June 9th 2022- Today marks 31 years that this soul Anthony Perez gave me the label of mom for the very first time! Being 16 years old and naive to the world, thinking it would lovingly embrace me and my son holding us safely in its arms…I was never prepared for all its heartache and simple joys. Mental illness has played its role since day one but that’s not a topic that’s included in any of the parenting books or even in the passed down wisdom from elders or pediatric professionals. It’s like being excited on Christmas morning when you unwrap your Xbox but it turns out that it’s a pack of socks. Although you are grateful; you are never truly prepared for that unraveling.
The last 10 years in Anthony’s care has been the hardest and those close to us know a small piece of its struggles. I may be steadfast in my optimism and positivity in the fact that we will persevere as a family but very few understand the gripping on your heart, the disappointments, the failures, the trauma or the true despair that come from its utter deception.
I look back on his life and can see all the missteps I made along the way. What did I really know about life much less parenting a special needs child? This kid didn’t have the luxury of his father being an active part of his life. The various individuals that took the position of being a male role model failed him in one way or another. There was never any consistency even with close family members. I don’t blame anyone for those failures but having those bonds are imperative in every child’s life.
As a child he was different. We went through the phone calls from school, the outbursts, the infant behaviors, getting suspended starting in first grade, seeing psychiatrists and therapists, getting an ADHD diagnosis, then a bipolar one. He grew rebellious and suicidal. He had begun inpatient care at 5 different residential treatment centers over a 2 year period. His diagnosis kept getting longer and longer. As much as you don’t want “another issue” to deal with; you get a little hopeful in thinking that at least there’s a name and a treatment plan…ignorantly you believe this.
As he grew into his teens and thought he knew better (as they do) he got involved with a bad bunch. After an argument with me - he left and said he was spending the night with a friend. Being exhausted from all his mood swings, I thought that this would give us both a break. Instead he was kidnapped by these said friends for several days. They beat him to the point where his skin color was solid black with spots of purple from the bruising. He was able to escape the room he was being held in and came knocking on the front door. It was one of the first times he saw me as his support but also didn’t think he deserved to just walk back in his home. His tears from the physical and emotional abuse broke my heart and pissed me off. After filing charges against these kids, I knew then that I couldn’t just leave him to his own decision making. Although I’d been fighting for his care and well being; I knew that there will be more future outside influences that I couldn’t control. It’s truly an evil world. Anthony was older but still very naive and would forever need a caregiver in some form or fashion.
Because we had a fight and he wasn’t doing well in school he was sent to juvenile and placed on probation. This eventually led to him being placed at the Texas Youth Commission for a year. They took him off all his meds that took us years to get “right” because they didn’t feel like he needed them. This set back caused so much more damage in his care. We literally had to start over. During one of our first visits his entire face was busted up with bruises, bloodshot eyes and his lips were so swollen he couldn’t eat. The staff pretended as though there wasn’t an incident or reason to be concerned. I just sat there and cried. He learned about and attempted to join a gang while there so I wasn’t allowed to cry and bring attention to him otherwise he’d pay for it after I left. Myself and other parents fought to get reform and to get our kids out as other TYCs in Texas were being closed for abuse.
Once he was released he was fairly able to stay stable in taking his meds and working for a temp service from time to time. Some years had passed with many adventures but he had maintained a level head. I thought maybe this is the stage where “he grows out of it”. I was wrong.
He turned 18 years old and I no longer had the legal power to make him compliant with his meds. He started self medicating and tried using cocaine. He was caught with cocaine residue and eventually sent to prison for 6 years. I know drug dealers who have done less time and I began learning how the judicial system isn’t actually filled with justice. But I won’t go down that long road.
He again faced abuse in prison. This abuse is very different and traumatic on another level. His nose was broke within the first few weeks because he sat with his cell mate that was black. If you think America has a racist problem then the prison life will leave you disgusted. Inmates run the prisons and because Anthony is what they consider a crash dummy he took all sorts of abuse. It was torture. He suffered concussions, malnourishment, stripping him of his dignity, taking his commissary, passing around his letters, threatening his family, trying to extort money from me and the list goes on. They convinced him he was in prison for pedophilia. It took us years to convince him he wasn’t. After fighting like hell and by the great fortune of having good people on the inside we were able to get him transferred to a psychiatric unit. He had been moved several times before and ended up in a max prison because his mind had deteriorated so bad that he was classified as an aggressor and was now serving time with the foulest inmates. He was fighting for his life in there. He weighed 240 pounds going in and was released at 135 pounds.
