The Village

I cannot begin to name all the people who have helped me raise my children. As a single mom of 3 boys whose ages cover a 10-year span, I was always thanking some parent or friend for coming to my rescue when I needed to be in more than one place at one time. But as my family was torn apart by mental illness there were a handful of people who went above and beyond. This is my thank you to the village, all of those who stepped up when my kids needed them.

I first became aware of an issue around 2007. I began to feel that there was a surreptitious plan in the works of which I was being kept ignorant. I was certain people were talking in code around me to keep the surprise. In the beginning, I thought it must be something good, so I went along, waiting for the surprise party, the proposal from a crush I had never dated, or some benefit I couldn’t imagine. I could feel it in my bones, something was brewing. Time passed and nothing came to fruition. Then it became serious. I began to feel responsible for negative occurrences. I was in line at the grocery store when the power went out and I was certain it was my fault. I worked in a high school and suddenly emergency drills felt like I had triggered them with some random act. I began to feel the strain. I would cry for no apparent reason in a classroom filled with students, leave the building without permission when the stress became too great, or just not show up to work, feeling they would be better off without me. When the assistant principal confronted me, I sat tearfully in her office promising to mend my ways never explaining what I felt was at stake.

My downfall was I never totally lost touch with reality. I knew the thoughts I was having would sound crazy to someone else and that was the problem. If I had told someone what I really thought, I would have gotten help but I kept it to myself. There was a part of me that believed that the conspiracy I saw in play was tied to my job, a competition for school funding that involved the greater community and somehow I was an unwitting pawn. So I figured if I gave up my job, the trouble would end.

Of course, my issues only got worse. With no income, my children and I lost our apartment. My oldest son Nick, age 25, moved in with a friend, my middle child, Richard, age 20 had a dorm room at college but Jacob, my youngest at 15, was in high school as we faced homelessness. We moved to the suburbs of Chicago to live with my sister in my deceased parents' home. Jacob had been enrolled in Chicago Public Schools. We classified him as homeless so he could continue there but eventually, the school told me I needed to enroll him in the suburban school or find a way to move back into the city.

That’s when his brother Nick, offered to take him. I would later discover that dealing with my mental illness on his own, Jacob became depressed and confessed to his brother that he was feeling suicidal. Nick didn’t have his own apartment, he rented a room from someone else but he agreed to take Jacob and the two of them lived for a year in a tiny room with Nick committed to parental duties. I had read Dave Eggers’ “Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius” in which an older brother serves as a parent to his sibling with disastrous results and could picture the trouble my sons were getting into. I felt like a failure.

During this time, I searched for jobs, but any time I came close, the pressure would get to me. In July of 2015, I hit rock bottom. I had feelings of worthlessness because I couldn’t offer my children the support I felt they deserved and then I began hearing voices, auditory hallucinations. I checked myself into a hospital and finally told them how I felt that I was responsible for things that should be out of my control, how I would stand transfixed on a street corner for hours, in tears, fearful that my slightest move would cause someone harm. It took 2 days for the medication to work. I couldn’t believe I had spent 8 years in agony when it could have been so easily fixed if I had only been honest. The hospital kept me for 2 weeks to make sure I was stable.

While I was in the hospital, Richard was due to return home having graduated from college and finishing his summer job. He had initially planned on staying with me while he found permanent employment and a place to live but I was in the hospital and my sister, who was in the process of selling our parents’ house, was out of town searching for her new home. That’s when Kit Gill and Steve Froikin came into the picture. Their son Cal was a year behind Richard in college and called his parents who opened their home to a young man they had met only a handful of times. Not only while I was in the hospital but also for that following year while their own son was away at school. Richard fondly recounts fajita night and mud pie, how Kit could take a stray remark and act on it, buying him a book he had mentioned in passing that moved him and how Steve’s deadpan humor cracked him up. They made what could have been a hard time much easier. It was enough that they treated my son like family but they invited me to family gatherings and nurtured our relationship to the point where years later we still get together on a regular basis. Kit is now one of my dearest friends, her humor and kindness know no bounds. She comes to the aid of numerous friends and neighbors, keeping in touch with one of her son’s former girlfriends because “she needed someone on her side”. Steve is a writer and we often share stories of our journey and though it is his profession he is full of inspiration for me, an amateur. He is also an attorney and volunteers his time representing aliens in danger of deportation. Richard’s life is richer for having known them.

