In the Looney Bin, Again

I found out today that Mom is back in a state operated mental institution, aka, the loony bin. While some people grow up without ever having to visit a mental institution, none of them are related to me. My mother has been in and out of mental spas all of my life and I'm in my mid forties.

In the early years she'd admit herself when she needed help. Then it progressed to the point her counselors or doctors would have her committed. Then to the point her family would have to force her to the emergency room and sign papers to have her admitted against her wishes. You haven't lived until you sign the dotted line admitting your parent to the loony bin. (The visits are way fun too.)

Sure, the first time or two - or two dozen depending on your level or optimism - you are thinking 'this is good for her'. She's going to get a chance to deal with her issues, get her medication taken care of, and things will get better. There isn't a one of us that believe that any longer.

Her decline in mental heath over the last few years has been shocking. Even to me. A common phrase that pops up when anyone visits her is, "there's no one home". She will sit and visit with her children like they're door to door sales men and she's lonely. She doesn't remember who we are, who we're married to, if we have/had jobs, or ask about our children. There is no connection at all.

A few months back she started imagining visits that didn't happen. She called my nephew and wanted to know why he didn't bother saying goodbye before he left. Going so far as to have a fit and hang up on him when he denied sneaking into the house and spending the night with her, in her bed. She wouldn't talk to him for weeks for lying about it and trying to make her feel crazy.

Apparently that was the beginning of the latest slide into delusion. She called my brother last week demanding he call her doctor (at the loony bin where she'd been for three weeks) and admit him and his family had come to visit the day before. They weren't going to release her until she could prove that he'd stopped by - which would be hard to do as he'd been in Austin with me the entire day.

As soon as she hung up, he did call the doctor and let him know no one in the family had been up to see her the day before. The doctor knew. He also knew there really were no people living in mom's non-existent attic and that no grandchildren actually slept under the cushions of her couch.

I don't feel shocked, nor saddened. Just resigned and very thankful for those who help me hang on to my own sanity.