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Contributor

13th May 2016

What it’s like to love someone with a mental illness

For me, every day is a worry.

Her

Just over a year ago my parents separated, my father flew off to a new life in Spain and left behind a broken woman.

She is deteriorating faster than I could have ever imagined and I have to watch it happen – completely helpless.

Living with my mother has meant the last 10 months of my life have been riddled with stress and anxiety.

I wake up every morning not knowing if it will be a good or bad day for her. There are weeks where she will just lie on the couch, she will barely speak to me, she will refuse to eat or wash. She just lies there, numb and empty inside and I can see that she has already given up on life.

There is always sadness in her eyes. She doesn’t laugh anymore, she barely smiles. She doesn’t fight with me and we don’t do things together anymore. She doesn’t hug me when I’m sad or give me the advice that only she could. I’m going through the most difficult situation I’ve ever faced in my life and I can’t even talk to my own mother about it because she’s gone. She won’t let me help her, she won’t tell me how she feels or let me try to cheer her up. The reality is that I’m living with a person who has already died inside and there’s nothing I can do to bring her back to life.

For me, every day is a worry.

I can’t remember the last time I felt relaxed and stress-free. I have had chest pains, tension headaches, panic attacks, and hair loss because of how much stress I’m under. I’m 21.

When she’s sad I worry. When she’s happy I worry about when she will be sad again.

I worry about leaving her on her own, I worry about what goes on in her head and most of all I’m absolutely terrified that someday she will completely give up on life and that I will come home from work to find her.

I’ve been to the doctor countless times because I’ve thought there was something wrong with me, that I was having heart problems. I was convinced it couldn’t just be stress. I told my GP everything about my mother, she said although she noticed a vagueness in her too, there was nothing she could do, legally, unless my mother went to her by herself and asked for help. After a lot of convincing (weeks of talking and family interventions) she agreed to go with me.

The doctor decided to send her for cognitive tests with a specialist as she suspected Dementia and depression. It’s now 5 weeks later and we are still waiting for the specialist to contact us back. When I finally convinced my mother to go on anti-depressants she was told she had to wait until those tests results came back. I’m not blaming the doctors, our GP has been great but our government has let us down. Now they have decided to drastically cut an already ridiculously low budget.

If we can’t rely on our government in these situations, the onus falls on us to be aware of the reality.

Look out for your friends, I know people avoid talking about the situation because it’s ‘touchy’ or ‘personal’ or ‘uncomfortable’.

I know that if I didn’t have the rest of my family to talk to I don’t know where I would be.

If you’re willing to go out and take part in fundraising for this wonderful cause, or if you’re willing to share other people’s stories and write up statuses about the current mental health funding crisis at least be willing to deal with what is right in front of you.

Of course spreading awareness is great and absolutely vital but you must watch out for your loved ones too, friends, family even an acquaintance because trust me you really never know what anyone else is going through.

It’s not just the person suffering who suffers.

Stephanie