My Family and I (Mental Illness), 2001, by Alan Lunt
From MemoryArchive
Who: Alan Lunt What: My Family and I When: 1980s and 1990s Where: New Jersey
There was a time, in my illness, that I was at odds with my family. And, when I went into the hospital in 1980, I didn't want to see them. In fact, the hospital had asked me if there was anyone I wanted -- or didn't want to see. I told them I didn't want to see my parents. It is difficult for me to say why, but that I projected much of my problems on them -- I blamed them for my perceived shortcomings.
You must understand that at the time, I viewed mental illness as a personality or character defect. I recognized that the illness can cause a certain social withdrawal. And, on top of that, I also had and have an introspective or independent personality type -- which results in a certain distance from others. At the same time, I didn't like myself; I wanted to be a social butterfly, and I blamed my parents that I was not.
What I wanted was freedom from personality, freedom to be anything I chose to be. I was unhappy with my looks, also. I dreamed of what I could do if only I was extremely handsome, extremely outgoing, extremely experienced and socially skilled, all of which I felt I lacked. I was not satisfied with my wisdom: I wanted wisdom to say that what I wished would be true.
All of this wishing was a rejection of reality -- fantasy was preferable, and far fairer. Further, I believed that I had to be what I wished to be in order to be happy. And, if I was not what I wished to be, it could only be my parents' fault. If only they had given me different genes; if only they had raised me differently; then I could be whatever I wished. I took an internal problem and projected it out. It was my parents' fault that I couldn't find a job, my parents' fault that I was not more outgoing, my parents' fault that I did not have more friends or a girlfriend.
My family was very concerned about me; but I, at times, viewed this as an intrusion into my life. My father, for one, was very concerned that I find a job, because he feared he might lose his, becoming unable to support me. I told my parents that my mother could find a job (instead of me) and this suggestion upset them further, for Alan was not taking responsibility for his life. It was difficult for them to get me to do chores around the house, let alone find a job.
It was my family, though, that generally took me to the hospital, and it was they that knew when Alan was ill. In those early years, I didn't have a clue. I thought that I was better than ever just before I went to the hospital. I thought that psychosis was insight. I viewed illness as health. I didn't like medication. When I went off it, things would start to happen; ideas would then come to me like they rarely had. Psychosis told me that I was smart, good looking, outgoing, and everything that I thought I lacked. Psychosis was great. But it didn't fool my family.
It took a twelve-step program to help me. It took acceptance, plus right action. And it didn't happen right away. But it happened. Work was the key. If I could work, I felt less "abnormal," even if the work was only part-time. I could be up and doing something instead of sitting around, vegetating. Idle hands are the devil's playthings, and for me, too little to do can be as stressful as too much.
So I went back to school; I consulted my friends and family about which school to attend and what to study. I chose the University of Medicine and Dentistry of New Jersey (UMDNJ) and I majored in Psychosocial Rehabilitation and Treatment. I graduated. I got a part-time job in my field. I started graduate school. I got a full-time job on a PACT Team.
And all the way through, I talked with my family and friends. I talked with my colleagues. My family gave me support. My colleagues gave me advice. I joined a self-help group. And -- somehow -- good, sound decisions were made.
Low and behold, my executive director nominated me for the Board of Directors of the New Jersey Psychiatric Rehabilitation Association (NJPRA), a state chapter of the International Association of Psychosocial Rehabilitation Services (IAPSRS). Our state president suggested that I start the Consumer Issues Committee, and that I be its chairperson. We started running Consumer Forums as workshops at our annual conference. Soon, I was in demand as a public speaker.
I was writing papers for classes at school, but soon I began writing on my own. I shared what I wrote with family and friends. And then I shared some with journal publishers, and I became a published author writing on recovery. So, though I started by blaming my family for my shortcomings, eventually I employed them as supports in my life and in my recovery.
Reproduced with permission from New York City Voices, where you will also find more information about recovery.
