Living With Mental Illness That Isn’t Mine
My mother insists the government tortures her everywhere she goes.
Tis the season for all sorts of dysfunctional family reunions. Drunk Uncles. Overzealously religious relatives. Diehard Trump supporters. It’s brutal out there when being nice and kind isn't good enough. Or at least--it doesn't help us cope with the insanity.
My mother flew down here last week. To stay. She's on disability and has a Section 8 voucher for subsidized housing, so she's sleeping on my couch until she finds a suitable apartment. Probably through December or January. But the city housing agency gave her an extension through spring. So...
Don't get me wrong--I love my mother. But I've written a lot about our relationship for good reason. She refuses to acknowledge her own mental illness. In my mom's mind, mental illness isn't real. But demons are.
So she refuses to accept the help she needs.
In my teenage years, she began telling me I was possessed and "practicing witchcraft." That meant she thought I was too rebellious. Despite my being a good Christian kid who feared to upset her more than anything, I couldn't earn her trust or respect.
As a young adult, I began to notice that my mom wasn't just overly religious or…
