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Today, I became very aware that I haven't told many people. And of the people I've told, I don't know exactly how much I've said.
I've been busy protecting and nurturing one of my 23 year old sons.
23?! You might question. That's beyond the age of needing 'protection'! Or is it?
Mental illness is something that is not talked about much at all; unless it's in the context of a mass shooting, serial killers and rapists. My son is none of these. In fact, he is a very sweet, gentle and kind person who got the short end of the genetic stick. Schizoaffective disorder is what it's called and he has come so far from where he was when he arrived 6 months ago.
My husband and I have been helping him get his life back on track in a new way; with his new set of medicine-imposed rules he needs to live by. So we also have been living by these rules to support him. It hasn't been easy on any of us on any level. But one thing I do know, is that love is the greatest healer of all.