I heard a story once about a man who had gone to the grocery store and when he was walking out of those double doors pushing his cart, he heard a familiar voice behind him call out his name “Hey Chet!” The man turned around only to find his old friend from working years at an automotive plant. As they stood and talked for a few minutes catching up on a few years of what has been happening in their lives Chet had to make a quick decision. Should he, could he tell his friend what had happened to his son Daniel this past year? Chet quickly ran through each and every time he was with his friend and if he was trustworthy or even had the ability to understand. It took a few minutes. When his friend told him about his wife beating cancer Chet made his decision to share.

You see, Chet was holding on to a pain so deep he himself had a hard time expressing it. Not only did Chet feel the emotional pain of losing his son but how it had happened had left shame and hurt into his very core. He and his wife never spoke of Daniel as they danced around the subject while in conversation because the reality of it was too harsh. Obviously, their marriage had turned into a numb array of underlying anguish.

Chet looked his friend in the eye and said “My son Daniel…he…passed away this past year, October, in fact.” His friend stopped in his tracks. Seeing the pain in his friends eyes, he carefully told him how sorry he was and gave him a handshake with a half of a hug, as men do. Chet was relieved that his friend did not ask how Daniel had died. After saying a quick “good-bye” the two old friends parted their ways. Chet went to his car and put the groceries into his truck, got into his car and turned the key…when he did so, all of the pent up emotion of the past year which had started as a painful lump in his throat and burst into an uncontrollable sob. It was the first time he allowed himself to physically, emotionally and openly grieve. Chet drove to a secluded area and let it all out. His son had committed suicide and Chet wanted some answers.

When Chet finally made it home his wife, Sue, saw that he was physically shaken. Chet looked at his wife and without a second through he grabbed onto her and wept in her arms. “I miss him, I miss him, why did it he it?” It was the beginning of a long road to healing for the couple but it was a lifesaver to Chet as he may have become very ill in some part of his body if he hadn’t finally let out the emotion of losing his son to suicide.

Suicide has become epidemic. There are many Chet’s walking around who need to vent their feelings. There are support groups out there for loved ones who have been “left behind” so to speak and try to make heads or tails out of what had happened. If you or your family are feeling the affects of a loved ones suicide remember some important notes: He or she were in tunnel vision during the time they were suicidal. This means that he or she could not look to the right or left to see how it may affect the family because there was a mental block in their minds and they could see no other way out at the time. Remember also, you are not to blame. When someone decides to commit the act of suicide it was and is their choice and nobody elses. You may never understand or have an answer to your “why?” but God knows your heart and the Bible says that God is close to the broken hearted. Many people blame God for what has happened during their time of anger at injustice. The truth is that God loves you and He can carry you through even the worst storm in life, including a loved one’s suicide. I will never even pretend to be able to help you with your emotional journey in a case such as this; but, I know the God who can.

People are afraid to ask questions about mental illness because it is a “taboo” subject.  It is easier for them to just say “Wow! That person is REALLY crazy!” The media portrays the people who murder others as being psychotic or lunatic-ish. The truth is most of them are CRIMINALLY insane or sociopaths. The average mentally ill person would be much more apt to hurt themselves than to hurt others. Let me give you a few examples. But wait a minute, first off the definition for psychosis is basically “Loss of contact with reality”. However, every one on the earth have their own reality of how they see the world around them. When we agree with what is seen by our own eyes then we are considered “normal”. A hallucination is something that can occur that comes from any of our five sense: sight (most common), hearing (second most common), smelling, tasting and/or touching. A “delusion” is a thought that is out of reality. Strangely enough, a psychotic person may or may not share out loud what their delusional thoughts are. In most instances a person can not remember what they thought or hallucinated about until days, weeks and even months after the episode of being psychotic. The only explanation I have for that is it is like having a different brain for a time.

When I was psychotic I believed that everything that was happening around me had something to do with ME! When a friend lost their three year old to a brain tumor, I believed it was my fault! When the television was on I listened and believed that the message that it was portraying was talking specifically to me! One night I was watching a rerun of Sanford and Son and I thought “surely this comedy won’t talk to me.” BUT ALAS Fred Sanford himself began sending me messages. It was scary!!!

