A Reminder
I see the young man walking down the highway almost a mile before I pass him. I consider stopping and offering him a ride, but I am headed to work and haven’t left enough margin for even a short delay. As I pass, I notice the green duffel he has slung over his shoulder, his tattered shorts and tee shirt, the full beard, and the long hair pulled into a ponytail beneath his cap. I watch him walk with his head down and hunched shoulders as though he expects to arrive without assistance wherever the road takes him. I wonder who he is, where he has been, and if someone somewhere is missing him. My heart aches for him, for those who love him, and for myself and the son who is never far from my thoughts, so as I pass, I pray.
Mental Illness and Past Stigma
Certainly, not everyone who is traveling by foot, homeless, poor, or asking for assistance on a street corner or grocery store parking lot is suffering from mental illness. However, many are struggling to cope with a medical problem that might not be immediately obvious but one that often leaves them separated from the one thing they need most – others. Rather than compassion, they frequently face judgment and condemnation.
According to the American Psychiatric Association, “Mental illnesses are health conditions involving changes in emotion, thinking, or behavior (or a combination of these). Mental illnesses can be associated with distress and/or problems functioning in social, work, or family activities”. The American Psychiatric Association also reports that more than one in five adults has a diagnosable mental disorder. Of course, mental illness is a broad, sweeping term that can refer to a wide scope of mental health conditions that range from manageable depression to schizophrenia.
When I was a teenager and a young adult in the 1980s and 90s, few people knew anything about mental illness. The term usually carried a negative connotation, and so people rarely sought treatment for depression, anxiety, or an inability to function at what seemed a socially appropriate level. These people often suffered in silence. In a culture that valued productivity, many faced criticism and disapproval and were stigmatized as lazy and unreliable. Some tried to self-medicate with alcohol or drugs, but this came with its own stigma if their habit (or cure) became known.
Blessed by Connection
Today, mental illness is no longer a taboo topic, and it is often discussed openly and on social media. However, despite the progress that has been made in educating and informing people of the neurodiversity among individuals, many people who struggle with mental illness in one form or another continue to be met with condemnation rather than compassion. More than once, I have heard someone comment, “If they’d just get out and get a job, they wouldn’t be standing on the street corner begging.” Or “They’re probably an addict, and if you give them any money, they’ll just spend it on drugs.” This sentence is rarely followed by the kindness of buying them a hamburger or offering them coffee and a muffin, much less pulling over and actually talking to them for a few minutes.
I am preaching to myself here, too. I am guilty of driving by, pretending not to notice as I hurry on with my agenda. I was headed to work that morning, but I have frequently been just as guilty when my time and agenda were my own. However, the rare times when I have stopped and turned around to offer a ride to a weary traveler darkened and leathered by the sun, or when I have not only bought a burger for someone but sat and ate with them, or stopped to sit at a park bench with a lonely teen and offered them bottled water, I have found that the one blessed by the experience was me. I was the one whose heart was stretched and enlarged by compassion. I was the one who was blessed.
The Truth of a Diagnosis
When my youngest son first told me he was diagnosed as bipolar, I struggled to accept the truth of that diagnosis. I knew he struggled with depression, but honestly, didn’t everyone struggle with some form of depression at times? It wasn’t until after he returned home to recoup and recover from addiction and a long series of setbacks that I began to see and understand the impact his mental illness, complicated by complex PTSD and drug use, had on his capacity to work a full-time job or live without the care and support of others. This awareness wasn’t instantaneous but came slowly as I watched him hope, dream, plan, strive, struggle, and sometimes despair of the life for which he longs.
Jerrod is kind and compassionate. He likes people and can be outgoing, charming, witty, and a lot of fun. Staying current on the latest technological advances, he is often the go-to guy in our family for advice when purchasing a new phone or computer. He likes to observe people and usually has excellent insight into their preferences. Consequently, his gifts are both surprising and perfect. But Jerrod also struggles with mental illness, and it is complicated by family dysfunction, childhood trauma, military trauma, and drug use. Sometimes, it causes him to disconnect and disappear from the lives of those who love him. Sometimes, he is simply missing from our lives.
Growing in Compassion
That morning, as I passed the young man on the road, my thoughts returned to my son, and I wondered if he was on a street corner somewhere or walking down a long highway. I prayed that if someone offered him a ride or a burger, they would also provide him with a moment of connection. When their paths intersect, I pray others will see him as another, equally created human being. I hope wherever he is, he has found connections and people who listen and value him simply for who he is.
If someone you love is struggling with mental illness, I hope you do what you can to educate yourself about their diagnosis. I still do not know much about bipolar disorder, but I have learned enough to better recognize the symptoms and empathize with the struggles. I would encourage you to listen to the stories of others who live with these struggles from podcasts, movies, and books. As your heart grows in compassion, I pray it not only extends to the one you love but to all others.
Finding Comfort and Peace
Losing contact with an adult child is difficult, especially if you’re not entirely certain they are safe. It is a heartache I would not wish on anyone. I miss Jerrod, but whether conversations and visits with him are part of the regular rhythm of my life or he is missing from my life, and I do not know where he is or how he is doing, I am thankful he is my son. His struggles have stretched my heart and expanded it with compassion. He has opened my eyes to the marginalized and deepened my desire to learn how to love them well.
If you do not know where your son or daughter is today, I hope you find consolation in the truth that God knows your child, and He sees them, even when we do not. I am not suggesting that erases all the pain. Sometimes peace and pain can coexist. So, I am comforted that God knows Jerrod; he created him and loves him as much as I do, and while I long hear from him, I trust that wherever he is, Jerrod is not alone.