I want to tell
someone about the second worst thing that ever happened to me. One
day, a bomb went off. My brother, Evan, went insane when I was 8
years old. I didn’t know what was happening. Evan was really smart.
He taught himself calculus in high school, and he had a full
scholarship to the University of Texas. A free ride. Then, one day,
he snapped. Dad was out in the garden, and Evan clobbered him on the
head with a croquet mallet. I remember Dad running into the house
and telling Mom to call the police, a big red mark on his head. Mom
said it was the hardest thing she’d ever done: calling the police on
one of her own children. I’m not even sure what happened next. I
remember the police showed up, and they talked to Evan. They were
standing outside my window, and the officer was asking him questions.
“Why did you do it?” “I don’t know.” “Are you hearing
voices? What are they telling you?” The cops took Evan to the
hospital. Dad, Mom, Jon, and Greg went along. The next thing I
remember is Jon telling me, “The doctors said he’s paranoid
schizophreic.” What followed… Waking in the middle of the night,
hearing voices yelling, “Evan! Evan!” My family, the police, and
even the neighbors were searching for him. All of them yelling out
his name. I guess they eventually found him, because he was back
home. And Dad called an exorcist. Thr exorcist asked Evan what his
name was, nd Evan replied, “I am Legion, for we are many.”
Whether you want to attribute it to spiritual forces or science, the
event destroyed our family.
How is Evan doing now?
If there is psychosis in your family - I recommend you read up on “prevening schizophrenia” about the factors that science is showing increases risk of schizophrenia in your children or you:
He’s doing better. That was like, 36 years ago. I’m 44. I know it sounds silly, but I start bawling every time I try to talk about it. Like now. It’s like a bomb went off, and the shrapnel went everywhere. I used to barricade the door to my bedroom, but he still got in, and tried to rape me. I don’t blame him. I know he was sick. He still is. He’s on medication. But all he does is sit and do word puzzles. He had such a brilliant mind, and now it’s totally gone.
I guess that’s one reason I don’t have any children. I refuse to, A doctor diagnosed me with schizophrenia over 20 years ago, and i don’t want to risk passing it on. So I have to be alone. I can’t have anyone in my life, except for family. I guess I should count my blessings. At least I’m not totally gone, Ar least I’m not running around out in the cornfields with a shard of glass, threatening to kill everyone. Yes, it’s a sad story.
It was horrible. Horrible beyond imagining. I’m sorry if my posts don’t follow your rules. My brother Jon and Even were best friends. And Jon said he was forced to sit in the basement and watch Evan go insane. Evan had to be watched 24/7. And that was Jon’s job - to watch his best friend go insane. There are no words. Just wanted to talk about it.
i remember Evan built a telescope out of two mirrors, a tin tube, and two old tire rims. He couldn’t have been more than 15. Yep - he was that smart Pretty amazing. I remember looking at the moon, the three satellites of Jupiter, and Saturn through that telescope. So sad, to see such a mind disappear…
At 18, he was declared a ward of the state. Not even his family could take care of him. No one could. He ended up in St. Peter. A mental health facility about 50 miles north of here. It’s sad, but it’s kind of a joke around here. People ending up in St. Peter. It’s not funny. But people think it is.
Smart move…
Yep, same here, every night
Yes, Many here can understand that…
Thank you. It helps to know I’m not the only one, Who pushed his desk and chair against against the door. Every night,
Yes, having children is out of the question for me. My older brother is severely, terminally schizophrenic; and I was diagnosed with it as well. What is the likelihood that one of my children would develop it? 70%? Sad to say, but I consider not having children to be one of the greatest accomplishments of my life.
Yep, it is…
It’s a hard pill to swallow. I’d like to pass on something of me, but I can’t. It’s like I’d be holding a gun to my child’s head, and asking, “Can you take it? Can you handle the insanity?” I just can’t do that. I can’t subject another mind to it. It’s just not possible for me.
Im with you there for sure, its fucked up…
I feel you there. No one else can understand what it’s like. One day, someone you love, and you don’t even know you love, because you don’t what the lack of love is, goes bonkers. And you’re left with the shreds of reality. Raw. Stripped of skin. Police. Neighbors running through the cornfields. Shards of glass. Blood. Barricaded doors. Sorry, Not a pretty story. Just wanted to get it out there.
Thanks for listening. It helped to talk about it.
Are you getting treatment now - or have you gotten help with this issue, or do you think the doctor was wrong?
Talking about all this has been exhausting. More than I thought it would be. I read through what I’ve written, and just bawl my eyes out. But I may as well continue.
One day, Evan attacked my grandpa. My grampa was probly in his 70s. He was working
on the combine (farming family). And Evan just attacked him. 75 year
old man against a 20 year old kid. Guess who won. My
grampa nearly died. Broken ribs and a concussion, The doctor asked Grampa what happened, and my
grampa said he just fell down. The doctor told the rest of the family
he didn’t fall down. The doctor said someone did that to him. Now you
know why I barricaded my room every night. I was terrified.
The doctor was both right and wrong. When the bomb goes off, it hits everyone. You can’t separate yourself from it, even if you want to. No, I’m not receiving treatment. I wouldn’t know where to go, or who to talk to.
I feel better. I feel worse. I don’t know which is worse. I could say a lot more, but I’m tired of crying. Thanks for listening.
A psychologist would probably be a good start, or a psychiatrist - they can be really helpful in these situations.