BagongPinay - Pinay Ngayon (Filipina Today) April 2000 - Depression and Mental Illness, Story 4

Story 4:
"Bu-ang" Ang Nanay mo(Your Mother is Crazy)
Living with Those Who Have Mental Illness:
By Isabel Peralta

The first time my mother got sick I tried to kill myself. I was a little girl, around 8 years old and I remember being so distraught and upset about my mother being in the hospital. I put my small hands around my neck and squeezed... I remember gasping for breath, a darkness coming over me, and then landing on my knees. Then I remember letting go of my neck. I realized immediately, that I did't want to die...I should be around to to take care of my little brothers and to make sure my mom got well.

My mother first started getting sick when we lived in the U.S. I and my younger brothers did not understand what her nervous breakdowns were about but I remember when she first got sick I was in my third grade class. My favorite teacher, Mrs. Steinberger, got a rare telephone call in the classroom and then announced to me that I needed to go home to a family friend after school because my mother was sick. I recall a feeling that something was terribly wrong and I started to cry. When I and my brothers were together at our Tita Diding's home we didn't get to see our mother for a few days and this was frightening to us. We could hear the adults talking in hushed tones. We desperately wanted to see her . When we finally visited her, we children must have been stunned with the change that had come over our mother. She was disheveled, groggy, had bad breath and repeated everything she said at least 2-3 times. At the time, we did not know that she was heavily drugged. All we knew was that we wanted to be brave for her and be on our best behaviour so that we could help her get well ASAP. For a few weeks we stayed at the homes of close friends and visited her in the psychiatric ward. I recall walking the streets of our town by the California beaches, selling Girls Scout cookies. I see this clearly in my mind because I went off to do this with some friends instead of with my mom. I remember trying to act cheerful and trying not to think of my mom in the hospital. Nobody knew when she was going to get well.

When my mom got sick a second or third time, my Lola and Uncle Ralph flew in from the Philippines to see her and to take care of us kids. At the time, I did not know that my Lola was terrified of flying. But here she was arriving from a flight taking her half-way around the world to our home so she could visit her beloved her eldest daughter. This was the first time I had seen my Lola since I was 2 1/2 years old.

My Lola was the mother of 9 and had at least over a dozen grand kids at that time. I felt an immediate bond with my dearest Lola. She wrapped me in her arms while we sat at the edge of my mother's bed. I recall sobbing and crying hard into her comforting shoulder. This was the first time I remember crying about my mother. I was finally finding a release for all the anxiety and tension I had built up from trying to put on a brave face. I was about 9 years old.

My Lola and Uncle and my mom's friends and cousins encouraged her to move back to the Philippines where life could be less hectic, what with domestic help and a large extended family system. So a few years later, after one vacation and a few other breakdowns, my mother decided to go home to the Philippines. This was after living in the States for 17 years or so. In Bacolod City, she did not need to work any more, we had domestic help and we lived near her mother, father, siblings, 1st, 2nd... 3rd cousins....Her life did become less stressful and much easier. But this did not cure her sickness.

When I started to go to school in the Philippines I had become active in sports and also in art and cultural competitions. I wasn't at all shy and I made a lot of friends and went to most of the fun parties. During this time my mother continued to suffer from nervous breakdowns. Unfortunately, people in the 70s, especially in the Philippines, didn't use the term "breakdown" but would rather say of people like her that she went crazy or "buang". Worse, I knew that the people from the "uma" (farms or provincial areas) would see breakdowns in the light of superstition and say "namultuhan siya" referring to hauntings by a ghost or possession by a bad spirit---such horrid stories to fill a young girls heart with.

Being the eldest child, when she was sick I took on the burden of taking care of my brothers and running the household. I was lucky that my mother's family lived close to us. I was filled with grief during my mother's bouts with depression. As I grew older I was also filled with embarassment and shame.

My mother's illness made me desperate for two things: First, that she would get well forever. And second, that noone in my social circles would ever found out about my mother's sickness. The second thing was born out of the selfish reason. I was worried that if rumour got out about my "buang" mother, it would ruin my popularity. It was just the way things were back then in my home town. When I would mention to friends that my mother was very sick they did not know that I really meant that she had gone nuts and was under sedation. None of my close friends knew...not even any of my boyfriends in high school or college. That's how ashamed I was.

One of the last times my mother was sick, I was going to college in Manila. I was having the blues because my boyfriend had been out of the country travelling Europe and the U.S. for over a month. I learned to bury my personal heartaches deep at that time because my family had decided to fly her to Manila to stay with me so that I could care for her. It was my mother's request. My younger brother came along, to. My mother became the prime reason I woke up every day and my college concerns and romantic ties were pushed into the background. That was when I consciously started to say to myself "It will soon be over" to be able to endure my problems. And that was also when I consciously learned that God never sends a problem your way that you are not strong enough to handle.

My mother has been well for a long time now. My mother's illness was not just chemical though. Hers was emotional. She had to have a deep personal healing that came from within herself. When she realized that she had bottled up her resentments, her stress and her grief and anger over her husband's death she had begun her healing. It has been over 15 years since my mother has gotten sick again.

I remember distinctly when it became okay for me to talk about those emotionaly difficult times.

About 4 years ago, my American neighbor Jody and I became friends. One day she talked about her mothers bouts of illness from a chemical imbalance, a bi-polar disorder that caused her mother to act crazy. This was when Jodie was growing up, too. My heart went out to Jody and I realized that we had underwent similar things when we were young. I ended up telling her about my mom's illness. We talked about how our mothers got well and how we ourselves recovered from those emotionally scarring times. The relief I felt at finally sharing it with someone was great and profound and then I realized that a weight, that I had never acknowledge, had been lifted from my heart..

I had never realized how it had weighed in on me although I had never thought about it for a long time and although my mom had not gotten sick for years. The pain had not gone, it had still existed deep down inside me and resurfaced when I talked about it with Jody. But, once I got over talking about it with Jody and reflecting on it afterwards, I realized that the pain over it all had gone. I had finally come to a point when I could think about what my mother's illness put me through since I was 9 and not feel numb or hardened. I felt not only relief at having talked about it, but now I also felt healed.

My experience up to college revealed to me then that overcoming problems makes you a stronger person. Now that I am 37, I see problems and hardships a little differently. I believe that people are strong inside all along. If we never experience hardships, problems, crisis how will we ever know what we are made of from the inside. And how much more are we able to appreciate the happy moments, and the gifts of the universe when they do come our way.