Lies
In Silence
Lessons
about Bipolar and Co-Occurring Disorders Learned through Advocating
for Appropriate Treatment for My Family
SJ Hart
Issues Press - Smashwords Edition
Issues Press
An imprint of Idyll Arbor, Inc.
39129 264th Ave SE, Enumclaw, WA 98022
Editor: Thomas M. Blaschko
© 2006, 2009 SJ Hart.
ISBN 978-1-930-46110-9
International copyright protection is reserved under Universal Copyright Convention and bilateral copyright relations of the USA. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means — electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise — without the prior written permission of the publisher.
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Praise for Lies In Silence
Story after story in this firsthand accounting allows us to see the toll that one person’s mental illness takes on an entire family.
— Christine S. 47, TX. Music teacher, mother of a bipolar teen, with bipolar disorder in her extended family.
Lies In Silence is a well-written, page-turning book about a woman’s heart-wrenching journey through a life infiltrated by bipolar disorder. One can easily empathize with her suffering as bipolar disorder intimately afflicts her and her family. SJ Hart appropriately depicts this illness as one that lies dormant until it consumes one’s mind, body, and soul.
This book offers valuable medical information regarding some of the potential triggers of bipolar disorder, and emphasizes the strong genetic etiology of the illness. It illustrates the need for more medical research and better healthcare for the mentally ill and their families.
— Melissa B. 37. Family physician, mother of two, sister of a bipolar sibling.
In Memory of
Those who have committed suicide
Those who have committed homicide, their victims and loved ones
Those who have committed grave and life-altering acts toward themselves and others
Those who fought and lost to
Lies In Silence
With gratitude and deep humility…
To MS:
For generously sharing your creative vision and ideas in a candid manner;
For assisting me in the transformation of my words from mythical metaphors into an authentic reflection of mental illness;
For your interest, your kindness, and your depth of commitment to Lies In Silence.
For discussing and teaching the most important issue in presenting any story: the quality of credibility.
And always most importantly to me, for being a man who keeps his word with no personal agenda.
To FJK:
For the light you offered, respectfully challenging my darkness and my despair;
For your constant effort to understand my heart, my sorrow, and my personal path, while you walk your own;
For developing our relationship, though based on a parallel foundation of solid difference and poignant similarity;
For opening up to a virtual stranger through sharing a story that brought us together in language and loss;
And perhaps, dearest to me, for passing no judgment or wavering in your own faith in spite of the abyss of my own.
Contents
Incomprehensible Childhood Lessons
Suicide 101—The Taboo Conversation
So You Think You Know Mental Illness
Praise for Lies in Silence Continued
Acknowledgements
To my husband for his loyalty, his patience,
his support and his love.
To my children who suffer daily, with genetics
that have stolen their innocence, their dreams, and their lives.
To my mother-in-law for her endless assistance
in the day-to-day struggle of our new normal.
To my sister and AJ for never saying no.
To my few real friends who reached out to me,
while I was slipping away.
To my S.I.S. who lit the darkness of the storms
with scented candles and held my hand, while I lost
my mind, my children, and my hope.
To all of my book reviewers, with much gratitude,
for affirming Lies In Silence and its significant and
timely value, supporting the candid and honest version of
our personal saga.
To the millions of children, adolescents, adults,
and those who love them; may we someday
find relief from our suffering, and the long-awaited
understanding and compassion,
without the constant sting of stigma.
To my mother; for her years of strength and courage
to fight on in spite of tremendous obstacles and
lack of understanding.
And lastly to my father; rest in peace now, dad.
Prologue
Many years ago, at the age of twelve, I was shaken by the first of several unexpected, agonizing jolts in what was to become my surreal and unimaginable life. My personal life journey. Catastrophic jolts that remain difficult to grasp, that lack any reasonable explanation, and that I resist accepting as the reason for my existence.
Looking back now what lies in silence was obvious. There had been hundreds, perhaps thousands, of warning signs. The adults in my life were unable to accurately explain the magnitude of our circumstances themselves. In truth, they wanted more than anything to protect us in the misguided way adults sometimes do. And they were never given adequate information to understand or make some kind of sense of the overwhelming burdens we would experience with little to no resources.
Therefore, I lived for decades with a belief system and core identity, later discovering that it was distorted, skewed, and mistaken. A belief system based on a massive illusion, thus creating vulnerability and ignorance. It was a situation that produced a complete lack of awareness of the impending and inevitable catastrophes that would follow, leaving my family and me unprepared for what lay ahead.
