I made dinner- not until 9 p.m., but I made it. I had a bit of a rough day. At a training I learned about signs and symptoms of several different mental illnesses, which I was happy about- happy the training was available to the community and happy the stigma of getting help was being addressed.
When the presenter got to schizophrenia and schizoaffective disorder, I could feel my heart beating faster. It was Cory's face I saw as hallucinations and delusions were described. There were video clips and role play, but I knew even the best of intentions would never be able to describe the terror, the confusion, the fear, and the anxiety that Cory lived with. My heart still hurts for all she went through and that I wasn't able to take it away. She was getting better, but she'd lived in hell for a good long time by then, and there was nothing I could do about it.
"Telling them that they are safe, that you'll keep them safe is one of the best things you can do."
I can't tell you how many memories that single statement brought back. How much I wish I'd been able to keep her safe one last time.
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