I can honestly say that I never heard voices in my head but the negative thoughts could become very loud. Those thoughts were painful. Interesting, a painful thought. Seriously? Yes! Fantasy. I would sit for hours on end planning my own funeral, obsessing over the details. The brown wooded casket, the blue dress, the red lipstick, the empty shell of my young body. Thinking about it actually helped me get through the “painful thoughts” because, to me, it was the only way out! Then I would get an eye-opener back to reality. How? Well, one time my brother-in-law told me he would NOT come to my funeral if I committed suicide. He told me he would be mad at me because of how much my family were there to help me. What? Keith wouldn’t be there? Hummm, maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all. (this shows you how important it is to TALK about suicide!)

The mind is a very interesting and important part of our being. When your mind “leaves town” so to speak it can cause all sorts of havoc. I never thought of hurting anyone else physically, but I know my family and friends were hurting when they saw me hurting. Would it hurt you to see your brother or sister tied down in leather straps to a hospital gurney begging you to untie them? Yes, it hurts them…and I am sorry that they had to go through it but what would I have done without them? The love shined through the delusions. The “I care about you.” words when I didn’t care about myself meant the world to me.

I honestly believe that if God had not put me into my family of origin I would not be here today. Why? Because ALL of them at one point or another would make me promise them I wouldn’t commit suicide. “Promise me!” I didn’t want to break a promise, but it was one whale of a battle AND I certainly did try, but by the grace of God I did not succeed and I can thank my family, my friends and the good Lord for that.

Currently, I am completely set free from any and all thoughts of harming myself or being psychotic. I had over a decade of normalcy…then a major medication adjustment in 2006. I got back on track in 2007 and, praise God have had normalcy ever since. Normal. People question the word, but I know what it means and I LOVE IT! Thank you, Jesus! Thank you to my family of origin and my friends who stuck by me!!! “I am alive and well and your spirit is within me.” (song) God Bless all who read this!!!

This is a true story that happened on November 16, 2009

I woke up that Monday morning with a feeling of urgency. I needed to change my schedule as I was supposed to go to Help Hotline Crisis Center, Inc., my employer, that day. As I said my prayers I just knew that the Lord was letting me know explicitly to do something else instead of going to work. It seemed really strange, but I felt I needed to obey. I called work and to my surprise Duane Piccirilli, the CEO answered. I could not tell him what my spirit was telling me so I told him that I was planning to speak at the Family-To-Family class at the Jewish Community Center that evening and I would make up my work for Monday later that week. Duane never usually answers the phone, but since I spoke to him directly, I knew it was safe to change my work days as he himself okayed it. It was just another confirmation that I was doing the right thing.

Gary and I decided to go Christmas shopping a little later in the day stopping first at Ollies, the then new bargain store located at the Eastwood Mall. As I walked down the sheet aisle I suddenly noticed a woman lying on the ground in the aisle. After attending the GriefShare the night before and hearing about a woman whose husband died at Macy’s I immediately thought she was dead. I walked over to her and saw that her eyes were rolled out of her head and she was moving involuntary a little bit. So I called 911 as Gary went and got 2 employees from the store to come down to the aisle where the woman was laying. In the meantime, I held out my hand and I prayed over her with the two employees putting a pillow under her head and taking off her glasses.

I felt an extreme amount of compassion and love as I got on the floor and stayed with this woman. Suddenly she began flailing; her entire body was shaking as though an electric shock had hit her like a lightening bolt. I am a person who fears medical problems and my usual reaction would have been to run from the situation. Instead, I felt a controlled peace flow through me and I stayed on the ground with the woman. What seemed like a long time was probably just a matter of 60 seconds when, looking at her upside down she began focusing her eyes on me. I noticed that she kept staring at me with a concentrated look on her face. Out of nowhere she whispered my name. Now I was freaking out that she knew me. It was a huge surprise to me. I asked her what her name was and she said “Sharon” “Sharon Maybee”. I didn’t recognize her because she had gained an enormous about of weight and was missing some front teeth which often happens to those of us taking psychotropic medications.

