Parenting

Bev, Harriet and Joyce

gail louise Parenting, Real Life; Real Challenges ,

My mother, Janet Alice, was tremendously vital to whom I have been and to whom I have become. Three other mothers, Bev, Harrriet and Joyce expanded my concept of motherhood. These women were also role models to me for becoming the best mother I could be:

It is possible.

As a mother, I want to see a world
with less competition
and more cooperation,
Less exploitation
and more mentoring,
Less meager and more real funding,
for services and education benefitting
mothers and children …

Every day of every year.

Bev, Harriet and Joyce were mothers of children with serious mental illness. I met Bev and Harriet first. They were the co-founders of the National Alliance on Mental Illness (NAMI) Dane County, which began in Madison, WI in the late 1970’s. The Madison, WI affiliate birthed the national organization.

Bev was driven to be an advocate for people with mental illness. She wanted essential services and better health care for those most seriously affected by a mental illness. Harriet wanted the same. Bev had a gift for advocating …  fiercely. Harriet’s gift was communication. She was a very fine journalist.

Bev and I got to know and respect each other. She was active physically and mentally throughout her life. Indeed, late in our relationship we discovered her north woods Wisconsin cabin was just a few miles from our families north woods cabin!  I recall the day Bev told me she and I were alike; committed and bold in our NAMI work, be it public or private. (Being alike meant occasionally we were at odds in terms of what we thought was best for people with mental illness.)

Harriet and I became friends through our commitment to leadership and writing. After I had written an article for the NAMI Dane newsletter that was respectful of parents of children with mental illness, she began to trust me. We admired and loved each other. I smiled when I entered her retirement apartment. The bookcases were filled, every inch. She and I were both avid readers. Harriet and her husband had an agreement: neither of them would buy another book until they gave away one of their current books. 

Joyce entered my life in 1993. When told by physicians that she was the cause of her daughter’s mental illness, she rebelled! It was common practice by MD’s and others to blame mothers for their children’s mental illness. Alas, my mother told me my paternal grandmother was thought to be the cause of my fathers recurrent depressions.

How did Joyce rebel? She obtained a PhD in psychology and began a private counseling practice. After gaining experience as a psychologist, she taught families in her home state, Vermont, how to help themselves and help their relatives with mental illness. She conceived and wrote a 12 session Family to Family Education curriculum. Initially Joyce gathered families together in the homes of people like you and me. Mothers, fathers, wives, husbands, brothers and sisters talked and listened to each other. For most of the men and women attending the classes, it was the first time they openly discussed mental illness and the challenges they and their well and affected family members faced. It was a blessing and a comfort to express their concerns in an unguarded manner. To problem solve. To grieve … and to rejoice together.  

The Family to Family program expanded. Wisconsin was the thirteenth state to get onboard. Lucky thirteen. Eighteen people gathered in a very small room for a three day training to learn to teach the Family to Family program in Wisconsin. I was one of the eighteen trainees. From those nine sets of teachers, the program expanded to 100 sets of teachers, as of 2013, when I retired. Becoming educated on mental illness was and continues to be life changing for me … and for people throughout the 48 states of the continental United States.

Here’s the rub: Many mothers like Bev, Harriet and Joyce are thrust into the role of advocate, educator, support person, and major caretaker. 

Sometimes for the entirety of their lives.  

Thank you kindly,
Gail Louise

… I was inspired to think carefully and in depth on motherhood’s impact on children’s development by the writing of Anna Malaika Tubbs in her book: The Three Mothers: How the Mothers of Martin Luther King, Malcolm X, and James Baldwin Shaped A Nation.

Mothers Day, 2021: A Tribute to My Mother

gail louise Parenting, Real Life; Real Challenges

Sunday we celebrated our grandson’s 16th birthday as well as Mothers Day. The birthday boy and his sister, children of our oldest child and her husband, our son and ourselves met at a local park and had a picnic. We laughed, ate really good food, and hugged each other often as it was the first time in over a year all 7 of us were together. 

My mother, Janet Alice, knew both our grandchildren before she died. I remember my Mom’s delight at our grandson’s first birthday party.  Born on May Day, his birthday party was an outdoor potluck. Our granddaughter was born four years later on Valentines Day …  6 months before Mom passed. Our daughter made sure to visit Mom at Hospice with the new baby girl well before my Mom’s final days.

My mother taught me many things.

  •  She helped me learn how to read.

Picture this:  She was tired. It was evening, after preparing a big dinner and after doing dishes by hand. Perhaps it was 8 pm. Mother and I sat on the floor of the dining room, to be near the heat register. The book was the traditional “See Dick Run, See Jane Run.”

  •  She taught me how to sew. Mom was a skilled seamstress.

Famously, she sewed the black wool cape I wore to a Big Ten University Homecoming Dance with my husband to be, in 1967. The dress was red velvet, enticing to the eye and soft to touch.

