He takes after my side of the family

My son Kirk is tall and gangly like his father. Well, gangly like his father used to be at that age. I met Ken at precisely the age Kirk is now. I keep expecting Kirk to look and act like Ken did then, but he doesn't.

In fact, he takes after my brother Stephen quite a bit; so much so that it's kind of eerie. He resembles him quite a bit physically, but that's not where it ends. He talks like Stevey. His tone and phrasing and choice of words - Stevey. Gestures, mannerisms, quirks - all Stevey. Even a lot of Kirk's attitudes and the way he looks at the world remind me more of Stephen than they do of his father.

Truthfully, it frightens me. A lot.

I don't think I've ever said much about my brother Stephen. I might have mentioned "my crazy brother" in passing, but I'm pretty sure I've never blogged any particulars. Stephen is currently estranged from our entire family. And when I call him "crazy" I actually mean it. As in he has a mental illness.

It's very difficult for me to talk about him. I have very mixed up, jumbled feelings about him and I have a hard time keeping any objectivity. He has, by his actions, hurt our family very deeply. A part of me understands that it's his disease that makes him like this, but another part of me wants - needs - to hold someone (him!) responsible for the havoc that he wrought on us.

It was around the age that Kirk is now, maybe a little earlier, that Stephen first started to exhibit signs of mental instability. I remember that out of the blue he would become unreasonable, irrational even, over small little things. And he seemed angry a lot of the time.

This is why I am frightened. I am seeing some signs in Kirk that worry me. He seems overwhelmed by the everyday. He has a hard time coping with...just everyday life. Well, I know anxiety when I see it and I see it in him. But where I will get weepy when things get tough, Kirk's go-to emotion is anger. It reminds me a lot of Stephen.

Over the years Stephen's quirks grew into full blown mental illness. (Look, I should say upfront, that he has never had a diagnosis, because he refuses to acknowledge that he has a problem. But if you were to spend, oh, I don't know, maybe 30 minutes with him, I'm pretty sure that you'd come away with the same impression. He's just not rational.) But the point is, it started out small. At eighteen it was easy to dismiss his peculiarities as teenage angst. Teenagers are known to be moody, so it wasn't that hard to attribute his radical mood swings to hormones. And because Stephen moved out of the house when he was only 19, his illness was hidden to us a great deal of the time...but it grew.

This morning Kirk had "an episode". I came downstairs to find him weeping as he should have been leaving for work. I was alarmed and asked him what what wrong. He couldn't answer - he honestly didn't know. He said the moment his alarm went off and he had to get up for work, he burst into tears. The thought of having to go into work was utterly overwhelming to him. And the fact of this made him bewildered and angry all at the same time. Now, understand that for months now, I've been wavering, wondering if I'm really seeing what I think I'm seeing. But you know, people don't just wake up in the morning and fall apart because they have to go to work. That's not normal. So this morning I decided that I'm not going to wait and wonder any longer. We have a history of mental disorders in our family and it is entirely possible, if not likely, that Kirk could develop one too.

So after breakfast I called the doctor. I told them what I saw and I told them what I suspected and I made an appointment to have Kirk come in to talk to the doctor. And then I worried all day how Kirk would react. *weak smile*

But maybe, just maybe he's not like Stevey after all. Because Kirk didn't get angry and deny that he was having problems. He didn't try to justify his behaviour and try to manipulate me into thinking I was overreacting. He was relieved. And grateful. And hopeful that there is help out there for him.

I understand how hard it can be to open up to someone and tell them that you're having a hard time coping - period. That everything in life is brittle, and harsh and too bright...and there's no good reason why it should feel like that. I remember those bleak days, and when I think of my son having to endure them, it feels like my heart is being squeezed right out of my chest.

As always, Jesus is my consolation. I feel like I'm hanging on to Him with my fingernails, but I know that isn't true. If it were up to me and my strength, I would have let go by now. It is He who holds onto me. And that gives me more comfort than I can describe. I wish I could wax poetic about it but his faith of mine isn't the most elegant. I seem to lack the eloquence to give voice to all that it is to me. But it is a sturdy faith. Servicable and practical. And pointed firmly towards the cross, the only place I'm sure of. It is the faith that God has given me and like all His good gifts, it is sufficient.

Thank you Jesus, for sending your Holy Spirit to sanctify me and keep me in the true faith. This hasn't exactly been my best year ever, but by faith like Job I can say, "Though He slay me, yet will I trust in Him."