Happy Despite Love?: Holiday Season in the Time of Schizophrenia

I haven't seen my son Ben in almost two months. The only time I hear from him is if he needs something from CVS. Then I buy it online, leave it at his local store for pick-up, and hope he won’t trade shampoo and conditioner for drugs. (Is that even a thing?)

Other than last year, when Ben was in jail pre-trial, this is the first set of December Holidays without my son.

Thanks for your comments, shares, and subscriptions to my last post, sharing the family experience as our loved ones spiral downwards. Though I write about many aspects of life’s imperfections, posts about my son’s mental illness oftem seem to strike the loudest chord.

For us, and maybe for you, The Holidays are particularly hard. This Hallmark benchmark of family reunions, end-of-year forgiveness, and new beginnings elude those of us who have a loved one out there in the streets, refusing help or treatment.

So - can we be happy anyway? How can we celebrate?

Because we must. 

Because, even though we love (and grieve) our missing loved ones with all our hearts, life has to be more than the fierce despair, hope, and determination that all families feel when a mentally ill loved one is lost to us, yet still here.

Danger - yet the door is open

It’s the “ambiguous loss” of no closure, of a door marked “DANGER” that is always ajar - or, sometimes, wide open.

In the novel Love in the Time of Cholera, (full disclosure, I have yet to read it - but a character in another novel I loved -The Bird Hotel - shared this quote): 

"One could be happy not only without love, but despite it.". 

This line (attributed to  Fermina Daza, who experiences a complicated relationship)  highlights the complex nature of love in the novel, suggesting that true happiness can sometimes exist even when love is not present or is unfulfilled. 

Boy oh boy, if ever there were a “complicated relationship”, loving someone with an SMI (Severe Mental Illness) is a textbook example.

For me, the part of the quote tha rings most true is about being happy despite love. For, of course, I love my son with all my heart. My daughter loves her brother, her kids love their uncle.

…a different kind of Holiday season

And yet this love is underneath the loss and sadness we feel, especially around the holidays.

Can we be “happy” anyway?

Well, yes. At least some, or maybe most, of the time.

There is a saying I often hear quoted: “You’re only as happy as your unhappiest child.”

I have had to choose to throw that belief away. To choose to let anyone else choose my emotions for me -  even my first-born child - would be a disservice to the rest of my life: to family, to friends, to work, to art, to nature, to reality.

I choose happier. This isn’t always easy. But I choose it.

And, of course, cry when I need to.

But here’s the hardest question: Does Ben’s life have “worth” right now?

Would I have chosen to give birth to him, knowing the heartaches ahead for us all?

Yes I know. No one wants to ask that question.

Yet those of us who have mentally ill loved ones do ask it at times. We do. For it hurts so much to see them suffer, and to be powerless to help - emotionally, financially, and legally.

Ben won’t/can’t accept our love right now. 

He will do anything for his next fix.

His teeth are so unhealthy they could become infected and cause his death.

He is about to be evicted - or arrested.

His so-called “friends” are actually drug dealers taking advantage of him.

Families ask: What kind of a life is that?

Me? I am compartmentalizing like crazy.

I do my work. 

I help and celebrate with my family (what’s left of it). 

I go to storytelling class. 

I go to parties, to the movies, out to dinner.. 

I binge-watch Only Murders in the Building with my husband.

I live my life.

I do my podcast.

He made me a Mom, my daughter a sister.

I go to AlAnon.

Because that is how I can cope.

Happy despite love, despite the missing piece in my life.

I’m not without my son’s love right now, looking at the big picture. He’s still the same being who made me a mom, who taught me about unconditional love just by existing, who challenged me, made me laugh, made me angry and frustrated, made me so proud.

I love my son. 

I can pretend he is away in a different way, in the ways he used to be - doing volunteer work, at summer camp, on a teen trip, in a program.

I can be grateful to the few people who are also doing their best to keep him safe (an attorney, some case managers, a nursing agency, the police).

I can focus on what is still so good in my life and help nurse the many broken hearts caused by my son’s dual illnesses (schizophrenia, and now addiction).

Yes, I will be happy despite love. Most of the time.

Like all families I know, of course I will do my best to help when help is asked for - and sometimes when it isn’t.

But, in the meantime, I remind myself about all the joy that loving Ben  has brought to all our lives.

This is the person who made me a mother. Made my daughter a sister. Taught my husband about step parenting. We would not be the same without loving Ben.

Yes, I always dare to hope. Maybe, just maybe, he will come back to us again. And then, maybe, we will lose him again.

Until then, we fight.

We fight to make the system better.

We fight to raise awareness.

We fight for more research.

We fight for treatment before tragedy.

We fight to stay happy.

We fight for love, for justice, for a miracle. ‘Tis the season.

Happy Holidays, however you celebrate.