In 1983, I was the new mother of a baby boy. I had no idea that his father would create conflict between the two of us because we were of two different religions, and for other irreconcilable differences between us. We had to get a divorce, and my son had to live with my parents.
Today my son is in his early twenties and a graduate with an engineering degree from a university. His father admires him greatly, and so do I. Now that my mother has passed away, and my father lives in a nursing home, my son visits his grandfather daily because he is grateful that my father financed his college education. I can see that my son, when he is ready for a career, will probably be offered a salary that would be beyond my own highest ambitions. He could start at $50,000 a year, without a doubt. Does this mean that I wish I was his age and could start allover again? Maybe, but I have achieved something too. I have fought hard to overcome the stigma of mental illness and the handicap of low self-esteem after I was diagnosed with a mental illness. I have had the fortune to be a member of Fountain House for 19 years where I have made loyal, lifelong friends who also have diagnoses. We are the veterans of a different kind of war, the War to Stay Sane when life has thrown us all kinds of curves and hardballs. Thank you Fountain House for giving me a career. They hired me in August 2006 to be a part-time residence counselor and are helping me to be a mother that my son can be proud of.