My parents argued a lot when I was a kid. It was almost always about money -- which is, I suspect, the case with many families facing insurmountable financial problems and uncertain futures. But arguments aside, I have very few memories of my mother and father really fighting. Raised voices, doors slamming and dramatic declarations spat out in the heat of the moment were pretty rare in our home. In fact, I only remember that happening once. But the memory is burnt on my brain.
I didn’t see the fight, only heard it from the bed sheet cocoon I’d made in my bedroom at the bottom of the stairs. They were screaming at each other. What they said either my ten-year-old brain didn’t understand, or seemed much less important than what happened after. The yelling escalated as someone stormed down the stairs and out the door. I held my breath as I listened to our silver Chevy roar off down the road. It did not come back for a very long time.
When I thought it was safe, I left my bedroom to find my mother. But I found my father instead, angry, crying and pacing the living room, oblivious to my presence. I retreated, shocked and terrified. For whatever reason, that it was my mother (and not my hot tempered father) who’d left us, knocked my small world off its foundation. I was broken.
I cried until I slept. And when I slept I dreamed. The dream was simple and absolutely terrifying. Wooden barrels tumbled toward me, falling out of a black sky, and helpless, I was unable move out of the way. I woke disoriented and feverish and cried until I was delirious.
I’ve had that dream a dozen times since, when something is off kilter, when my world is not right and my foundation is shaken. But one thing I’ve found comforting about growing up is that foundations tend to shift. And it has been years since the barrels have tumbled out of a black sky.
But just this morning, I was forced to steady myself against the new and terrifying reality of my father’s mental illness. I swallowed “schizophrenia” with a cup of water from the office pantry and tried very hard to remember that my world is no longer built on the stability of my parents or the constancy of home life. My foundation is me.
Regardless, I feel an old, familiar helpless feeling. And I can’t help but wonder about my newer foundation…if I have been built solid enough not to be broken. And I wonder what my dreams will be like tonight.
i'm sorry, fish. really.
Posted by: emily at February 10, 2005 01:28 PMsweet dreams tonight, Fish. your foundation is a solid one.
Posted by: red at February 10, 2005 01:30 PMBe brave, fish, and keep putting one foot in front of the other.
Posted by: The Author f/k/a (the other) Fish at February 10, 2005 01:51 PMYou are a strong person and will be able to stand firm on your foundation. And remember you are not alone - many of us have family members with mental illnesses (my grandmother had schizophrenia and another very close family member has OCD). It is very difficult at times to understand and deal with the confusion and heartache, but it is important to give support and love, which I'm sure you have in abundance.
Posted by: pismire at February 10, 2005 02:00 PMwell just be thankful that we live in a time when there are many medications and ways to deal with an illness such as schizophrenia so that you can still lead a normal life, one where most people would never even be able to tell you have a disease...i'm sure everythings gonna be fine and it's at times like these that you realize just how strong you can be...while you may not have the best of dreams tonight, don't for a second think that your 'foundation' as you call it is not stong enough to cope with this...you'll be amazed at just how strong it may be
hope all goes well
Posted by: ak at February 10, 2005 02:25 PMyou should call me. i have something to tell you and for some reason your number isnt in my phone. it doesnt matter what time, but i really have to talk to you about it.
Posted by: joyce-face at February 10, 2005 02:29 PM"...and tried very hard to remember that my world is no longer built on the stability of my parents or the constancy of home life. My foundation is me."
I just received that same message last week. Thank you for articulating it. As much as I need them, it's scary to think my parents are no longer my foundation of stability and security.
Posted by: Milly at February 10, 2005 03:02 PMI was watching "Home for the Holidays" yesterday and at one point near the end, the main character is saying goodbye to her parents at the airport. As they watch her walk away, the father says "We made her!" and there is wonder and love in his voice. But then the camera focuses on the daughter as she walks, alone, further and further down the corridor. It seemed to me a visual representation of what you're talking about here.
Posted by: Michael R at February 10, 2005 03:13 PMYou are such a smart, strong woman. I am certain that you will get through this difficult time. There are moments in everyones lives where everything seems to spiral out of control.It is times like this where you find out how much strength you really do possess,not only for yourself but especially for the ones you love. I will keep your family in my thoughts.
Posted by: Jasika at February 10, 2005 03:23 PMI used to get dreams like that too, and when I finally got to play Donkey Kong, I kicked ass.
Posted by: Gopi at February 10, 2005 03:34 PMStumbled upon your blog today and wanted to say I enjoyed it. As for this post, no advice; hang in.
