Having an adult child who does well in life does not compensate for one who does not. That according to an article I recently read over the Internet. I agree with the author’s statement. Evan, my younger son, after some “what-should-I-do-with-my-life” years, started law school. He is now in his second year and likes it. I am somewhat surprised because he’s basically lazy (he will admit to that) but went ahead, anyway, and from what he tells me enjoys the challenge.
Of course, I am happy for him and relieved. There was a time I wondered if he would wind up like his brother since there is a genetic component involved in schizophrenia. I no longer worry since males generally get it from the ages 15 to 25. (He is 28.) For females it often begins later, even into their 30’s.
But seeing my youngest succeed doesn’t diminish the pain I feel, just like the article says. That damned glass always seems to be three-quarters empty, and I’m still looking for the magic elixir to fill it even to the half-way mark and make life merely tolerable.
Poor me. Whine, whine, whine. Guess it’s time to grab Garland and Rooney and put on a show–“There’s no [illness] like [mental illness] like no [illness] I know.”