Personal Stories

I’m not the perfect caregiver. But by throwing myself into this lifelong learning process, I’m much better able to help her when she needs it.

I recalled how my mother had struggled find the right help and support — the stress in her voice, the constant phone calls detailing terrible incidents that took place at the height of my brother’s symptoms.

"Now during quarantine, it’s like all I have is time. Time to reflect on that day my brother took his life. But I know I’m not alone."

"This speed, savvy, and importance placed on unconditional support regardless of my circumstances was the rallying cry of my parents throughout my recovery, even when I fought them on it."

Reactions like that are why I want to tell the world about my experience—the fact that my little story could change someone’s perspective on mental illness, well, that’s huge.

To me, recovery means validating my own feelings, trusting in my experiences and admitting that it was not my fault.

For the men and women who love and support a person with mental illness; thank you. For you, we are forever grateful.

My diagnosis: chronic adjustment disorder, induced initially by my ex cheating on me and ultimately by the end of my first marriage. Perhaps I should have sought counseling five years ago, although I don’t think I was in the right place then to accept it and move forward. 

I never imagined that I would come to learn about mental illness through a family member—my daughter.