CW: psychosis, depression, mentions of hospitalization, parent minimization of mental illness

Hello! My name is Kirpa, I’m a 23-year-old author and social worker in San Francisco and I’ve been living with Schizoaffective Disorder since I was around 12 years old. You can hear more of my story on S3E4 of the Brown Taboo Project, and also read a bit about it in my fictional book, Reality Check.

When you live with psychosis, a condition that puts your reality through a kaleidoscope, you become an unreliable narrator in your own story. You’re constantly second-guessing what is real, who to believe, and what’s worth believing in.

As someone who was an unreliable narrator of her own story for 5 years, I have first-hand experiences with this. I endured unchecked psychosis AND symptoms of bipolar disorder for 5 years. It wasn’t until I was properly medicated, with a proper support system, that I became healthy enough to be the person I am today and received the diagnosis that accurately describes my experience— schizoaffective disorder.

So much goes into helping someone live successfully with a mental health condition, but one thing that universally helps is a strong support system. When I first started my journey to thriving with a mental illness, finding people who wanted to support me wasn’t an issue. The issue lay in teaching people how to support me because the ways they thought were best were actually harmful.

For example, my mom has always believed in eating almonds before school to have a strong and healthy brain. However, once I began to exhibit signs of a mental illness, the number of almonds doubled as she attempted to replace my medications with “home remedies.” The reason for this was because of the stigma surrounding medication and the idea that I would become addicted to them. Beyond that, I think my mom also had this idea that if she ignored my illness when she could, if she treated me as if nothing was different and that I was still the daughter she knew pre-breakdown, then things would be fine. I think this was due in part to the fact that she didn’t want to believe I was going through something so horrific, not because she didn’t believe me, but because it was a very very hard pill to swallow and her perception of mental illness was very different from reality. As a result, my grades were expected to stay as stellar as they had always been (spoiler: they didn’t) and I was still expected to push through my depression most days and go to school with a smile. While there’s nothing wrong with that, and while that may be good for some people (including me some days), I needed her to adapt to my illness–not ignore it.

It was a battle between two well-meaning attempts at peace.

My dad on the other hand had the most unintentionally harmful approach – strictness and invalidation. My dad was raised with a rigid, harsh, and traditional Indian mentality, so of course he thought that he was helping by being stricter with me, by being harsher, and by basically telling me I needed to be stronger to beat this. I thought It was a pretty classic, outdated, Indian mentality to have so I just ignored him whenever I could. But sometimes it was at a point where I couldn’t ignore it and just ended up running to my room crying or shutting down emotionally. You may be wondering how his efforts could possibly be perceived as trying to help, but it’s really a difference between intent and impact. My dad has never intended to hurt me but he reacted in the best way he knows how given the way he was raised and what he was taught about mental health. He was raised to think that mental health conditions presented in the ways that popular media outlets portray them as: scary and life ending. And once again, what parents are going to willingly believe their seemingly “normal” child has a mental health condition when they are supposed to look scary, and be life ending?

Both parents were two prime examples of trying to show support but instead causing harm. It wasn’t until I was almost hospitalized the summer after my freshman year of college that my parents realized something needed to change.

I don’t think my mom will ever tell me grades aren’t important, and I don’t think she’ll ever abandon the nuts craze, but after that summer my mom made exceptions. She adjusted her standards based on what I was actually capable of at the time and we compromised, which, in the end, allowed me to do really well in school. My grades picked up after that summer, going from an overall GPA of under 2.5 to finishing with just over a 3.0. I even made the Dean’s list twice in my last two trimesters, which I’m very proud of!

My dad was also there through these adjustments, improving his approach as well. He went from invalidating and denying my need for psychiatric care to making sure I was taking my medications as prescribed. He also has not talked about getting stronger in an invalidating way, nor has he told me my issues can be resolved by “mind over matter” methods. Instead, he focuses on tangible ways I can take care of myself, like being active and definitely coming home to see him and my mom as often as possible. I find it endearing that he thinks house visits are as effective as doctor visits, but honestly I think he might be right.

While it’s unfortunate that it took a near hospitalization to get my parents to come around, the effects are all that matter to me, and I am now at a place where I can look past those trying times. 

But for the parents who want to learn how to support their kids without such a traumatizing wake-up call, I encourage you to listen to your children. 

When they say enough is enough, don’t push them to a breaking point. Listen. 

When your children are brave enough to confide in you and say they need help, listen. 

When your child is having a rough time with whatever they're battling, listen. Validate the hardship and don’t compare their experience to whatever you or others may have been through.

Comparisons are the enemy of good listening because every person, every experience is unique. Don’t compare one child to another, and don’t even compare a child in the present to their past selves. 

“You used to be so happy” 

“You used to be so different.” 

Some of these things my parents used to do, but they have now replaced them with listening and empathetic and caring responses to my confessions and problems. While they aren’t perfect in their approach (who is?), I appreciate when they ask me questions and try to understand my illness. I appreciate when they acknowledge that I have a hard time in certain situations. I love when they let me live my life how I need to in order to thrive by my standards and not theirs.

One thing I felt was a big sign of their denial of my illness was their refusal to tell anyone outside our immediate family about it. While I wanted to become an advocate and share my experiences, my parents were afraid of what going public with my experience would do to me and our family. Again, another well-meaning intent (safety and security) with a bad impact (me feeling shunned and ashamed).

After years of talking it through, however, my parents have actually supported me through my advocacy and through the publication process of my book, which is inspired by my experiences with my illness.

It’s taken a while, and it hasn’t been an easy road, but my parents have become my biggest supporters when it comes to my mental health. You should see the smiles on their faces when they say to their friends, “my daughter wrote a book on mental health. She’s helping the community, and one day, the world.”

They show my book off to their friends and they talk me up like I’m a celebrity and it’s so heartwarming, but I doubt anyone would believe how far they’ve come just by seeing where they are today. 

My support system wouldn’t be complete without my parents. Their constant outpouring of love is something that I could never replace. 

Love you more, mom and dad. 

Kirpa Singh is an author and Master's of Social Work student who enjoys long walks, cities, and traveling. She's also an ESFJ, a 2 and a Virgo. She can be found on Instagram at @writtenbykirpasingh or at her website.