Blog # 12: Mental illness in the family

I found out that my uncle had bipolar disorder when I was in my sophomore year in high school; I did not really know how serious of a burden it was until after his death. I am not sure when he was diagnosed with BD, but I noticed all the signs of the mental illness, but I did not know he was actually sick I just thought he was a prick. He had these long periods of super high energy, overtly happy and fun, those were the days when I liked him and he was my uncle, then out of nowhere he would just turn in to somebody completely different.  I would want to go and talk to him, joke around and laugh about things and he would just ignore me act as if I was not even there, he looked and acted like a different person.

On day around 8 in the evening I was coming downstairs to grab a snack from the kitchen when I smelled something funny and I heard the microwave door shut. I walked into the kitchen and saw my uncle rolling up a joint. He would do the same routine every night before he went to bed, heat up the marijuana, lick the joint paper roll it up and smoke it while lying down in his favorite lounge chair. He would go and stay out for days, when he returned home he was different, my mother finally decided to have him admitted at mental institution for his safety. Since my mother and I had such a strong bound, whenever thing began to get rough she would come to me and tell me what was wrong, so it was that day she took uncle to the hospital when I found out that he was suffering from bipolar disorder and another type of mental illness that I cannot remember at this moment. He was released 2 weeks later and was put on medication, he did well for a while, but when he ran out of his medication he would have his BD episodes.

He was back to smoking drugs and staying out all night, one night he never came back. It was Late at night around mid-night I believe when 2 cops showed up at our door steps, I remember exactly what I was doing, my grandmother had woke me up to get her some tea, water and heat up her coffee, I was wearing a pink silk robe and a bandanna on my head, when I heard a knock at the door. I went over looked through the peep hole and saw that is was two officers, I ran upstairs and got my mother and she opened the door and let the two men in. They asked her do you know a Patrick Lawson, she said yes I do, that is my brother. Then they said ma'am I am sorry to have to tell you this but there has been an accident and your brother was involved, he was hit by a car when crossing the street, we believe he was killed on impact. I was in shock and in disbelief, I had no outward expression of emotion I was just silent, turned around and went upstairs to give my grandmother her coffee.

It would be two - three months after the accident before I found out what really happened. At the time of the accident everybody was looking for someone to blame, my grandmother blamed eldest brother for not wanting to drive him to where he would pick up his weed and my mother blamed the lady who hit him; until one afternoon when my mom picked me up from track practice and we started reminiscing about the good times, and the fun times we had with Patrick, and crying because he was no longer with us, it was that day when my mom told me why my uncle was dead. We pulled up into the drive way and she turned and looked at me and said "Patrick killed himself; he was trying to fight a lot of demons off. He came to me and told me he was thinking about suicide and apologizing for be  a burden" She told me that Patrick was getting worse up until that day, and that is when she notice something different about him, he was calm that whole day. She said she knew something was going to happen, but what she did not know. She said I believe Patrick stepped out in front of that care on purpose; it was no accident that he was killed.

Is that true I am not sure, but my mom was pretty confident that Patrick was ready to leave this world behind. I realize now two days before his death; he was reading his Bible a lot more and praying a lot more than usual. I did hear him ask God to forgive him for what he was about to do, but I did not pay any attention to it, now I wish I had, maybe he would still be alive, and then I think maybe it is a good thing that he is gone, he does not have to suffer anymore he is resting in Gods arms now, no more tears no more pain and no more worrying.  I also realize that he loved me, when I thought he hated me.

I learned that you could be completely energized and jubilant one moment and sad the next; also that it can take a toll on a person physically and mentally. It not only affects the individual, it affects everyone in your life. You know what I always wondered why he had a different job every 5 months and then there were periods where he would be out of work for more than 5 months. That would explain why my grandmother and mother were always sending him money when we lived in Atlanta, Georgia. He always had a hard time holding down a job. Wow I never realized the affects a mental illness can have on a person until I read about it this week, what an eye opener.

Anyways,

Rest I Peace Uncle Patrick, we love and miss you dearly tell Uncle Leon I said HI!!