I had a small family, comprising of my father, mother, sister and grandparents. Like everyone else, I have had my share of traumas. I am a patient of Manic Depression. Consequently I used to fall into acute depressions. People with mental illness require a very strong support system. I had one in my family.
Initially it was my father and mother who supported me. My sister was younger to me by five years. She was too small.
As I lay awake in the nights, afraid and helpless, my father would hold me till morning. It was not as if he was not tired. He had had a busy day at the office which left him exhausted. Still he never gave up on me. He would comfort and encourage me throughout my sickness. Without him I would have been lost.
My mother was also a staunch supporter. She did get irritated at times, but mostly she would be the one to take me to the doctor.
"You are one in a lac, I have such faith in you. Why are you behaving like this?" she would inquire bewildered. That was my first attack of depression, and no one knew what was going on. They could have treated me with contempt, calling me weak and a coward. But they never did. They stood by my side steadfastly. Consequently I would get out of my illness quickly.
Then my marriage broke up. By this time my sister had grown up. She was married to a Dutch and had a little girl. I had very little income of my own. Though I was working I was getting a miserable salary. My father had retired. My sister and my brother in law came to my rescue. I had left my marriage with my son, so they had to take on the responsibility of both. It was not easy but they did it.
My brother in law adopted my son so that he would never feel the lack of a father. They stuck by me during my depressions as well. To support our family, which had become rather large comprising of my parents, sister, brother in law, niece, my son and me, my brother in law had to leave the country. But he didn't hesitate. Neither did he question why he was responsible for me and my son.
When I went to rehab for a stint of three years, my sister and my brother in law put me in one of the best rooms, for which they paid a lot.
It is because of my support system that I am still alive. Depression makes you suicidal. Without my family I would be dead. Not everybody is as lucky as I am. Mental patients are a nuisance and can be thrown out by their families. Then they are left to languish in mental hospitals. On the contrary I was treated with respect and compassion. I have my family to thank for that.
Initially it was my father and mother who supported me. My sister was younger to me by five years. She was too small.
As I lay awake in the nights, afraid and helpless, my father would hold me till morning. It was not as if he was not tired. He had had a busy day at the office which left him exhausted. Still he never gave up on me. He would comfort and encourage me throughout my sickness. Without him I would have been lost.
My mother was also a staunch supporter. She did get irritated at times, but mostly she would be the one to take me to the doctor.
"You are one in a lac, I have such faith in you. Why are you behaving like this?" she would inquire bewildered. That was my first attack of depression, and no one knew what was going on. They could have treated me with contempt, calling me weak and a coward. But they never did. They stood by my side steadfastly. Consequently I would get out of my illness quickly.
Then my marriage broke up. By this time my sister had grown up. She was married to a Dutch and had a little girl. I had very little income of my own. Though I was working I was getting a miserable salary. My father had retired. My sister and my brother in law came to my rescue. I had left my marriage with my son, so they had to take on the responsibility of both. It was not easy but they did it.
My brother in law adopted my son so that he would never feel the lack of a father. They stuck by me during my depressions as well. To support our family, which had become rather large comprising of my parents, sister, brother in law, niece, my son and me, my brother in law had to leave the country. But he didn't hesitate. Neither did he question why he was responsible for me and my son.
When I went to rehab for a stint of three years, my sister and my brother in law put me in one of the best rooms, for which they paid a lot.
It is because of my support system that I am still alive. Depression makes you suicidal. Without my family I would be dead. Not everybody is as lucky as I am. Mental patients are a nuisance and can be thrown out by their families. Then they are left to languish in mental hospitals. On the contrary I was treated with respect and compassion. I have my family to thank for that.
No comments:
Post a Comment