It has been a long night. The evening started with my mother just stopping by for a visit. We talked for a good hour and I fixed us some pizza for supper. Mom was just starving.
Soon, there was a knock on my door. I opened it and Joyce almost fell into my house. She was resting her head on the door.
"Something's bad wrong with me," she said as she came inside carrying her medications.
Me and mom both tried in vain to get her to take her nightly medications. She would raise her voice and say we were out to hurt her.
"I know y'all think I am crazy," she kept saying over and over very loudly to the point it scared Maggie.
My father finally got involved and we got her home, in her pajamas, and in the bed. I had managed to convince her to take her anti-psychotic, Risperdal, earlier. It took awhile for it to take affect as it will make you very sleepy.
"You come over and get in the bed in my spare bedroom if you get scared," I told her, holding her hand.
Me and dad left when she finally turned off her bedroom lights. I turned off the TV, locked the backdoor, and Dad and I escaped back to my house.
I now know how it feels to be on the other side, the flip-side, of someone with mental illness. It is exasperating as you try to talk some sense and reason into a mentally ill person. I have a much greater empathy tonight for what my ex-wife and family went through all those years I wouldn't take my medications.