I’m taking a blog break for the next few weeks — or however long it takes to finish the manuscript for my next book, Tomorrow Was Yesterday — Explosive First-Person Indictments of the US Mental Health System — Mothers Across the Nation Tell It Like It Is.
This book is a compilation of over 60 stories collected on this blog from 2016 to the present. Individually these stories are powerful. Together they’re explosive. Hence the title.
For too long, the US has been a culture that’s kept serious mental illness (SMI) in the closet, in the back bedroom, in the category of “things we don’t talk about.”
But no more. The brave mothers sharing their SMI stories have learned that shame and silence don’t work. Indeed, they’re not even called for. SMI is a neurological brain disease. A physical disease like any other physical disease. There’s no reason not to talk about it.
Still, putting their stories out there in a book for all to read is not a decision lightly made. There are many aspects to consider. One mother, who previously shared her story on this blog, declined to be included in the book. “Things have taken a turn for the worse. I can’t think about sharing my story right now. Too many things going on. I hope you understand.”
I do understand. I’ve been there. Unless you’ve “walked in our shoes,” — that worn-out phrase — there’s no way to be aware of the complexities families face trying to support their SMI loved ones. And that makes the bravery of the mothers speaking out in Tomorrow Was Yesterday all the more mind-blowing. That makes their stories all the more educational. One early reader writes: “Omigosh, Dede. This is heart wrenching reading some of these stories. I’m trying to pace myself. This book will have such an impact. Seeing all these stories together has got to make a difference.”
Staying home with the COVID-19 pandemic has given me time to seriously attack this writing project. I think of the effort as my gift to the SMI cause. It’s meaningful to me personally, too. The sixth anniversary of my son’s death is almost here. Pat died on July 23, 2014, in a hospital psych ward. I’m still grieving. I’ll always be grieving. There’s no way to stop grieving the loss of a child/adult child.
One mother said to me, “If my child were to die, I don’t think I could continue to advocate the way you continue to advocate. I wouldn’t have the strength.”
For me, it’s not about strength. It’s about, in my grieving, needing to do something. Needing to try, over and over again, to make sense of the tragedy cruelly visited upon my son.
When the Tomorrow Was Yesterday manuscript is ready to send out the door to the publisher, I’ll be back on the blog. In the meantime, please stay safe — wherever you are. COVID-19 is no joke. Take whatever precautions you can to protect yourselves and your families. Losing someone you love is life-altering. I don’t wish it on anyone.
Confidential to Pat: Akamai777, My Son. I love you forever, Mom