Caught in the Web of My Mother's Psychosis

By Marilyn T. Evans

Being mentally ill is a lifelong battle of ups and downs, and not a lot of people understand or take the time to care to understand the mentally ill. Everyone are in a class of their own in the world which makes it extremely hard for the mentally ill and non-mentally ill to connect with one another. There are so many rules and regulations to follow for mental patients and their friends and family to know and live by. Finding a balance for such can be very hard.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Page Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Jul 19, 2022
• ISBN: 9781662481031

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Caught in the Web of My Mother's Psychosis

Marilyn T. Evans

Copyright © 2022 Marilyn T. Evans

All rights reserved

First Edition

PAGE PUBLISHING

Conneaut Lake, PA

First originally published by Page Publishing 2022

ISBN 978-1-6624-8102-4 (pbk)

ISBN 978-1-6624-8103-1 (digital)

Printed in the United States of America

Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Introduction

This book was written in memory of Betty Sue Evans, who was a troubled but lovable paranoid schizophrenic, who meant no harm at most times but meant well. However, things just didn’t go right on her behalf because of her mental illness. She was always misunderstood and definitely misunderstood others because of her mental state.

Mental illness is not some switch that you can turn on or off on a sick person or people. It’s the way of life for most and their families, especially their children, who experience bizarre cases of mental illness displayed in the lives of their parents. A disorder that forces itself into the brain and takes over the lives of the person it attaches itself to and affects everyone who comes in contact with the mentally ill person, who is doing the best they can to function normally.

This book is not to gain pity but to hopefully help others embrace their family member, regardless of the hardship and, hopefully, laugh through the painful times. Because we can now look back and laugh about the good, frustrating days with Mother Betty.

Chapter 1

I never really told anyone my story except close friends. Most of my own relatives never knew I was a child who mostly raised herself. My mother was around, but she was mentally ill, and she had help from her oldest sister to raise me in my early childhood, along with some older cousins.

I stayed with my grandma, on my dad’s side, and an aunt for a short period of time before being with my mom’s side of the family. The strangest thing about it was that no one ever said my mom was mentally ill. It was just swept under the rug, I guess, and made it seem as if she was drunk. Maybe it was to protect me. I don’t know. But every time she acted out with her mental behavior, they would always ask if she’s drunk and tell her she shouldn’t be drinking. My aunt would just say she’s in the hospital whenever I’d ask for my mommy and never could get more than that answer.

Maybe because I was so little and back then in the South, you don’t ask a lot of questions to the adults, just take the answer and leave it as it is if you’re not old enough because it could lead to a smack in the mouth for seeming like you’re being disrespectful.

I knew my mom loved me, wherever she was. I used to get all kinds of chocolate sweets in the mail, and sometimes white chocolate. My aunt would say, Chile, you gonna have a rotten mouth if your mama keep sending this stuff. I’d laugh and spin around on the floor eating my chocolate.

As I got a little older, I soon finally left Warm Springs, Georgia, from my aunt’s house to live back with my mom. Everything was back to normal. I still didn’t have much of a clue on why I was separated from her to live with others, however, I had gathered my own conclusions from listening to the grown-ups gossip and making remarks to themselves when they thought I wasn’t listening. By the time I was eight to ten, I noticed things were going on that reminded me of some things happening when I was a little younger before going to live with relatives. Things had gotten to be very difficult at the house in Atlanta than other families.

Every day there were newspapers taped to the windows, and I was told not to mess with it. I would ask why, but mom would say, Don’t worry about it, just don’t touch. Now when it came to my older brother, he never had newspaper in his room on his windows. It was just me and mom and elsewhere. My brother’s room was always in thick smoke from the smell of incense burning every day, with candles burning in a tin pan, that I was also told not to touch.

There was salt sprinkled on the floor and around the bed, which was so annoying, but it became the norm again. I remembered from being maybe five or six that this was the original way things were before I was moved out of the house. And, things like clothes were always packed up in boxes. Boxes covered with sheets, but neatly though. Nothing was ever sloppy looking.

My mom also burned candles that I couldn’t touch, and they would have different meaning because of the colors, and they would dress these candles and chat over them with things they would want on to have done on