This is our family’s story — one family’s incomprehensible journey.
Some locations and details have been changed to protect privacy and confidentiality. However, the genetics are 100% accurate. The pain is 100% accurate. The multi-generational suffering is 100% accurate, and the majority of the people discussed are real.
Our story is alarming and it is meant to sound warning bells! Loudly! For anyone and everyone who will listen. My family’s story is instructive for those who live with or work with the mentally ill. It may touch those who are mentally ill or those loving someone mentally ill. Our collective pain and suffering may sound eerily familiar and resonate for some. As it is in our daily reality, the obstacle we most share is stigma, as many of us typically suffer alone and in isolation. It is easy to recognize stigma from others as it cuts us to the core, but sometimes the stigma from within and the constant feeling we are broken is the largest obstacle to finding our voice and demanding changes.
We live in a world not known to those who exist outside the horror of brain disease. And many non-sufferers judge our world in very public and disrespectful ways.
It is our time to speak and educate so that others might comprehend or recognize hurtful and baseless opinions, for they do not move us any closer to a productive and normal life, let alone viable solutions. In fact, it is those words that often keep us from seeking help, as the stigma of others joined with the stigma in our own heads multiplies our struggle to come to terms with a life-altering and deeply isolating illness.
Our family may sound unique or atypical due to our level of loss and trauma, but we are certainly not special or rare. We are one family of millions. Our personal, painful, and unmistakable saga began over seventy years ago in another country, like so many families of that era.
Chapter One: Beginnings
My father was a kind and gentle man. Growing up with two brothers, his mother, his father, and many loving relatives in his extended family provided him with a wide circle of resources during his formative years. My father’s parents originally came from Poland. They were devout Christians and wished, like all immigrants coming to America, to create a happy and successful life for their family in the land of opportunity, the United States of America.
They arrived on a cramped ship during a steady rain — the entire family as well as old neighbors, business associates, and family acquaintances. The inclement weather went unnoticed as they fulfilled a dream not only for themselves, but also for future generations.
They all settled in Brooklyn, New York, initially. Then a large portion of the family, including my father’s parents, and some of their neighbors moved to Boston, while the others remained behind in Brooklyn.
My grandparents enrolled dad and his brothers in public school. They excelled academically, and seemed destined to become successful professionals and businessmen. They were smart, athletic, handsome, and popular, as well as kind and generous.
It was at this time that subtle signs of a transformation in my father’s temperament were emerging, accompanied by others feeling that something wasn’t right. It was unsettling, an obscure presence.
It was similar to a thunderstorm approaching from the distance. Though not yet visible to the eye, it brings a shift in the weather, the wind, and the sky. There is a tension in the air before actually seeing it. When the change finally occurs, it seems to happen in an instant, though many unnoticed things have already changed.
It was not clear to anyone what was happening to dad. They were unacquainted with the cunning nature of what lies in silence. The hidden storm crept into their presence — into dad’s world — lurking and undetected. It was concealed, invisible, and nameless, as it has been throughout its existence.
Towards the end of dad’s high school years, he experienced and exhibited an increase of frenetic energy — energy that was endless and often lacked direction or purpose. He swung between a “larger-than-life,” jovial persona with a charismatic personality and a combative, unreasonable young man. Dad talked most often in a pressured manner, became involved in more activities than usual, perhaps more than was really possible, and, at times, demonstrated severe irritability and explosive anger.
The unfamiliar force was now fully interfering with every part of his life and all of his relationships. What remained undetected was now embarking on a mission to possess him.
At the start of his senior year most of his friends remained amused and entertained by his outgoing personality and his offbeat sense of humor, but they lacked any sense of who he was, as what they saw was not an authentic reflection of the illness quietly awakening beneath the surface.
By the end of dad’s senior year, prior to graduation, most of his classmates feared him, as he had grown more unpredictable and had confusing outbursts not triggered by any specific event.
His lifestyle, which took years to establish, his academics, athletics, and social success all deteriorated. He was no longer welcome in those circles where he’d spent all of his childhood and adolescent years.
Dad was left isolated, lonely, and despondent. The timing of these unexplained life events could not have been worse. It caused him significant despair, and there were no explanations for his severe personality changes.
In an attempt to do something meaningful and honorable following high school, dad enlisted in the armed forces for four years. He served during a non-war era, and he felt proud contributing to the country that had provided so much opportunity for him and his family. But even this became a source of failure for him, as the original four years were cut to 18 months when he could not fulfill the required daily duties. Whatever he was struggling with followed him. His family was confused, and still no one understood the problem. Upon arriving home, dad started working full time, and shortly thereafter he met my mother.
