Darkside Of The Mood
After 70 days there's no sign that James has a clue his life is heading nowhere. He still holds on to his Yale-NYC-politics delusion and is working on his banking issues in hope of setting up his financial plan. After several trips to the bank he's no closer today than he was two months ago.
It doesn't matter. There are no accounts enabling customers with no income, and little money, to write million dollar checks to themselves. James can't see this through his schizoid cloud. He has an answer for every query, a reason for not having the ability to follow his delusion, or an excuse. Some days, it's depressing to see my son, and his potential, wasting away in front of a television, every waking hour.
Ticking away the moments that make up a dull day
You fritter and waste the hours in an offhand way.
Kicking around on a piece of ground in your home town
Waiting for someone or something to show you the way.
His anti-social withdrawal makes it impossible to show him the way. Life at home is uncomfortable. Every meal is eaten in silence. When we attempt to engage him in conversation his answers are one short sentence with no continuation. Dining out is intolerable. I don't know why I ask him to go out for breakfast, or dinner, other than to make sure he's properly fed. After so many snubs, you stop trying, even though the silence is awkward.
Hello?
Is there anybody in there?
Just nod if you can hear me.
Is there anyone at home?
Come on, now,
I hear you're feeling down.
Well I can ease your pain
Get you on your feet again.
We cross paths many times without acknowledgement. There's no one home, nobody in there. No matter how hard I try, there's no helping my son. I can't get him on his feet again if he can't see that he's down.
There's a dark side to my position, opinion, and attitude toward my son. There's no questioning my love, but I often question my resolve. Some days, I wish he weren't here. I cherish my privacy. Life at home is not the same. I thought I could help him see the light, find a path to treatment, and I will do whatever I can to the end, but I'm beginning to see the futility of my efforts. James' life is ticking by. How many years will pass?
Tired of lying in the sunshine staying home to watch the rain.
You are young and life is long and there is time to kill today.
And then one day you find ten years have got behind you.
No one told you when to run, you missed the starting gun.
The discomfort of life in this house, the lack of privacy, and the loss of freedom would be far more tolerable if my son was in treatment, seeking help, taking medication and finding his way back to a normal life.
These are the dark thoughts, the raw emotions I feel. The lunatic is in my head. I feel ashamed for having these thoughts, but I suspect they're normal. maybe their understandable. I don't know. After all we're only ordinary men. I've never been here before. These feelings don't feel like mine. There's someone in my head, but it's not me.
I'm glad my son is safe at home, sheltered, fed, and clothed. I have peace of mind knowing I at least can provide the basics, but I want to do so much more. He won't let it happen. I think of life as a caretaker. It's not a pleasant picture, especially when I know many schizophrenics with high intellect can go on to lead reasonably normal lives, under the proper treatment program. I sometimes resent my son for not helping me help him.
My son's life has been hijacked by mental illness. Everything he thinks is fantasy but it's as real to him and your life is to you. He won't wake up. His brain is damaged.
But it was only fantasy.
The wall was too high,
As you can see.
No matter how he tried,
He could not break free.
And the worms ate into his brain.
When these grim thoughts invade my mood I must remember to breathe, breathe in the air. Don't be afraid to care. There's no other place for my son to go. I'm his only hope even when I feel there is none. I can't allow these thoughts to get the best of me. I can't be resentful. I won't get angry. I do my best to not be depressed despite knowing.........
The child is grown,
The dream is gone.
I have become comfortably numb.