This is dedicated to my mom and dad. I look forward to seeing you again one day. All my love.
Thinking back to the early 1990’s after I had my first psychotic breakdown, I recall taking an English class in which the assignment was to understand and write about the directors interpretation in a movie. It was said that everything in the movie was done for a purpose. Everything meant something: ie… the breaking of glass, the distance between actors, water dripping, everything. Analyzing all the reasons and meanings in this movie was a difficult assignment for me.
This task of analyzing was a problem that I had during my breakdown. I was trying to understand the meaning in everything that happened in my life. Is it not true that God is the director of our lives? His plan for our life has already been written? Why can we not try to see and interpret what His plan is? The answer to this question, as plainly spoken by my Professor was, “This is not a movie. This is real life.”
It is quite amazing how the mind can roll one thought and grasp that thought to another one, then make those thoughts mold into something that reasonably makes sense – at least to the individual that is interpreting them. It is unreasonable to acknowledge something as making sense in order to avoid a disagreement. Though to quarrel with someone to make sense of a situation is also pointless, especially when the argument is directed to someone in mental distress.
How each street sign led me to another with purposeful meaning was amazing during my breakdown. How the water and rain was interpreted as cleansing truly led me to being blessed by God. Driving that one day, as it poured, with the window down in the car and my arm outstretched as I was getting soaked was eliminating the fear from my mind and healing me. It was raining for a purpose from God. Cleansing my skin with water being splashed on my face, not only from the sink but also from the bathtub faucet, at a friend’s house helped also with the fear. The examples could continue, but it was my mind explaining everything unrealistically. Even to use the word unrealistic, for me, at times is difficult because EVERYTHING made perfect sense. I understood all that was being done and why. Amazing!
The medications can be harsh. The side effects brutal at times. Even the care could be mean and emotionally damaging. Thankfully understanding and care is improving as time goes forward. I could not stay in that state, and the love of my mother fighting for me got me the care and attention that I needed. My father also understood what desperately needed to be done. My ex-husband lived through it, but throughout our marriage he refused to acknowledge my diagnosis or need for medication. Sometimes it was a battle.
I still struggle. Ups and downs are hard, but living in a fearful state is no longer a daily challenge. The children are now grown and are responsible adults. The hollering and fear of losing my children is over. I am filled with joy that time is healing these fears. This makes it easier. Life is going forward, as it should.