After 5 years he was released with one year left to do on probation. It was a hard transition. All the depressive visits over the 5 years didn’t prepare us for what was left of him. He was now diagnosed with SchizoAffective Disorder then Schizophrenia and doctors agreeing he was possibly autistic this entire time but at this stage in his life it didn’t matter because of the trauma he endured. I still believe he also suffered traumatic brain injury from all the beatings in prison that caused multiple concussions and loss of consciousness on many occasions. He had become so unfamiliar to all of us. We would literally track his every move and go on searches for hours when he’d go missing. He’d walk all around Waco for hours in 104 degree weather with a hoodie on and then walk in the rain or cold with just a t-shirt and shorts on.
He started shoplifting pencils and pens because he was getting confused that it was his commissary in prison. He’d write letters every single day to me, Kourtney/Khloe Kardashian, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, etc. I still have about 300 of those letters. His mind was and remains fragmented. He even told me once he was defragmenting like a computer.
We tried keeping a schedule and involving him in events but he started regressing and isolating. We tried changing his meds again because that just never stops. You are always tweaking the regimen in mental health. The voices, the paranoid thoughts and phantom smells started taking him over.
We had several events and many calls to 911 that led up to a day he was in full psychosis. After a non-eventful day, we had tacos for dinner and afterward he walked into the kitchen, grabbed a knife and assaulted Eric….there was no warning…no build-up…no nothing! He ran out of the house and after the chaos of getting Eric to the hospital and calling every place we thought he could go so they wouldn’t engage with him….we found him. He was calm and collected. When the police showed up he thought they found out about the pens and pencils he took from Walmart previously. Absolutely no recall…..even to this day he thinks he’s in trouble for shoplifting.
This house has been torn apart! From a son losing his senses and freedom -to a husband almost losing his life - to traumatized children who witnessed it all -to family on both sides not knowing what to say or do to support the madness.
Life stopped for me that day! There’s isn’t enough air in this world that will ever give me my life back. Trying to explain the juggling of supporting and caring for a spouse who’s been violated in one of the most traumatic ways to continuing to love and fight for a son that of no fault of his own deteriorates from an illness that many people still mock or disbelieve…..never mind the fact that there are other children to raise, trying to continue to grow in your career, aging parents who call on you for care….then witnessing the world that continues to celebrate birthdays, weddings, quinces, baby showers, graduations, BBQ’s, holidays, etc. and then family or friends wanting to vent about their shallow issues. I couldn’t have cared less!! My soul was numb.
You quickly learn how much the world around you doesn’t stop or care about your despair.
Luckily the demands of work kept me hyper focused that allowed me to function with that numbness. Then Covid happened! It was a blessing for me in the sense that the world finally matched what I was feeling. Everything shut down…no outings…no celebrations…worry and anxiety for loved ones health. It was exactly what I had been feeling and now I was finally not alone. I wish Covid on no one as many lives were lost within my own extended family and many friends!
But during the shutdowns, it gave me the time I needed where life didn’t continue as usual around me. It allowed me to let parts of my soul die without desiring to retrieve them. I began learning to let them go…I’m still learning. Although we still try to maintain some form of normalcy in this household by going on vacation and doing a few celebrations here and there….I’ve mostly given up on the idea of being involved with many things. I’ve finally given myself permission to say no and not feel guilty for not spending time with others. I honestly wish it were different because I miss certain events or people but it’s where I am today…and it’s more than sufficient.
As broken as our family has been we are still absolutely blessed. This world is filled with devastation that I wouldn’t wish on anyone. It continues to put things in perspective.
After 2 1/2 years (because of Covid) me and my big baby girl Sirena Ariana were finally able to see and hug on my boy. We took him some cupcakes to celebrate his birthday that he usually doesn’t remember. He looked healthy and was able to hold a small conversation with us. He even laughed a few times! 😊 We haven’t had that from him in years. It was a good day! His future is unknown but I have to lift him up and trust that he’s in the Lord’s hands and grace!
If you made it this far then I vulnerably share all of this to say…
Never judge a situation or person. Learn their full story.
Everyone is in a battle in some form ..minor or major.
Mental health must be made a priority.
Every life is unique.
Each moment we are given is a continued opportunity to move forward.
Love on others.
Take care of those you love and don’t give up on them.
Be of service where there’s a need.
Check on your “strong” friends….we hurt more than you know. Some of my most “happiest” and smiling days were actually my saddest.
Be ridiculous for the right reasons. Never turn down a good laugh!
Give grace.
Don’t be afraid to say “no”….protect your time, energy and mental health.
When you do say “yes”…be in the moment…embrace and enjoy it!
Little moments do matter.
Don’t compare….period! My life is far from ideal but there are still some that will only see the ideal and compare themselves to it….don’t because my life is not to be coveted….no one’s is!
Having humility and releasing yourself of shame or guilt is the greatest gift you can give yourself!
Nothing material in this world will bring you the contentment and peace you seek as much as trusting in the Lord!
After everything has been taken from you, even your mind….Love Remains!
#AnthonyRene #MentalIllness #Schizophrenia #LovingWhatIs
