The First Day

The First Day

“To ignore the evidence, and hope that it cannot be true, is more an evidence of mental illness
William Blase

A new morning breaks and the sun begins its ascent into the skies stretching across the countryside and I feel its warmth on my face as I open the curtains allowing the light to enter my home. I begin my morning routine of reflection, brewing coffee and getting ready for another day at work. The birds are waking from their nightly somber, leaving their nests in the trees, congregating in a central meeting area atop of a nearby fence, chattering as if they are discussing their plans before heading out to wherever they go for the day.  Feeling alone, I gaze at the horizon to the east knowing my destiny lies in that direction.

Anxiety has crept through my humble abode – there is a strange emptiness – my daughter is still asleep but my son’s bed is vacant. I walk into his room and sit on his bed wondering how it got to the point as if a nuclear bomb struck. Knowing that my son is a scientific experimenter, and not yet understanding what has been going on, I wonder what the plastic bags and tape were doing in his trash can.

I begin my twenty-five minute commute that typically includes listening to the radio and being somewhat irritable having to deal with heavy traffic, but knowing life is good and thinking about my plans for the evening.  However, today’s drive is different, I feel uncomfortable because my life has taken a sharp turn into a direction that truly frightens me.  My thoughts are scrambled and my nerves are on edge worrying about my son and his mental health.

At work, the hours crawl, the day is grueling and longer than any other day I have ever experienced; I just want it to end. I leave work early at 3:00 pm and race to my car with only one thought in mind, to tackle rush hour traffic to reach my destination, this time not home, but miles away to a dark place where I don’t want to be.

My mind races and I ask myself repeatedly:  What’s wrong with my son?  Why are they saying my son has a mental illness? I know what mental illness is, but what is it really?  What am I supposed to do?  Where do I go?  Who do I turn to?  Did I miss something in raising my son?  What did I do to make him end up in the mental ward at the hospital? Is all this my fault?

Questions continue to haunt me…

(¯`♥´¯) .♥.•*¨`*♫.•
´*.¸.*´♥  Peace & Light

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