THE HIDING PLACE

Last summer was a heartfelt one. It's one that I don't like to remember, but is necessary that I do. I don't ever want to be in that "place" again. If I think it was bad for me, then I must remember how bad it was for my son and his children.

   My son had a psychotic breakdown last summer. It was a combination of things that precipitated it. He had been a stay a home Dad with 3 children to care for. His wife was the working bread winner. She wanted it that way. She worked a lot but when she was home, she was "unavailable."  I can't imagine the fights that incurred. I just know they were daily and awful.

   My son was taken to jail and that is where I thought he belonged. In hind sight he belonged in a hospital. His wife had moved out of his house and I had helped her get set up in her new life. I bought the beds for our Grandkids to sleep in and helped her out monetarialy.

   Something had to be done. I decided to go over to the house where my son lived and take some pictures. Perhaps if his doctors saw pictures of the house that would help them understand how sick my son is.

  I entered the house cautiously and the quietness of it was so strange. I was used to the sounds of little ones playing. It was difficult to take the pictures. Here I was standing in total chaos. There was no order, holes punched in walls, diry clothes, broken window, frames pulled loose from the doorways, no doors on the kids rooms, dogs running all over the house, everything was a mess. I now realize that it wasn't just my son, who created this mess.....his wife had her hand in it too. There are always two sides to a story.

  I went outside and the view wasn't any better there. The weeds were shoulder high and holes in the yard were so deep that you could see China. There is a wooden fence that enclosed the back yard, so the world couldn't view the mess. I was ready to leave, I had taken all of my pictures and wanted to get out of there. Suddenly, I looked down to see a lawn chair perched up against the crawl space under the house. I pulled the chair out and then saw two big sticks propping the door open. I had to bend way down to push the door in, so I could pull the sticks out. That is when I saw the toys. I saw the childrens toys under the house. This was their hiding place, under the house where nobody could find them. This is where they went when their parents would fight. This is where they went when they were scared. This is where they went when they needed a safe haven.  I cried all of that afternoon. I blamed my son for everything. How and why had all of this happened?

   When they took my son to jail, he had run down the street naked, yelling at his wife not to take the kids away. He had accused her of awful things and had pulled the mirror off of her car. He doesn't remember most of that day. He doesn't remember running down the street naked. When he got out of jail, he went into treatment. With the help of many doctors, anger managment, and medicine, his Bipolar is being managed. He has bipolar, with psychosis.The state has declared him disabled. This summer, his children are actually enjoying being with their Dad. We have always watched them since they were babies and continue to enjoy the grandkids.

   They are almost divorced now and that is a good thing. I used to blame everything on my son and now I know the truth. It was easy to blame him because he was the sick one and his wife played on our sympathies. Let me say, in caustiousness, that she has ended up getting everything she wanted. She wanted to be free, she wanted her own business, she wanted to be rid of all of us and she now has all of those things. She is free to be with her boyfriend. She is free to drink and drug. We sold her the business we had together, for a dollar. She folded the business last week. She is free at last and so are we.

   Our son is free also. He is getting so much better. He is handling the world with new resolve. We see him often now and it is good to see his progress. May God let it continue. May God watch over the grandkids when we can't and may God bless our son with a clear and hopeful mind. Mental illnes is HELL, for everybody. With Gods help we are becoming a family once again.   Signing off, Anne