Hello Friends

I am a person in a unique situation, though I know there are others like me who exist, I have yet to meet them. I grew up in a nice middle class family in the suburbs. Never wanted for anything. I came from a "good" family AND my biological father was a paranoid schizophrenic. Very rarely do people associate the white picket fence suburbia with one of the most feared mental illnesses. However, that was my reality. I was raised by my mother and wonderful step dad, who eventually adopted me. My father was always in my life, but it was dependent on his current mental state. I ached for him my entire life. My father had his first psychotic break when I was about one year old. I never knew him before he became sick. This is a grieving process by which I am still moving through despite his recent physical passing. So, I am left to grieve the man before schizophrenia and the man after schizophrenia. The man I never met was a marathon runner, boxer, college student, brilliant writer, doting father and fun friend. The father I knew was loving, but paranoid. Strong, but vulnerable. Smart, but confused. Years of psychotic breaks, psychiatric hospitals, self medicating and psychotropic drugs had left him a shell of the man he once was. To manage his illness and stay sober he needed to be devoid of emotion. This is not to say he didn't feel anything, but it was a dangerous tightrope for him to walk if he were ever to get too happy or too sad. When you cease to be able to experience the extremes of emotion, it takes from you the experience of life. My father's illness had and continues to have a huge impact on my life. Society taught me that I should be ashamed of my father and his illness. It should be kept a secret and certainly didn't fall in the category of "nice" dinner conversation. I grew up believing this was something I shouldn't talk about and certainly shouldn't be proud of. The stigma that my father felt, that I felt all of my life is something I seek to break. As I entered adulthood I stopped feeling ashamed and started feeling proud of who my father was and what he was able to navigate under the circumstances. He had over 20 years of sobriety, an incredibly hard thing for any alcoholic to do, let alone a schizophrenic alcoholic. Something to be revered and celebrated. He lived independently with minimal hospitalizations. When he did go into the hospital it was typically because he recognized the slippage and admitted himself. Commendable. He learned to live on his poverty SSDI wage of $1100 per month without getting into major financial difficulty or utilizing other public benefits. Praiseworthy. He maintained grip on his sanity each and every day despite the persistent delusions that medication could not quiet. Laudable. This lens through which I see my father, is not the same lens utilized for the majority of Americans. They see weakness. If you cannot see a disorder in our society than it must not exist. If you can't prove it with a blood test, then it must not exist. However, we have a large body of scientific evidence that validates major mental illnesses such as schizophrenia or bipolar disorder. It is well known by the medical community that these are organic brain disorders with a strong genetic component. It is time to stop blaming people who have a mental illness for their disorder. There are children and families suffering in isolation and sadness because they know if they come into the light there will be judgement and blame. I want to tell my story, so people know they are not alone. It is not a character flaw to have a mental illness, just as it isn't a defect to be the child or family member of someone with a mental health diagnosis. Our system is broken and people are hurting.