My Family Taught Me To Hide The Truth About My Brother. I Wish They Hadn't.
Huff PostThe author's brother is pictured as a young man. Photo By Mimi Nichter From the time I was 7, my mother instructed my older sister and me that if anyone asked how Joel was doing, we should tell them he was “fine.” Joel, my older brother, stayed in his room when people visited and didn’t go with us to see family. His disappointment and anger at Joel’s poor grades resulted in frequent scoldings, including “You idiot, why can’t you just be normal?” During the 1950s and ’60s, schizophrenia was regularly blamed on the mother’s parenting style — her rejection of her child during infancy and the years afterward. When asked if I had siblings, I’d say, “One sister.” My parents never met my college boyfriend, Mark, because that would have entailed bringing him to their house where Joel also lived, and I hadn’t told Mark about him. During one of Joel’s rare visits to Tucson, my close girlfriend came with us to explore shops for coin collecting, his lifelong hobby, and to dinner at the Golden Corral.
History of this topic
I Kept My Schizophrenia A Secret For 20 Years. Everything Changed When I Told A Friend.
Huff PostDiscover Related
