How Mental Illness Almost Destroyed My Family Forever

My sister is mentally ill. She was diagnosed with schizophrenia years ago. Years before that I assumed she had mental issues but because of the tenuous thread of a relationship we had I did not approach the subject with her nuclear family.

Her sons spent time with my husband and I at our farm in the summers as they were growing up, and we all enjoyed that immensely. Days after sunny days of laughter, too much candy and very late nights were the fare when they shared our home. It was glorious.

The boys would sometimes confide in me about their mom’s mood swings or rages or what I would consider abusive behavior. There were times I experienced these things in person (we lived 6 hours away) and there were also those times I tried to intervene for the sake of the boys. My sister’s retaliation for these infractions was always over the top and in one such instance she kept me from seeing the boys for 3 years.

Her rages, erratic behavior and extreme highs and lows ruled her household and her husband and boys became experts at walking on emotional eggshells. But still, with all the tension and anger and abuse the boys and her husband continually suffered they protected her and took her side which I learned was somehow more “normal” than not in this situation.

For years there seemed to be some sort of invisible impenetrable barrier between my sister and I. The boys eluded to it at times but I had no idea how deep her hatred and jealousy of me was. Until the day I got an email from one of her sons, now an adult, unleashing a hate riddled diatribe of what a loathsome creature I was. I was banished from his life and the lives of his children who would “never meet me or know I even existed”. Needless to say, it more than blindsided me.

Then a similar email came from another of her adult sons. Again, I was blindsided. She had 3 sons so I steeled myself for 1 more hate-filled email. Thankfully it never came.

Two of the 3 boys I had spent those summers with, the boys who said they loved me so much, now said they hated me and never wanted to hear from me again. It was inexplicable. There had been no blow up, no coarse words spoken to cause this sudden reign of hatred.

It was then I realized my sister had carefully crafted — twisted and turned — the minds and hearts and thoughts of her own sons and husband against me over many years. It was then I knew her anger and hatred was more than just that. Mental illness lived in their home. Mental illness was part of my family. Though I couldn’t prove it, I knew it.

Then word came that my nephew, my sister’s youngest son (who had not banished me) had died in an accident. And the hateful gates of family Hell broke open with such intensity that I could feel the white hot anger long distance. I was told by my nephew (in a phone conversation) I was not welcome to come to his brother’s funeral. Neither was my husband.

It was my mentally ill sister’s bidding he did. She exacted her delusional revenge with such precision that no one in her nuclear family thought it unusual. No one thought it extreme. Not in the least. That in itself said volumes.

More than 8 years after the hateful correspondence from my nephews I received an email from one of them. He apologized. A simple apology at that but an apology. He revealed his mom, my sister, had in fact been diagnosed with schizophrenia. He realized that because of that diagnosis he needed to look at what he had been told all his life by his mom about the people she hated most: myself, my brother and her now ex-husband whom she physically attacked and tried to kill.

It was heartbreaking to hear and internalize what these boys (now men) had already gone through, what they went through now — every day — dealing with someone who thinks you are their enemy or “after them” or the reason the FBI is watching them via their apartment’s heat vents.

She’s broken into their houses, caused them many problems, and done so many other things that continue to make their lives a perpetual living Hell. As if they hadn’t already had enough of that growing up.

And, I have come to understand that when you are dealing with that much stress on a daily basis you only have so much left to give to your nuclear family and next to nothing left for those outside that immediate family.

Simply put, our relationship is what it is — or is not. It has taken me some time to get to this place but I can live with that now. And I think that’s healthy.

When I think of all the possible ways this story could end I realize my sister’s mental illness could have destroyed my family forever.

There could have been no apology. There could have been no relationship. There could have been only deafening silence. Forever.

Jackie Deems copyright 2019