At that moment, I recognized her sparkling blue eyes with the curly eye lashes that brought back my memory of my old friend. Sharon had been in my support group years ago and the last time I had seen her was at North-Mar church about 2 years prior. I had been singing in the choir and saw her out there sitting on a pew. My husband must have not gone to church that day as I was free to sit with Sharon. It was nice to see her again just as it was that Monday at Ollies.

The ambulance came and the paramedics seemed very distant when they found out who it was they were called for. Apparently, Sharon had been having seizures and had had a few in Niles and the paramedics said that she always denied going to the hospital. One of the paramedics and I helped Sharon get back up….and as she stood up she got her composure and made a joke about being the “floor inspector” at Ollies. Sharon and I spoke together for a while; I told her about the WRAP (Wellness Recovery Action Plan) a mental health class I was teaching on Tuesdays and she said she would be there. She also said that she’d like to come back to North-Mar Church. As we spoke, my sweet husband walked through the store allowing me to talk to Sharon. Sharon and I talked about the Lord as she told me that she had just gotten out of the hospital and showed me how they had made a mistake on her neck. We stood in line together and I hugged her several times as she paid for her bird seed because she said she owned a bird. I felt such a strong love for her as though she was my sister and I let her know that. The last hug I gave her was at about 2:00 in the afternoon.

I said “good-bye” to Sharon Maybee. Well, she didn’t show up Tuesday night and I hoped she was doing okay. On Wednesday, November 18, 2009, her obituary was in the local paper. Sharon had passed away Monday night, just hours after I gave her that hug. She was only 37 years old.

I drove out to Hartford for her calling hours and spoke to her parents who were very distraught, of course. Someone from the family explained to me that she had a problem with her heart and the doctors couldn’t identify it. They said they found the bird seed in her car.

My learning experience: Listen to the Holy Spirit and do exactly what HE wants me to do. I also learned that death is not scary, no, as long as you are a believer. IT is just one step up, spirit man, and right into the arms of heaven.

That day at Ollies changed my life. It is hard for me to explain but I know that God had me there with Sharon for a purpose although I will never truly understand why. All I know is that I so look forward to seeing her again when my time on earth is through. I will give her a big hug and say “Thank you, Sharon!”

Ironic: Sharon said a swear word while we were talking. She quickly put her hand to her mouth and said with a twinkle in her eye “Whoops, I shouldn’t swear!”

She opened her eyes AGAIN that very day but focused in on our Lord Jesus Christ – forgiven of all and loved for eternity. The swear word? I have no recollection of what word she said and I’m sure Jesus doesn’t either!

I love the French language! In high school I took French for four years and two years in college. We received new names in the classroom. The French name for Nancy is Nanette. During my years of mental anguish, I used to tell people that my name was Nanette and then go into a little speal of speaking in French just for fun. When I first wrote my book, it was about a woman named Nanette. All that changed when I felt the need to portray my character from the perspective of the writer which, of course, was “moi”. My editor, God Bless her, had the daunting task of changing every me, my, she, her, us, we etc. into the first person, I. Wow. Thank God for Microsoft Word 2010 where word replacement is a snap!
There was something else about the French language that transformed my life when I was at an all-time low…..okay, there were MANY all-time lows over the years but this was my second one. I was attending Kent State University right out of high school. That is when I walked into a classroom and met a woman who undoubtedly changed the course of my life. Her name was Mademoiselle Evans and she was my French professor. She was very pretty, always dressed beautifully and was passionate in her work. I adored her. Her tests were hard but that was part of the challenge! I remember learning the words to “The Answer is Blowing in the Wind” and singing it in front of the class in French. It was beautiful. I wish I could write it for you but too many years have passed by so….when I meet up with Mlle. Evans again, I will let you know how it goes. Anyway, I was a manic freshman at Kent State. Loud. Boisterous. Obnoxious. You get it? I was HIGH every minute of every day without the use of drugs. Everything revolved around me. People could tell me off (which happened often) and it wouldn’t phase me in the least. I’d just laugh! LAUGH LOUD like everything else I did. But with the HIGHS come the LOWS and in a matter of months I was there. In a deep dark negative mindset that I could not get out of. I suddenly was unable to go to classes. I suddenly was unable to do much of anything. I tried desperately to make it to my French class. One day I walked in and it was time for a test. I sat silently looking at the blank paper in front of me and looked up at Mlle. Evans and with a quick glance she saw my pain. I know that she wondered what was happening and after class while she and I rode an elevator together going down a few flights I told her I wanted to end my life.

