This morning, I made it to Quaker meeting, which starts at 10am. For all of the Sundays in December,  I either was too slow to awake in the morning, or opted for meditation in the woods with my coffee and my dog. But is was so pleasant to sit in communion with many people, in a warm living room, gathered around a central candle. As I stared into this candle, I thought of a conversation that I had had with my four year-old niece several days before, where I was attempting to explain my husband’s physical disability. She was entranced, as I carefully described the anatomy of the spine, and attempted to explain how the brain and the nervous systems work. I then had to explain how the vertebrae had developed what we call bone spurs, and had filled in, pinching the very important spinal cord that makes Steve’s body move. The doctor cut him open, and cleaned the spurs out, putting the bones back together with screws. I then found myself trying to explain how a screw works, and we got little off track. I have no idea what her four year-old mind retained from this conversation, but she remains compassionate and concerned for Steve and what ails him. On the ferry ride the other day to visit her grandparents and great aunts in Anacortes, she drew a picture of Steve with him beneath a rainbow with his cane. She said that she drew it for him because he was not well. Steve’s been having some spells, and we are currently in the process of deducing what the actual trouble is.

So, as I sat by the fire in Quaker meeting, my mind stretched to a question that I have asked myself several times before, and quandered deeply, but I have never been able to come up with a good solid answer to. How do I explain my mental disability to my niece? As we often need to do, I decided to start with the building blocks that we already have in place. Steve has a disability. He walks with a cane. His very important spinal cord that comes out of the brain, which is in the head, and tells the rest of the body what to do, was injured and worn down. My issue resides inside of the brain. Inside of the brain, within this nerve tissue that tells the body what to do, are something that we call chemicals. Chemicals are in everything. They are in the rocks, they are in our food, and they are the basic ingredients in our bodies as well. I have a problem with the chemicals inside my brain. Because chemicals are what make up everything in our bodies and the world, we can think of it like the ingredients of god. In a way, I have a hole, like the one that is in the vertebrae that Steve’s spinal cord passes through, in the god chemicals of my brain.

Now, you may see an issue with me saying that I have a deficit in my god particles, but bear with me for a moment. Again, I am having this conversation with Ada, in my mind, during a meditation at Quaker meeting, and sometimes we must flow with what comes out of our brains that are filled with these god chemicals/particles. Back to the hole, I need to take medicine to make my brain work better. Our brains, like in Steve’s body, don’t only make our bodies move, they also contain our emotions and thoughts, like when we are sad or happy. Sometimes our thoughts tell us what is real and what is not real. My brain isn’t able to tell me what is real or not real, because of the hole. I take medicine to make this hole better. Because the hole is missing god chemicals, the medicine that I take has to go inside my brain and mend the hole. These pills or medicines are like little angels that weave blankets to make the hole feel and work better, just like Yanya (grandmother Sheila), makes on her loom. The way that all of the strings that Yanya weaves together make a blanket, so can the medicine make the strings in my brain go back into place. The angels take the god chemicals, and weave them to patch the holes, just the way Yanya does down in her studio, while you watch and play store.

Now, just like there are good and bad angels, there are also good and bad chemicals for our brains. I go to a doctor, so I can get the best help, and take the best medicine that is out there. My brain’s hole means that I need more blankets, so that I can grow back the good chemicals, just the way Steve is now able to grow back his spinal cord after the doctor went in and made more space. Over time, the blankets that the angels weave, will cover the tiny holes inside of my head, and my brain will learn to make some of the blankets. With the medicine, and the new blankets, I don’t have scary thoughts, or upset emotions. Maybe, I will need the help of the angels for a very long time, or maybe I will get better and need less medicine if I take good care of my emotions and my feelings, and try and think good thoughts that make me feel safe. The blankets help my brain work better. My upset emotions, and my scary thoughts come from inside my brain, and from god chemicals, like the strings in a blanket, not doing what they are supposed to do. It is like they are broken, and the angels in the medicine fix the holes with beautiful blankets made of much needed chemicals. 

Steve also hopes to improve with time. Just like he uses a cane and does exercises to make his body stronger, I too can do mental exercises, like meditation, to be better. But, just like he needs a cane when he is too weak, so do I need my angel chemicals to weave blankets, so my brain and emotions feel better, and so I am able to hold myself up; just the way Steve’s cane makes him walk better.

So yes, there are things we can take and do to make us better when we have mental (me) or physical (Steve) problems with our bodies. Because of science, we have chemical medicines and canes. This makes our lives much more livable.

I know that this still is all very complicated, but we learn and integrate through metaphors. I may learn new ways and metaphors to explain mental illness to a child, but one as observant and intelligent as my niece, Ada, I feel deserves as complete an explanation as possible. This is not only doable, it is necessary. Perhaps, I greatly lack in how to describe mental illness in a simple fashion, because I myself do not fully understand the nature of my illness, why I have it, where it came from, how to treat it in a comprehensive fashion, or what really is going on. I believe that if we were better able to explain mental illness to ourselves and to our children, then we as a society could raise more awareness and compassion around this pertinent issue.