The Mysterious Stranger.

I’m sitting here trying to pull my thoughts together. I have a lot to say… but never the right words to pull out of my head. It’s difficult to share this.

Difficult to show the world my weakness and release my emotional side.. (usually I do that privately)

I know, some of you have read my blog from earlier on. A few true friends have been following me since the beginning .

(When I fell apart over a tragedy) and ended up having to close my blog due to media, and their relentless harassment to get a story.

I refused to give them one. Nor did I want to stir the pot with anything I wrote.

I silently walked away.

The stage went black, and my 600 followers with it.

It isn’t so much the followers, as it is the friendships you make.

(HuGZ my girl friends) you know who you are.

V, T & G.

Its tough to talk about my son. I have a mountain of “grief”.

I grieve him like he’s dead… 

You say….

He’s NOT dead Sybil Why the grief?

You don’t get it… nobody understands until they are in the same situation.

My son has been replaced with a mysterious “man” . A man I DON’T know.

He went from J, my son who had the brightest personality, a loving demeanor, a wonderful relationship with family and friends.
Reflects back...

He had patience, he was understanding, and HE LOVED everyone..

To a man who is peculiar and weird..

I feel my son died.. and he’s a walking Zombie. Forget the skin falling off ‘movie zombie” Im talking about a man who slowly talks, but not like “Forrest Gump”

He no longer has his wonderful mind.

He’s no longer gentle, bright, amusing, or fun to be around.

He’s dark, and speaks of demons and angels.

He glances back and forth trying to get a glimpse of the demons that  run rampant through his mind.

He is easily annoyed, temperamental,  often times crying for no reason.. heart wrenching sobs rack his body…

Staring off into space…

Smiling at nobody yet, according to him everyone.

Don’t you see them…?!

He reaches and smiles.

*His angels*

I ask.. Why you crying J?

He glances at me..a far off look in his eyes…

And mutters…

I’m so happy…

do you see them?

And my heart breaks a little more..

Is it possible to have so many broken pieces and still continue to live?

I swallow the lump in my throat.

My everyday life has changed.

I walk on eggshells when he’s home.

I hide the knives as instructed by his physiatrist, locked in my room within a safe I had to purchase in case he decided he was going to give away the few precious pieces of jewelry I had left from my grandmother.

He gave away his possessions before his first break.. or perhaps during his break.

I could accept this if he had been born this way.

But to have a normal loving man taken from me at the sweet age of 23, kills me.

I’m friggen BITTER damn it. IM ANGRY… and I HURT…. A LOT.

By society standards, my son is a criminal. Literally a felon.

If J, was in his right mind, he’d be horrified by the things he’s done.

Sitting in a jail cell, in a psyche ward. He’s not allowed to be un-cuffed, he walks with shackles on. He’s dangerous according to police.

I want to shout, you don’t know him like I do!!

You don’t know
how wonderful he was,
how gentle he was,
how caring he was.

I want to bang my fists against the guards chest and cry and say…

If you knew him last year you’d like him.. you’d say J, what happened…

You wouldn’t feel threatened by his height, or his weight, or his strength.

You’d know he was an actual teddy bear.

You’d know he was a gentle giant.

YOU’D KNOW DAMN IT!!!!

Now he’s a shell of a man, a man I don’t even know.

I can’t tell you how hurt I am.. How my heart aches when I see him through the 5” glass at the jail.

I can’t tell you how I envy those families who have normalcy with the 4 walls they live in.

I’m not striving for perfect. I’m striving for NORMAL.

I’m striving to regain my sons health back.

I’m striving to make people aware of Schizophrenia, and the effect it has on people.  Not just the mentally ill family member..

BUT the family as a whole.

His brothers, his aunt, his cousins, his dad, and lastly myself.

I’ve taken it hard… id rather sit in a cell then walk through that jail seeing what he’s up against…

A mother’s love, Id gladly give my life for his.

I’d gladly exchange brains with him.. if it were possible Id seek out the professional who could do it..

Id think nothing of it.

I’ve lived.. 42 years.. 42 years of a good life..

I’d give my precious son my last remaining breath…

I love you Jace.

<3 Mom.