Hi, Seska! It's great to see you!

Hi!

(I have resolved to be here a bit more. I miss you all!)

Serious question. How do I convince someone that mental illness is real?

Ugh. That sounds... awful - what she's dealing with in terms of the illness, and also in terms of the stigma.

Can you give friend stuff to read, that makes it clear that, while some people can 'buck up' when dealing with problems, that's a lot harder when there's a real illness involved?

I can try that Seska. And clearly a chance in doctors is required, Calli. Of course knowing who is going to be a good one and getting mom to go are challenges.

Partly I think that my friend is overwhelmed after 6 months of care in her home and is in denial herself at this point.

Laura, I think your suspicion of fatigue is probably right. Add to that, a short-term thing would make an adult child feel useful, needed, and good about herself. But a long-term commitment like that brings out some resentment of having to parent a parent, with no parent there to support the daughter.

I hope that was follow-able. It's a very real thing to feel, in that situation, and the daughter may not even be consciously aware of it. But addressing it with a counselor, or even a trusted, knowledgeable friend, could be helpful.

I certainly wish the best, for both of them.

I support everything Calli and Beverly have said.

Compassion fatigue is just as real a thing as mental illness and though I would not advocate for equating the two, it might be useful to focus on coping skills for long-term caregivers.

There are often resources in hospital patient support programs...groups, readings, respite care, etc.

A different doctor is a good idea too, if that is possible. Sometimes, care plans become super entrenched in despair and new energy can help.

The thing is, convincing the daughter about the reality of mental illness is probably not actually possible and distracts from the true need here, which is to support the daughter in dealing with the reality of the situation.

In truth, if she thinks her mother is faking for attention, or whatever, there is something far deeper going on that can only be addressed if the daughter believes in the possibility of feeling differently.

In the meanwhile, I'm sending good thoughts for the mom.

I think the doctor's attitude is also informing your friend's attitude. He clearly doesn't think it's a big deal, so why should she?

We went to see Hubby's sister the other day, had a genial chat, when out of the blue she turns to me and says, "I'm so grateful you didn't leave him." I blinked at her in shock. "So many women would have just left him after he was diagnosed," she went on, "and you could have done that--" "No, I couldn't!" I said. "--but you've stuck with him, and I'm just so grateful." I looked at Hubby, and he just kind of shrugged, and we moved on.

Yes, there are horrific homo sapiens out there who abandon people when life gets tough, but I profoundly resented the thought that I would have considered such a thing. That she thinks I contemplated that choice utterly boggles me. She meant it in all approval, but damn.

"I'm so grateful you didn't leave him." I blinked at her in shock.

I got this A LOT when Stephen was diagnosed with AIDS. Including from his family members. His brother pretty much yelled at him and called him a selfish jerk for not immediately divorcing me and setting me free. That kind of thing never crossed my mind. Not only did I believe in the whole in sickness and in health thing, but there was nowhere else in the world I wanted to be. Of course it just added to his wrongheaded sense of guilt for putting me through it, like he had a choice here.

"I'm so grateful you didn't leave him." I blinked at her in shock.

I'm pretty sure you're not Newt Gingrich.

Some people do that, though. We have a friend whose husband left her after she was diagnosed with terminal brain cancer. "I didn't sign on for this" were his words. She eventually made a miraculous recovery and has been happily remarried for 10 years, but, man.

Of course it just added to his wrongheaded sense of guilt for putting me through it, like he had a choice here.

This. Oh, this. Hubby, shut up already.