Upon my release from the hospital and with a portion of the proceeds from the sale of my parents’ home, I rented a small apartment for me and Jacob within the city limits and convenient to his high school, for his senior year. I needed to rebuild my relationship with him but even though I was now medicated, he felt responsible for me again and the stress began to take its toll on him. Although I recognized the signs of depression in Jacob, he was slow to seek treatment and I was not equipped to argue with him. Melynda Kroeger was Jacob’s school case manager. Melynda is one of those professionals all the students love and her Facebook page proves it. She stuck by him pushing him to graduate, offering a shoulder to cry on and even found him an outfit for prom when I couldn’t afford one. Melynda’s help was so all-encompassing that Jacob wants to work in schools so that he can offer that kind of support to someone else. We still stay in touch updating her on Jacob’s progress.

At the end of that school year, things were looking dire for Jacob. I still had not found a job and the money from the sale of the house was dwindling. We could no longer afford our apartment and as I prepared to live in my car, I suggested Jacob find a better option. He turned to his friends whose parents each agreed to allow Jacob to stay for a while. It began with the Siebens, his friend Ethan’s family. Jacob describes Craig Sieben, Ethan’s dad, as frenetic, a hard-working professional who at the time owned his own company. Craig was not afraid to kick back and have some fun even though he worked hard. Amy, his wife, was more achievement-oriented and Jacob got a first-hand look at how their strengths and weaknesses affected the family. Jacob, having always been poor, had crossed their threshold with some prejudices about people with money but came away understanding that everyone has trials and money doesn’t change people who are stable in the first place. Ethan helped Jacob get a job so that he was able to save money and eventually afford his own apartment. Craig is still a force in Jacob’s life and he considers him a surrogate father and role model.

Next, Jacob’s friend Maurice offered him a place to stay. Maurice’s mother, Carmen Evans was a single mom whose own mother had been a Black Panther. I first met Carmen when Jacob and I had our apartment and Maurice wanted to spend the night. Carmen asked to meet me so she could see with whom her teenage son would be staying. We had a lovely conversation and Carmen invited us to Thanksgiving dinner. Carmen and Maurice were survivors of Hurricane Katrina and had remade their home in Chicago. Carmen was intelligent and driven with a high-pressure job but she was also overwhelmed. Jacob saw how she tried to gain control of her life by controlling her son who then rebelled. Maurice appreciated having Jacob there because it took some of the pressure off. Carmen was kind-hearted and generous opening her home not only to Jacob but also stray cats. They gave him a glimpse into another kind of family.

Jacob’s final stay was with Julia Baker and Bill Spranger. Their daughter, Jill, had been Jacob’s girlfriend for a year and a half. Julia works for the Federal Reserve and Jacob described her as a sweet ex-punk who was outspoken, loving and motherly. Bill was quirky and passionate with an artistic soul. Jacob says he remembers him most often in the basement creating things out of trash. Jacob’s father and I divorced when he was only 4 so Julia and Bill provided an example of what a loving relationship could be. They lived in a modest home and although they were comfortable Jacob saw that love and family were key dynamics over monetary wealth. He called his stay with them life-affirming. Julia and Jacob still keep in contact through social media even though he is no longer dating her daughter and the skills he learned there will serve him in relationships throughout his life.

None of these people ever asked him for a dime even though he was working a minimum wage job and Jacob gained a wealth of insight about people and family dynamics by being a part of 3 different families. The richness they brought to his life is immeasurable. Without a village, my sons' lives would be drastically different. Richard is now a teacher, a profession he was able to pursue with Kit and Steve’s support and Jacob, who I am convinced wouldn’t have graduated high school without Melynda, is currently attending Chicago City Colleges with the intent to transfer to a 4-year school soon and then go on to earn his MSW. Nick who has become the black sheep in our family works as a forklift driver for a document storage company and prefers to keep to himself, a choice we respect though I miss him. And I am eternally grateful to many people I barely knew or had never met for treating my children as their own.