Twenty years later our daughter was invited to her first prom. The prom dress needed alteration. By this time my sewing skills were rusty so we enlisted the help of a tailor.  When our daughter donned the prom dress and the black cape, the tailor marveled at the quality of the cape my mother had sewn.

  • She instilled in me a desire to have beautiful handwriting. Every time she signed her name, she wrote carefully, be it a check, a greeting card, or a gift tag.

    … And she had a long career as a bank teller.

When senior citizens needed to cash or deposit their Social Security check, they lined up deep at my mothers window.  My Mom would serve all patiently and carefully, so they could visit briefly with her and she with them. She was astute. Mom recognized an older woman customer was about to be cheated out of a large amount of money. She alerted the supervisors of the bank who advised the elder customer appropriately. The woman’s money was not stolen.

My Dad had major depression. He could be very verbally abusive. He belittled my mother frequently, in front of all the children. I never heard or saw her defend herself. To this day, I remember vividly watching her cry in silence while sewing.

Dad attempted suicide four times: in the mid-1950, 1968, 1972 and 1979. Perhaps there were more than four times. I will never know. I never asked.

Neither did I ask her how she got through all this.

After my Dad passed in 1996, Mom began a new life for herself. She painted. She learned how to write stories describing and illustrating her past and current life. Mom began to decorate the Christmas tree the way she preferred. In fact, she invited her grandchildren to help her assemble and decorate the tree. She was talented with houseplants and arranging home decor. Mom also worked out at Curves several times a week. She became more physically fit while chatting with the younger women trainers. She had more fun.

It is extremely challenging to be a relative to someone with a serious mental illness. Did her parents advise her to divorce my Dad? – They did not approve of my Dad or my Dad’s parents. What unwanted remarks did her siblings make? Did she think of divorcing my Dad? 

My Mom remained married to my Dad to keep our family intact, even though she lost some love for him. I know this was so as she told me.

I believe for her, staying married was the right thing to do.

Thank you, Mom.

Gail Louise

Remembering My Father in this Election Year 2016

gail louise Parenting, People, Mentors, and Allies , ,

Picture this, a big table in our farm kitchen covered with red and while checked oil cloth and dozens of clean clear glass jars, standing alert and ready to receive the recently made homemade jam of the month. Perhaps it was my favorite, raspberry jam. Raspberry jam was the perfect complement to my mother’s homemade bread. (It was heavenly in our kitchen when Mom baked bread. The aroma of the baking bread was divine.  She would find a way week after week to fit all 7 loaves of bread/dinner rolls into the oven simultaneously. If we timed it just right, the younger children, would arrive home from school just as the bread finished baking. The big question always was: Which of us would get the crusts?

This past weekend I have been enjoying making fresh applesauce and tasty apple butter. As I write, this it is Thanksgiving week and I hope everyone who will share our holiday feast will enjoy some warm fragrant apple butter with my daughter’s fresh baked dinner rolls. The apple butter is (mostly) made from dark red McIntosh apples which yielded a rich bright pink naturally sweet sauce. The sauce looked good to eat, and it was as delicious as it looked!

I smiled as I remembered these things. For you see, I am thankful that my mother had passed food preserving skills and interest in them to me when I was as young as 9 years old.  I realize that I’ve passed these baking and cooking skills to my daughter and son, who are more gifted with food creation than both my mother and I.

And then I felt sad. Other than my lovely singing voice, what gifts did my father pass on to me?  I thought for awhile and then realized I had let the fact that he had a mental illness blur my sight and my insight. My father gave me something I’m sure to need for today and for these next four years.  He taught me the importance of attending to daily news, especially state and national news, and politics. Dad was attentive to the news, to politics, and to our government. And I was proud of his interest and ability to discuss and debate current affairs.

I’ve never forgotten the image of my Dad reading the daily paper:  The afternoon paper, which was the liberal paper – and in contrast to his in-laws, who always read the morning, conservative, Republican paper. The prime location for reading the daily paper was the kitchen table. He’d sit down in his overalls and cap with a cup of coffee in his rugged hands.  Perhaps the hardworking hands were chapped or sunburned. The paper would be spread out to cover most of the table. We children dare not monkey with the paper until Dad had read the news—you know, the front page and section. We children also did not talk with Dad or fool around in the kitchen when he was reading.

Mom as well read the paper every day. (As a farm wife, she deserved a break every day before we all returned home. It was always reading the paper, sitting at the kitchen table, with a refreshing drink, right when the clock struck three pm.) But Mom read quietly, and kept her views of the news private.