My mother’s family had also come to America about the same time as my father’s. They hailed from Russia and England. They were strikingly different from my father’s family, as his family was loud, opinionated, and were often melodramatic. Mom’s family was perhaps not quite as intelligent, but what they lacked in IQ they made up for in grace, dignity, and character. Mom was a breath of fresh air, and conducted herself with quiet strength and elegance.
When my mother and father first met, it was a memorable meeting, as they immediately seemed to connect with one another on multiple levels. They liked the same music, the same activities, and they had similar goals. He didn’t want to tell her at the beginning, but dad felt that mom was the woman he’d been hoping for years he would meet — his soul mate
He had a kind heart, a giving spirit, and goal-oriented dreams. Mom was a dark beauty and very popular with the boys. She liked dad’s drive to succeed, as well as his handsome looks and kind-hearted spirit. She often referred to him as her “full package deal.” It brought a smile to his face and helped warm his young, weary, and heavy heart.
He began to feel loved and safe. Dad started having intimate feelings for mom, and it came at the right time, as he continued to feel abandoned by the only peer group he’d ever known in Boston. He was thankful that this kind-hearted and striking woman was helping him to heal his emotional scars, and he started looking forward to things getting more serious.
The chemistry between mom and dad led them to fall deeply in love. They each possessed an admirable sense of integrity and character, had extraordinary, sparkling dark brown eyes, and beautiful expressive faces, brightening every room they entered. They were the envy of many young people in the neighborhood, and quickly became popular and well liked in their circles. In addition to beauty, they also had a sense of loyalty and dedication to volunteer, and they spent many hours helping the community, the church, and others in need.
They enjoyed spending time together socializing, and they talked for hours into the night, whispering about their dreams and wishes for themselves and their future children.
On occasion dad took mom dancing, not something he enjoyed, but he knew it was one of mom’s favorite activities in addition to music and singing. Mom knew he took her dancing in spite of his awkward moves and discomfort, so she returned the gesture by watching professional sporting events, though she could not tell the difference between a basketball and a football. They were a perfect couple in many ways.
They eventually set a date for their wedding, both feeling excited about new beginnings and their vision of a loving family.
Both sides of their families worked together to provide a modest ceremony for them at the local church. The minister was a kind, unassuming man, and genuinely liked both mom and dad. He was fondly known in the community as “hazel eyes.” He had astonishing, breathtaking eyes that were deep pools of sparkling hazel. (In hushed tones, many talked of how distracting it was looking into his eyes, while in conversation about church matters.) He, as well as the community at large, immediately became part of my parent’s extended family.
Family, friends, and congregants participated in the joyful celebration of friendship, love, and kinship that was the highlight and focus of their wedding day.
This was their day to mark a couple’s love for one another. This was their day to commit to the future, “to love, honor, and cherish, in sickness and in health, through richer and poorer, until death do you part.” Words that would be challenged in the future, in ways no one could imagine at the time.
Mom and dad’s song then echoed through the church, played in a slow and lulling manner by the organist.
All of their invited guests watched as they mouthed the words to their song, staring at one another, as if no one else was present. Holding hands and gazing into each other’s eyes, oblivious to the tearful happiness of the others sharing in their moment. The community bursting with hope, joy, and the ritual of shared beginnings. This was a family milestone and a lifecycle event.
This was their new beginning, their moment of intimacy underscored by their song, “More.” The beginning lyrics described their feelings for each other in a way that all could understand as it marked the transformation of two separate individuals into one loving couple.
More than the greatest love the world has known,
This is the love I give to you alone.
It was a joyous day for everyone, as family and friends from all over came to celebrate the union of this beautiful, kind, and deserving couple.
However, as life has its ups and downs, it was not long before they were faced with their first difficult family event.
Soon after mom and dad married, dad’s father passed away. He had been very sick with cancer and he’d suffered excruciatingly for an entire year. The onset of his cancer was acute, the treatments were painful, and his death came only weeks after their wedding. Grandmom slid into a deep depression over this period and isolated herself from the rest of the family. Following grandpop’s death, her depression became worse, as a new normal fell upon her. She was now a widow.
Dad and his brothers mourned the loss of their father and discussed ways to care for their mother. Though grandmom was not old in years at 58 years old, she behaved like an elderly person in many ways. This added to their stress, as they all had young families and very busy lives. They agreed to share the responsibility for her daily welfare as much as possible, and look in on her regularly.