#FreeBritney or #ProtectBritney?

My phone chimes, 6:20 a.m. text reads, “Good morning,” along with a smiling sun face emoji. It’s my usual morning greeting I look forward to every day. It’s my daughter. The one that allowed me to have a voice and write about our life during the time our hearts were ripped out. It’s been eight years since her first born daughter died from Zellweger Disorder. Zellweger is a biogenesis cell disorder for which there is no cure. Our angel died from lack of ability to absorb nutrition and eliminate waste from her body’s cells during the course of her short life. This triggered mental illness, PTSD with onset of bipolar disorder for her, and PTSD with onset of severe depression for me. Later, my PTSD would include many challenges and medication changes for this precious daughter that brightens my every morning.

I have been watching the #FreeBritney movement with mixed emotions. Every case is unique. We don’t know all the details of what her parents went through to keep her safe from predators. Britney’s money and fame are factors that contribute to dangers that most of us can not imagine. While I want independence for my daughter and for everyone, there are times when an episode can put their lives at risk as vulnerable adults. I hope you read my book. It will give you a deeper understanding of the complexities involved in keeping someone safe during a mental illness crisis.

I push the thoughts of Britney out of my head and greet my daughter via text, “Good morning,” adding a smiling sun to my message. Soon my phone is ringing, and we begin our day.

“Hi mom, how’s your day?” my daughter asks through the hands free device as she makes her commute to work.

“Good for a Monday,” I say even though I work from home. On Monday I create a mindset of being disciplined to do tasks needed for my book marketing campaign these days. When she gave me permission to tell our story, she just asked me not to ask her to participate in the process. She does, however, allow me to tell the general struggles. “What do you have scheduled today?”

“My boss is out of the office today. I have a new hire coming in to start orientation. Nothing too hard. What are you doing?”

“I want to tell what happened last winter during that rainstorm. The time that man from the shelter was having a crisis and the police came. He went to the hospital, and they would not admit him. Said he wasn’t saying he was going to harm himself or others, so they put him out on the streets in the freezing rain. This man had around twenty scarves around his neck and layers of clothing that were filthy. He was obviously mentally ill, but our hospital said they don’t have beds for psychiatric patients and declined to help this man. Ms. Sarah drove around trying to find him after, but we never found him.”

“That was terrible,” my daughter sympathizes.

“Then there was the veteran under the I-55 overpass that Ms. Sarah and I tried to help, but he wouldn’t let us help him. I contacted a crisis counselor, a former homeless veteran himself, who tried to help, but the man said he had been homeless for 10 years. He was too paranoid and ill to cooperate,” I share.

“I know mom. I am glad you are trying to help,” she encourages. She tells me of her tentative work schedule for today. I also ask about my granddaughter’s choice of clothes this morning. She has her own ideas of what to wear. I tell her about my goals for the day and some of the art projects I have started. We have a good talk and give each other encouragement before hanging up as she reaches her work destination.

I am grateful that I still have my daughter alive, after the challenges we went through during her episodes. If you read my book, you will see and feel what we experienced.

May you never lose hope, and may you find peace wherever you go.

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