I was so scared. I was SO scared that I was going to complete suicide that I knew I could not go back to my dorm room so I asked Mlle. Evans to do the unthinkable…..I asked her if she could take me home to her house with her husband and two small children and spend the night so I could be safe. She thought for a few seconds and then answered “yes”. She saved my life. For it was not long afterwards that she called my Mother and said “If you don’t come get your daughter, you will not have a daughter.” Thus, one of my deeply anguished songs was birthed……with the chorus simply written from God’s perspective “No, No Nanette…….I’m not ready for you yet…..”

A lot of people have asked “What is it like in a mental hospital?” I think……”Gee, isn’t that something everyone knows?” HA! Everyone who I know knows!!! Yeah, well a big LOL to that. The truth is I really do know a lot of people who DO. Those who HAVE stayed in a mental hospital. Served time, one could say. Time. Not always fun but certainly not boring. It used to be that some would actually call it a vacation as insurance was plentiful back in the day and we were treated with respect and care. The finest hospital I stayed in was located in Providence, RI. It was (and still is) called Butler Hospital on beautiful Blackstone Blvd. Even the hospital beds were more comfortable, it seemed. I remember going out for long walks in a group on the beautiful grounds and playing volleyball with some interesting people. Normally, a person thinks of a good volleyball player as someone who is tall and lanky. In a mental hospital, the best volleyball player is the one with the least amount of side effects from psychotropic drugs that can hit the ball over the net without drooling, shaking or falling down. And then, of course, our coach. A mental hospital Activity Director they called him. Enthusiastically, he yells “good job” no matter what anyone does. A woman ran into me trying to hit the ball and he yelled “Good job!”(A paranoid person could have taken THAT wrong!) One night it was time for us to line up like cattle and take the flight of steps down to the cafeteria. The food was always good at Butler. I glanced up at the notice on the door that tells us what is for dinner. It said “Lobster”. Seriously? When I got closer I stood in amazement as each person was given their own full sized lobster on a plate with a container dripping with butter. I can still see myself sitting there staring at mine. The little bug-eyes were staring back at me. All these Rhode Islanders were used to eating lobster but I wasn’t. I watched the others break open the shell and I followed suit. The only thing I had remembered about lobsters as a kid was while on vacation camping in Bar Harbor, Maine, my mother putting the live lobsters in a big pot of boiling water and listening to them SCREAM. When each came out of the pot they had turned red. I thought about all the lobsters that must have screamed as I pulled the thing apart and ate little chunks at a time. All I can say is that I thank God that I am sane today…….and don’t need Butler Hospital or any hospital. (for TODAY!) I give God all the praise, glory and honor that He deserves because I KNOW that I KNOW that I KNOW He is responsible for keeping me sane….and I am thankful that I had the chance to stay in “the hospital that served lobster” when I was ill.

“If we are out of our mind, it is for the sake of God; if we are in our right mind, it is for you.” 2 Corinthians 5:13 Paul wrote this after he, himself, was questioned about his sanity, he, like me, was once bound in the chains of darkness and when he, like me, found the way, the truth, and the light OUT of the darkness, he, like me, wants to shout it from the rooftops to share the GOOD NEWS!

Wow! Today I watched the national news for the first time in well, like months…. Of all times! The horrendous flooding in Colorado – some places got “one year’s worth of rain all in one day!), the fire that burned down the brand new boardwalk in Jersey that was just rebuilt after hurricane Sandy. Nicole Kidman got hit by a bicycle? (Oh!) What a day. Interestingly enough today is Friday the 13th. `Are you superstitious?` It is hard to believe that our country has been so devastated from the east to the west all in one day. I missed the part about Seria…..I guess I’d rather not know. In order to have peace of mind, I choose not to focus on what is happening in this world because I, well, we ALL know that the news is not good. I’m sure there are a lot of people who would disagree and think I was living in my own little bubble. That’s okay, in my bubble I will stay……to remain sane! Something that I always found interesting is that a person can suffer horribly with mental illness and fall into deep depression and it has absolutely nothing to do with outside events! That is why people will ask “Why are you depressed?” I have heard that question and I never had an answer!!! I did not have triggers; I had cycles. The cycles are caused by a chemical imbalance in the brain. But to have triggers that are this monumental…. the ones whose houses are ruined in Colorado, they have a reason to be depressed! But the hardest part about the flooding is the 80+ people who are missing. Families searching for their families. Emotional pain and anguish, anxiety and concern. That is torture too. The other thought is for the animals. Hard to bear the thought of searching for a sister or brother and a beloved dog too. I am praying for all the hurting people in our nation tonight. God Bless America!!! And…God Bless YOU!

