Linda
Linda
Mental health was a part of her, it was not all of her
When Linda was growing up, she’d walk home from school and know when she wouldn’t see her mom for a few days. She’d look at her mom’s bedroom window.
If the shade was down, it meant she was in bed.
Linda’s mom, Fannette, who had bipolar disorder (back then, known as manic-depressive illness) would take to her room to be alone. Only the doctor was allowed to come in to give her “an injection to take away the pain.”
Despite these experiences, Linda always felt she, her brother, and her sister, were well cared for. Her mother ensured this.
When Fannette was struggling, there were other caring adults around, such as Linda’s grandparents or the family’s cleaning lady, Mrs. Smith, who was like a grandmother to Linda and her siblings.
Growing up, I knew that mom went to a psychiatrist, she was on medication, and she struggled with migraines.
When Linda’s mom was doing well, she was very caring. Linda says that because her father traveled often for his work in sales, and because she was the youngest child, she and her mother were especially close.
We understood each other. We shared the same sense of humor.
Her mom was a very active parent who supported Linda’s endeavors, such as the Girl Scouts. Linda’s cousins found their Aunt Fannette to be a dependable and caring person.
Linda recalls that when she was growing up, her home phone rang several times each day because friends and neighbors relied on her mother’s good listening skills.
When Linda reached her teens, her mom’s condition became more severe, and she spent time in hospitals, including McLean. Fannette’s mental health condition was not something that was hidden, though.
I don’t remember anyone ever trying to hide it. My mom had close friends, and there was family that would take her to the psychiatrist.
Her mom was never afraid to ask for help or to receive it.
Mental health struggles were a part of her. It was not all of her.
Once Linda was an adult, Fannette would feel guilty and say she had been a terrible mother. But Linda didn’t think her mom was a terrible parent at all.
When I was at summer camp, I received a letter from her every day.
She never got to go to college, she never got to do certain things, and she encouraged me to have those experiences.
And we just had fun together. I always felt that she was there for me.
Once, when her mom was at McLean, Linda wrote a letter—a list of all the values her mom had taught her.
Accept people for who they are, accept myself for who I am, you can always depend on your mother…
She gave the letter to her mom while she was in the hospital. She would later read it at her mom’s funeral.
For a few decades, Fannette went through a stable period, but in her mid-60s, medication stopped working for her.
Her mental health condition returned and manifested as severe anxiety. She ended up in psychiatric hospitals a few more times.
It was scarier for my brother, sister, and me because we were adults at that point, and we were the ones who were going to have to take care of it.
Those were challenging years. Fannette moved into assisted living, but Linda made sure the two still had special times—the two of them together, as always.
They would take trips to the beach, sit in the sand, and talk as they looked out onto the ocean.
Linda’s mom died seven years ago. Linda is glad her mom didn’t have to see her daughter endure her greatest challenges: a painful divorce and lymphoma.
When Linda experienced her own depression from cancer and struggled again during menopause, she did not hesitate to seek therapy and take medication.
Her mother had served as a good role model.
