"}During his stay I worked all day, squeezed in a visit with him, then returned home to fulfill my role of mother to our newborn son. There is no stranger feeling than kissing your husband goodnight, turning around and going home to bed alone.
My family, in-laws, friends and community all gathered around me, supporting me, encouraging me, offering help, but really there was nothing they could do. No matter how hard they tried, they did not understand, they could not. No one could change what I was going through or make the situation better.
I remember flipping through The Jewish Chronicle and saw an article for an upcoming class being offered by Jewish Family Services called “Family-to-Family,” a NAMI program. I had never heard of either the class or the organization, but I read the description, “NAMI Family-to-Family not only provides critical information and strategies for taking care of the person you love, but you’ll also find out that you’re not alone.” This was exactly what I needed: hope, options, but most of all to not be alone. Other spouses, mothers, fathers, siblings, children, friends all knew what it felt to be alone, scared, helpless, hopeless, angry, confused, lost.
The person who suffers from mental illness often goes to therapists, psychiatrists and support groups, but this is not geared for the family members and givers. The family is on the outside trying to put back together the broken pieces of your lives. This course was the outlet I needed to continue making it through each day.
I signed up for the next available class. It was a G-d send. The course was so impactful on my life that by the third week I asked, “What’s next?” The instructor answered, “we always need teachers!” and the rest is history. I attended a training weekend in Wichita and have taught two classes, fall and spring of that year. This past year, I took some time away for my self-care but I am starting back again at the end of April.
The beauty I found in this class is the incredible bond that develops throughout 12, two-and-a-half hour sessions. The first night of class you are all quiet strangers, looking around the room, trying to guess each other’s “loved one” or situation. But, very quickly, you begin learning, sharing and growing together.
Personally, the course helped me a tremendous amount. My loved one, however, was not seeing much progress. Throughout the time I attended the course and taught the following two courses, we were going through some very difficult times.
During this process, many of the people I met helped me see life beyond the heartache. I began to think of that possibility: life without every breath or movement controlled by illness. The concept was so foreign I had no idea how freeing it could be. When you are living in survival mode, you protect yourself by being blind to the severity of the situation. Never do you think that such pain and anguish would contaminate your life, but mental illness does not choose their victims.
If my decision to pursue a divorce was solely about me, then likely I would have never made the choice, but two other people needed protecting, my then husband and my son. Something had to change and only I had the power to do that. My then husband, although still suffering after our divorce, was granted his own relief. He no longer had to live up to the standards of being a husband and trying to maintain our relationship. With the lifting of this pressure, we have found longer periods between episodes. He has formed his own routines, friendships and pursues his hobbies on his terms. The difference in him tells me that it was the right decision. As for myself, I did not recognize the angry, impatient person I was becoming. The divorce has allowed me to shed that anger and frustration and replace it with love and compassion.
My former husband will always be a significant part of my life as my first love and the father of our son. We will continue to raise him together and share milestones. NAMI teaches that it is not our responsibility to fix our relatives, that we must rid ourselves of expectations that only set both parties up for failure and to celebrate the small victories (because every victory is worth celebrating no matter the size). My life has been changed by the impact of the Family-to-Family course and through teaching I am privileged to pass along these messages to more family members in need.
Rebecca Katz is an attorney and a Family-to-Family facilitator.{/mprestriction}