Lori L. Schafer

It was the spring of 1989. I was sixteen years old, a junior in high school and an honors student. I had what every teenager wants: a stable family, a nice home in the suburbs, a great group of friends, big plans for my future, and no reason to believe that any of that would ever change. Then came my mother's psychosis. I experienced first-hand the terror of watching someone I loved transform into a monster, the terror of discovering that I was to be her primary victim. For years I've lived with the sadness of knowing that she, too, was a helpless victim - a victim of a terrible disease that consumed and destroyed the strong and caring woman I had once called Mom. My mother's illness took everything. My family, my home, my friends, my future. A year and a half later I would be living alone on the street on the other side of the country, wondering whether I could even survive on my own. But I did. That was how my mother - my real mother - raised me. To survive. She, too, was a survivor. It wasn't until last year that I learned that she had died - in 2007. No one will ever know her side of the story now. But perhaps, at last, it's time for me to tell mine.

A Daughter's Memoir of Mental Illness

On Hearing of My Mother's Death Six Years After It Happened

PLEASE NOTE: This is the LARGE PRINT edition of On Hearing of My Mother's Death Six Years After It Happened. A standard size paperback is also available. It was the spring of 1989. I was sixteen years old, a junior in high school and an honors student. I had what every teenager wants: a stable family, a nice home in the suburbs, a great group of friends, big plans for my future, and no reason to believe that any of that would ever change. Then came my mother's psychosis. I experienced first-hand the terror of watching someone I loved transform into a monster, the terror of discovering that I was to be her primary victim. For years I've lived with the sadness of knowing that she, too, was a helpless victim - a victim of a terrible disease that consumed and destroyed the strong and caring woman I had once called Mom. My mother's illness took everything. My family, my home, my friends, my future. A year and a half later I would be living alone on the street on the other side of the country, wondering whether I could even survive on my own. But I did. That was how my mother - my real mother - raised me. To survive. She, too, was a survivor. It wasn't until last year that I learned that she had died - in 2007. No one will ever know her side of the story now. But perhaps, at last, it's time for me to tell mine. This LARGE PRINT edition of On Hearing of My Mother's Death Six Years After It Happened is printed in 18-point font for easy readability.

Lori L. Schafer

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