Wednesday, September 25, 2013

The Sunlight After The Darkest Midnight

I was thinking today of all that we have lost to schizophrenia. This isn't about being sad necessarily just more an observation of what we once had and what is now.

I was changing the shower curtain in our bathroom and was wanting to change it to something I really liked but was reminded yet again why that ugly striped, not-matching, curtain was hanging t
here in the first place. As a result of months of fighting to get Thomas to take showers, anxiety while he was in the shower, and finally him quitting them altogether for a short time, we had changed what was once part of the d├ęcor of our bathroom to something that would enable him to be able to shower again unafraid.

I am not the least bit upset that a blue horizontal striped shower curtain hangs in my newly remodeled bathroom. Not in the least. No one ever goes in there but the family and we are all aware of why it hangs there. What does upset me is why it's there and every time I take a shower, or like yesterday, wanting to change the shower curtain, I am reminded of what schizophrenia has taken from us.

What gets me about this is that this illness has the nerve to take from my young man something that is rightfully his. It fills him with fear about unnecessary thing and rips from his grasp, plain old ordinary things and turns them into monsters and leaves us all hoping he can regain those things but disappointed when we end up saying good bye to them forever.

This is the nature of the beast that's for sure but one I am not yet willing to bow down to on behalf of my son. We had a run-around, Thomas and I, in a restaurant yesterday about where our table was located, it's size, etc. and instead of letting the beast take our nice table with a view from us, I worked patiently with Thomas to get down to the bottom of his anxiety and help him work through it. He ended up enjoying his lunch overlooking our beautiful valley and we were all able to claim a victory against schizophrenia's grasp on our throats.

I write this to offer some hope to all of you. The fact of the matter is, you will lose pieces of your life to this (like my shower curtain) but there will also be touching victories to silently celebrate every time you have a memory of that day that schizophrenia tried to take a piece of your loved one away for good. There is always a sun that follows the blackness of midnight. You just have to hold onto that in the hard times.

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