I woke up this morning with a SONG in my heart. It was an original by The Stevens Family. I was then on a mission to find their lastest CD “Can’t Thank You Enough”. My dear husband, the “organizer” had put all the CD’s neatly away….how would I ever find it? I went to their website in search of just listening to that one song….but, oh, I just HAD to find the CD…..then back upstairs I marched and, well, there it was! The Stevens Family CD! Ohhhhhh, NO, it was their Christmas CD. (too early for that!) I looked in a little CD holder that was near the two huge stacks of CD’s I had already searched through and there it was WOW! “Thank you, Lord.” I listened to the song and decided to write this blog. A blog about Jesus pulling us “out of the pit!” “I was in a pit, a really deep pit…” Tami sings. Oh yes! Have we not all been in a pit? Thank God that “Jesus Brought Me Out” which is the name of the song. (If you are not familiar with the beautiful blend of three voices go to their website and ENJOY!)

So, I got to thinking about the word “PIT”….I mean….really thinking….. doing a bit of RESEARCH even. HUMMMMMM This is VERY deep, folks, literally and figuratively, just a **warning**. Yes, let’s talk about this “pit”. Depression? Yes, of course, but I would like to talk about another type of pit. The pit kind where thousands upon thousands of people who suffered from mental illness were physically thrown into years ago. Have you ever seen the old black and white movie called “The Snake Pit”? It is a four star movie made many moons ago about a woman who was thrown into such a pit filled with hundreds of others – that’s the kind of pit that I am talking about now. A “pit” filled with the CrAZys, the luNaTIcS, the OuTcaStS of SOCIETY! During the 16th century, asylums were established more or less to house the mentally ill who were abandoned by family. They were cruel dark places run by untrained individuals who treated them like animals, many of them were cuffed and had iron collars that gave only enough movement to feed themselves and, because of the short chains they had to sleep upright. The most famous institution was called Bedlam located in London, England where patients were treated terribly and the violent ones were put on display like side show freaks for the price of a penny. Unfortunately, other countries followed the same idea. **I KNOW THIS IS DISTURBING BUT IT REALLY HAPPENED!** That is how it used to be. That was then and this is now. Now through many decades of reform, people who are mentally ill are treated well if they need to be hospitalized. We have Therapy! Medications that work! Support Groups! Wellness plans! Education! Peer-to-Peer Groups! And yes! Even a few psychiatrists who have their own mental illnesses! (not a joke). Thank God, things have changed.

There still is a pit called depression. I have suffered with it. Sometimes up to six months at a time…. But I was treated with kindness and compassion. And when I came to a place where I FOUND THE ANSWER TO THE PAIN I WAS IN – through no one else but Jesus Christ himself – It was then that I learned how to be set free from it! That is why the song that The Stevens Family wrote is so near and dear to my heart….because what happened to me was just that….”Jesus Brought Me Out” and HE can do the SAME FOR YOU!

Jesus said “Behold, I stand at the door and knock; if anyone hears and listens to and heeds My voice and opens the door, I will come in to him and will eat with him, and he (will eat) with Me.” Rev. 3:20 Amplified Bible

Has anyone ever heard of Max Lucado? If so, I’m sure you are aware of his unique style of writing. I would like to share something that he wrote back in 2003, that is how long I have held on to it! I have always compared<this short composition to the stigma of mental illness<. I do believe that people are more understanding than they were in years past as more and more people keep coming out of the closet with their mental conditions. What really hits home is the initial diagnosis; usually at a young age. Knowing, as Max writes: life would never be the same.