During the 1950’s when times were good for our family, Mother and Dad took me, then 13-years old, and my two teenage brothers on a trip to see our nation’s capital. Two younger sisters both then in grade school were left in the care of a neighboring farm family.  The care and feeding of a dairy herd is a very personal skill, and a task that cannot cease even for a single day.  I don’t know if this expresses how unusual and how risky it was for a farm family to take leave of their farm for a vacation that meant traveling across a considerable area of the United States. We did stop at historic sites too, including Gettysburg.

Why did my father choose Washington, DC? He felt we three older children were at the right age to learn the importance of and to visit our national capitol and the famous monuments, and to hear again the story of our grandparents who had immigrated earlier during the 1900’s from Norway. Both became citizens.  But the biggest push was to meet the congressmen representing Wisconsin.  Fortunately, the elected officials with their busy schedules were available. They were able to spend a brief 5 to 10 minutes each with us. Three future new voters were very impressed with Mom and Dad’s vacation gift and its lessons of people, history …. and responsibility. And we, to the best of my knowledge, have always exercised our responsibility and privilege as citizens of this great land my father took us across.

Even this year.

Offering True Support

gail louise Chronic/SeriousMental_Illness, Giving and Receiving Support, On Support, Parenting , , , , , , , ,

Most of us have found ourselves, at one time or another, wanting to provide a friend or relative with a listening ear… or to be a helpful sounding board; in other words, to provide support. What is present when someone is offering true support?

True support is present when the recipient feels listened to and understood. Some emotional needs have been shared and supported together. Just listening well and empathically may help someone clarify options or sort out thoughts. If you’re unsure if the support you offer is satisfactory and your intention is genuine, I suggest asking the recipient gently: Did she feel really listened to? Did he feel a lifting, even temporarily, of a burden? If yes, you have given someone a great gift!

My experience as a support group facilitator and as a trainer of facilitators, both in giving and in receiving support from people with mental illness through an adult lifetime guide me to these recommendations (Under “On Healing” in the menu bar). I hope you find them thoughtful.

Oh So Real: Pregnancy and Suicidal Depression

gail louise Depression during Pregnancy, MajorDepression, On Support, Parenting , , , , , , , , , , ,

“Oh baby,” I said, as he/she came down the birth canal, “You are born!”. It was 1979. We didn’t know the sex of the child before birth. The birthing experience was wonderful, a balm for the difficult pregnancy caused by the onset of major depression in the fourth month of pregnancy.

I was alone.

Don’t get me wrong, my husband was with me very much during the pregnancy. But I was alone with being pregnant and being ill. I knew no other woman who was or had been pregnant and seriously depressed to talk to, to compare notes, to help me express my feelings or to hug. I hope this summary of my story of the difficult pregnancy will help other mothers who find themselves struggling with similar experiences today.

If you are pregnant and depressed, you are Not alone.

People with mental illness want to succeed as parents

gail louise Chronic/SeriousMental_Illness, MajorDepression, Parenting, Real Life; Real Challenges , ,

Parenting. I know that when my son was born, and I had serious depression, I was overwhelmed by the thought of taking care of a newborn, the rest of the family, the home, meals, …..the whole shebang. No one in my health care team thought of arranging for assistance for me or even meeting with me. My extended family assumed once the baby was born the depression would correct itself and, with the joy of the new baby, I would manage fine.

Actually the terror of my anxiety level worsened. I was sure I would do things wrong. The depression worsened.

My children are now ages 35 and 40. They are well and we are doing well with each other. I couldn’t be more blessed as a parent. In fact, now I am a Grandparent to two children, a boy and girl who are 5 and 9. Their birthdays are coming up and celebrating grandchildren’s birthdays  is an awful lot of fun!

I’ll discuss some things I would have done differently when my children were born in a second post.

Parenting, continued….

gail louise MajorDepression, On Support, Parenting, Real Life; Real Challenges , , , , , , , , , ,

Raising children, for me, while taking care of my own mental illness, was a double challenge. I was a parent before major depression, and later Bipolar Disorder II, evolved. My article on parenting (in the menus above under “Real Life, Real Challenges”) was written several years ago but this post gives me the opportunity to add to my observations.
Support should be given to them every step of the way, as needed, per individual. We love our children and want to do the best for them. Support during pregnancy check-ups; assistance at hand, if wanted, when the baby is about to be born; coordinated discharge planning when mother and baby are leaving for home; weekly in-home visits, etc.

With that in mind, here are some things I would do differently if I had the opportunity:

  • I would be less critical of family members. In fact, I think that some parenting classes can be suggested to parents with mental illness ( we’d learn the program and we’d all learn from each other) Stress techniques that would teach how to do positive reinforcement so the parent with depression/mental illness has some tools to use.
  • I would teach my children at an earlier age, in simple terms, that I had an illness and that sometimes I needed the house to be extra quiet and I had to nap because I wasn’t feeling well.
  • I/we would teach that the illness and bad feelings that I had were not the children’s fault, nor anyone’s fault.