A Piece of Me: Growing Up

Let me introduce myself. My name is Chantal, and I grew up in a family where my sister has a mental disorder. She was eight years old when she was diagnosed. I was four and my brother was three years old. My parents were caught off-guard. You may know me as the 2005 summer student at Friends.

I spent my entire childhood feeling like there was something wrong with my family, but since my parents had decided to hide the truth, my questions went unanswered. My sister behaved quite erratically and instead of explaining to me what it was all about, I was told not to bother her because she was "sensitive". So it was my own fault she was mean to me (I was a bad sister). My parents didn't realize the message they were sending, and I don't blame them; they really didn't know any better. However, I felt left-out and so at a young age I began distancing myself from my own family because I thought I wasn't cared for, that I wasn't worthy, and didn't feel as though I belonged. That was the way I coped with the situation.

When I was seventeen years old, my parents were forced to finally tell me and my brother the truth. My sister had attempted to commit suicide and was recovering at the psychiatric unit at the hospital. Unfortunately, thirteen years had passed during which I had managed to become almost completely independent. I lived under their roof because I was not allowed to move out, (my parents were strict) but I did not interact with any member of my family. I had been working since I was 12 years old, and supported all my basic needs; clothes, food, school supplies, I even bought my own soap, toothbrush, etc.  In a sense it was too late for me.

When I was finally able to leave home to go to university, I found out quickly that not only did I not know my family, but I had spent so much time keeping myself busy with school, work, and sports, that I really didn't even know myself, even as independent as I had become. I had never allowed myself time for self-reflection; I had always been in a sort of survival mode. I have always been shy, but began having panic attacks when I had to meet new people. After barely passing my first year at University, I went to work in British Columbia where I then became seriously depressed. I was too scared to go for help, I have always taken care of myself, and so I also felt that I had no one to turn to.

Today I am doing really well, having accepted help from a very patient man who is now my husband, and seeking help from a university counselor who was very understanding and supportive. I returned to University and finished a bachelor degree in psychology, and started working here at Friends for Mental Health. I still have work ahead of me, I still struggle to find myself, but I steadily progress. Unfortunately, the hardest part for me still revolves around my family. I still feel like an outsider on my visits home because my family does not really know me. I've been away for so long now.

To finish, I'd just like to state that if you think that by hiding a family member's mental illness you are protecting another from it, think again. First of all it's not contagious, and there is nothing to be ashamed about. Be open and honest with your children, they may be too young to understand all the implications of the illness, but they will feel more secure if they are made aware of what is going on. They must understand that it's no one's fault.  I had felt neglected and later developed problems of my own. Don't let the same thing happen to your family. Please seek help on how to educate children about mental illness. There are great resources available out there to help you, use them!