Unwanted Journey

Our unwanted journey began in the sixth month of the new millennium. We are still no this journey and know that this is one journey that will forever be part of our waking and sleeping hours. This is an unwanted journey into the world of mental illness.

 Our family was just as typical as any other indigenous one. There was the pressure of trying to conform to the acceptable level of society’s expectations while trying not to lose too much of our individual identity and proud heritage. We had the same expectations as any other parent, for our four children, and taught them that being different does not mean being ‘wrong’. Cultivating desirable traits such as tolerance empathy, kindness, love and long-suffering which are every parent’s/carer’s aims. There were many situations which arose and encouraged each of us to put many of these various traits and many others to good use. The only losses we as a family experienced were on the level of losing a loved one in death, or farewelling a loved one who was moving to live in another area. There are of course, many different losses one can experience in growing up and also in rearing up.

 After our two sons grew to adulthood and moved forward with their own individual life’s journeys, my husband and I then looked forward to the same thing for their sisters; our last two youngsters still at home. There is such a big difference dealing with two younger females not very far apart in age, and just about going through the same uncertain stages at virtually the same time. The two sons were years apart and we, as parents, had time to adjust and prepare before the next onset of puberty between the elder to the younger.

 Our third young person Taz, was ready to being her life’s journey. The decision to let her spread her wings of freedom, was not easy to put into practice. Taz was very quite, easy going, sensitive, caring and loving, not one to ‘make waves’ so to speak. We were concerned about the exposure to society’s expectations of this young indigenous woman, without the safety net of the home based unit. Our young adult was being whisked many miles away from a laid back sort of lifestyle, strong support structure of two parents who have had the experience of growing up as indigenous persons in a mixed society of various levels of cultures and expectations and who have learned the art of being flexible yet firm.

 The first little spears of concern that poked at us began with a hint from an aunt with whom she was staying. Something was troubling our daughter and the effect on her outlook, reasoning, attitudes and emotions was becoming very noticeable. When we spoke with her on the phone, the question of us moving house to be closer to her always arose, as she seemed to want that very much. Our plans were to relocate after the graduation of her younger sister from school. My conversations with Taz always ended with her in tears, sobbing and accusing me of fighting with her. This was very puzzling, as there was no basis for the accusation. I recall a lot of giggling from her end of the line then tears suddenly. Her father would always have to end the communication after calming her down.

 One evening, not long after one of these incidents, we were given a story to read; it was about sadness, death and loss. This story had been written by someone in great emotional pain and wanting to end it all as the feeling of loss was too much to handle. It was very frightening, and all the more so when we found out that Taz had written it. The whys? How comes? Oh nos? echoed around and around in our heads, our conversations in our personal deliberations.

 As a mother, my overpowering need to protect was strong, and having miles between my child and me made it unbearable, frustrating, with guilt weaving in and out. Our need to connect with our eldest daughter physically and emotionally, gave us the strength to move house as quickly as possible. My first reaction at seeing our daughter was one mixed with shock, anger, puzzlement and uncertainty. Taz’s manner was hesitant, unsure and seemingly as if guilty of something, and with a mother’s instinct I knew something was not quite right. When her dad joined us later, we were able to get an appointment for her to see a counselor, as the weird actions of Taz demanded some sort of investigation. The actions of sleeplessness, crying and laughing, talking to mid-air, along with hints of self-destruction were very frightening and alarming.

 In one day, the whole picture of what we had started to colour in as our family changed. There seemed to be no identifying mark of who we were, there was just a huge feeling of loss, and not knowing why. Mental illness in the shape of SCHIZOPHRENIA had rudely entered and made us a part of its unwantedness. The vibrations of this new obstacle that had stopped our family unit in its tracks were felt all the way through to our extended families.

 Taz’s siblings had various views of how to help her, yet the one main feeling of loss and grief was the glue that held us together. We knew education about our obstacle – mental illness – was urgently needed so that there would be no made up or gammon opinions started and accepted throughout the extended families set-up. There was one opinion already made regarding our daughter’s state of mind. Due to the fact of her speaking to invisible persons, (voices) the medical staff felt it may be part of her indigenous culture and suggested a ceremony that was accepted and encouraged by many with indigenous backgrounds. We acknowledge that there is a widely accepted view of various cultural healing methods, yet Taz was not willing to be part of any suggested methods and we, (parents and siblings) supported her fully. We also knew that this particular healing ceremony was not in harmony with how we reared our children and we ourselves knew took, from our own individual upbringing, that there are certain boundaries that are not to be crossed spiritually, physically or emotionally. Thus there would have been more harm than good done to our daughter.

 Taz had to be hospitalized and helped to start on a journey of medications, blood tests, counseling, adjusting and rethinking. Many trials occurred and had to be endured – some happy, some not so happy – yet each made all of us more determined to hang in there and hang on tightly to our loved one. More changes along the way, medications, support staff, doctors, houses meant more stresses and more tears. At times the situation can become unbearable and we really need to scrape the bottom of the barrel to find some residue of strength to carry on. Because our extended families live many hundreds of miles away from us and this includes our parents, sometimes the emotional tide can be a big one and our little raft can be swamped, but love can always keep us hanging on with hope helping to keep us afloat. We have met and made friends and acquaintances who play a big part in Taz’s and our coping strategies.

 One of the main supportive groups that have made the impossible seem possible has been ARAFMI. The education, understanding, empathy, encouragement and a listening ear has helped our immediate family to have a clearer view, and also pass on the correct information to our other extended families. We have met and interacted with many caring health personnel and will no doubt meet many more as we continue along this unwanted journey. We are still learning and still discovering more insight into this unasked for side of our child’s life.

 The various workshops ARAFMI offers has encouraged us to start taking those much needed steps, one at a time. ARAFMI members do not let you do it without support. When one step is taken, you can be very sure that ARAFMI is with you taking that step and also when those steps go backwards at times.

 This obstacle that momentarily stopped our family in its tracks is still there. The difference is, instead of allowing it to stumble us, we have, with so much love, support and encouragement, jumped up onto it, and are beginning to walk over it, the best way we know how.

 ‘Tresa”