At this late date in my life I stumbled across Carl Jung as well, read just one book, (just enough to make me dangerous!) so now I'm curious about the dream as well.
Posted by: Michael at February 10, 2005 03:34 PMThis hits home enormous amounts to me....
I know exactly what you feel like and I know how you are scared shitless...
Hang in there. That's all the advice I have. Just hang in there.
Posted by: Island Girl at February 10, 2005 03:36 PMMy mental fossil is of my father throwing a full lasagna warm from our kitchen table onto the white wall of our kithchen. I remember the phone mounted on this wall being caked in lasagna, I remember my mother silently wiping up as my father had stormed out in our gold Le Baron. As with you I have no recollection of the words exchanged before the lasagna took flight but your story brought out this pivotal thought for me just now. My father also has a mental and physical issues as well (hight blood pressure diagnosed, social anxiety, panic attacks.....not diagnosed). We are now strong and live lives on our own foundations, somtimes it is hard to remember that our parents ar simply a guy and a girl, boyriend and girlfriend who stayed together.
Posted by: Heather B at February 10, 2005 03:36 PMThis too shall pass...
Posted by: sally at February 10, 2005 03:57 PMHi Fish,
I have to correct Sally to say that this kind of thing doesn't pass so much as become something one learns to incorporate into one's being. My mother was diagnosed with bi-polar disorder (f/k/a manic-depression) about four years ago, so I know from whence I speak. It becomes part of the fabric, but in a way that's like the section of the rug with a stain on it that you try to cover with furniture. You always know it's there, even if the company cannot see it. It is hard and scary but based on reading your backstory, I know family-related drama is nothing new to you. In short: I sympathize and I know a kickass shrink...
My prayers are with you, and your family. And I don't want to give advice...and from the sounds of it, your still in shock. Maybe you could just ignore this comment, and read it later. Find out as much as you can about this disease. Know what it is you and your family will be going thru. Knowing and understanding this disease, will empower you to be able to deal with it. And this will give you strength. Lean on your friends, and seek out their emotional support. My prayers will be with you Fish.
Posted by: 3rd Times a Charm ( 3T ) at February 10, 2005 04:41 PMA really good resource for more information, support:
http://www.nami.org/
The National Alliance for the Mentally Ill.
It's particularly helpful for family members.
Posted by: Pascale Soleil at February 10, 2005 04:57 PMI'm not a normal commenter on your journal but I do read you everyday, I hope you don't mind the intrustion :-)
This brought back a lot of memories of finding out my grandmother had the same thing. It's scary but I got through it. I still deal with it every single day. It's tough but God bless you.
Oh boy. That sort of news has to knock you for six. Hope you're doing OK.
Posted by: Dani at February 10, 2005 06:39 PM:( I'm really sorry to hear that.
Posted by: Harmony at February 11, 2005 04:41 AMThat's very sad news, but there are some excellent medications out there that really, really help you to function well. I know, because I take one of them. They really make a difference. You hang in there!
Posted by: Irene at February 11, 2005 07:34 AMMy father is a diagnosed Schizophrenic and my best friend is in the hospital for this same reason right now. Although my father is much, much better, I'm not so sure about my friend. There really isn't anything to say, but you're not alone.
Posted by: Lisa at February 11, 2005 08:49 AMFish,
I can honestly say that I understand. For me, it was a disposable boyfriend rather than someone with whom I have a filial connection. I know the pain is deep, the questions endless. From what I read on your blog, though, you are a very intelligent and resilient person. This will not pass. This, for the remainder of your life, will remain. You can and will, however, find the strength inside to embrace your father, support your family and be the foundation you need to gallantly live within and sometimes confront the outside world. Without the intent to trivialize your situation, I highly recommend that you pull out your Gloria Gaynor Greatest Hits CD and play "I Will Survive", repeatedly! If you don't have Gloria, you must buy her. Every fish needs Gloria just as much as we need our bicycles: if not for comfort, for entertainment! (Some smart fish, 200?)
Take care!
Posted by: Aeriale at February 11, 2005 03:47 PMDear Fish,
My thoughts are with you and your parents.
And I want to thank you for putting into words why the divorce of my parents after a marriage of very nearly 35 years almost knocked me of my feet, even though I've lived on my own for years and years.
It's all there in this line:
"...and tried very hard to remember that my world is no longer built on the stability of my parents or the constancy of home life."
Take care,
Doris
"If you don't have Gloria, you must buy her. Every fish needs Gloria just as much as we need our bicycles: if not for comfort, for entertainment!"
Couldn't have said it better.
We are lifting you up right now, fish.
Posted by: b at February 14, 2005 08:49 PM