I learned to live bold from my family. My brother was my biggest teacher on how to live. He was 10 years older…I idolized him and called him brotherman. He and his friends called me little sister. By the time I was five I had learned to fly. I was sitting in front of Greg on his mini bike…..As he pulled the throttle back to go over a jump the front wheel flew off. We flew into the air and rolled in the grass tumbling over and over. He ran over a picked me up, cradling me, scared that I was hurt. I was okay but that was the start of a wildness and willingness to try new things. It was always an opportunity. We had fun and a lot of my days ended with “don’t tell mom”.
By age 12 I had been rock climbing, camping, read writings by paramahansa yogananda. I’d learned to lean into the curves going down the bluff to the Mississippi on a 350 Honda holding on tight to my brothers back. I’d also learned to follow directions. By the river there were these maple saplings that were 10-15 feet high. They used to pull down the top walking hand over hand up the trunk. I’d hang on and on the count of three they would launch the tree. Up towards the blue sky I’d fly, wind in my hair as I listed for my brother voice. I’d fly over the top to the other side and at exactly the right moment….greg would yell let go and I’d step gently back on the ground. Unscathed but exhilarated at the ability to fly. We skipped arm & arm down main street singing we’re off to see the wizard of oz. We’d laugh big.
I was 13 and sitting with his friends on the floor of his 1969 VW van outfitted for camping and climbing as they were headed out west to work on a ranch and climb. I was along as far as Kansas city were I was to be dropped off at my grandparents. As we headed west, the sky was so beautiful….red……yellow beams of light coming through the windshield as my brother drove. The sun hitting the curls of his brown long hair and wind blowing in the open windows. His friends sitting on the floor of the Van. Levi’s it was. Faded Levi’s and climbing ropes. Equipment for a life of living the summer next to a mountain stream with the mountains and trees as your home. It was the beginning of the summer of time of life that came with being young and free. The Beatles were on the radio….”here comes the sun little darling…here comes the sun and I said…its’ alright” Brotherman turned to me and said…”little sister, this song is for you, Always know it will be alright”.
One evening we got a call from the police. My brother had been arrested. He had written a check for a million dollars at the grocery store and signed it Jesus Christ and topped it off with a handstand in the checkout lane. The diagnosis was paranoid schizophrenia and he was really psychotic. Some people think schizophrenia is a split personality. It is actually a split from the personality of the person you once knew and loved. The hopes and dreams for the future becomes a tangled confusion of unrelenting symptoms. Back in 1975 there were not the medications we have today. My brother became a collection of symptoms that put together are a syndrome consistent with brain disease. They call the psychosis of schizophrenia “positive symptoms”…but there is nothing good about it. Positive symptoms are ideas that are added on to the thinking process like paranoia, voices and delusions. The negative symptoms are the things that are subtracted from the personality that keep people from living a life that everyone hoped for. No matter what the illness, when a person receives a diagnosis, the whole family receives it as well; it changes everything.
The next four years Greg was in and out of the hospital. He would take medicine and look like a zombie…or he would stop them and become a wildman. It was finals week my first year of college. Mom called and said I needed to leave for a few days. They couldn’t find Greg. He was talking a lot about me and they wanted to make sure I was safe. I thought“Safe from my brother?” What does that mean? He was always my safe.” After a few days I went back to my apartment. Turns out he had never left the institution.
See I knew what having schizophrenia was like. My brother told me…he said the voices, paranoia and fear were unbearable. The constant commentary was like having no oxygen. Up high when climbing, the air was clear..he was free. . His friends knew he was climbing the smoke stack on the back of the grounds. He would sit at the top to breath…the air was clear. …it was closer to God. When they found him…the rungs had given way at the top. He fell 150 feet to his death.
As I drove home to the funeral along the Mississippi river, I rounded a bend heading west….it was that beautiful sky…Red….the beams of golden light though my windshield. I thought, nothing will ever be the same. I felt so alone. Then I heard it….that song….little sister…little darling…it will be alright.
Passion……People ask me where it originates. I just smile. I have devoted my life to making a difference in peoples lives. At University of Illinois, I ran clinics for treatment resistant schizophrenia, movement disorders, a research clinic for new medications….I have worked in drug development….to find and work with new drugs that will make a difference in the lives of people with serious and persistent mental illness. Those medicines have helped a lot of people. My studies in the spiritual life……It has all been to make a difference and to heal. A solution to the suffering for those who suffer. That is what life is about….learning as much as you can and through that learning, being of service. Healing others, healing yourself…..keeping your heart open. We recognize each other….those who’s heart’s are of love.
I turned 50 in 2011. That Mantra-Live bold-Enjoy Life-Be of love. It had started playing over and over in may head. The day of my birth….. I walked in the NAMI Walk. NAMI stands for the national alliance of the mentally Ill. 1000 patients, families who live and thrive with mental illness walked together. We walked along the lake front in Chicago. I wore a picture of Brotherman around my neck. I kept looking at the waves. Big 6 footers. …it was raining and cold. No one was out there that day. Live Bold popped into my head. A plan was formed. I called Dusty, my young paddle boarding friend who was always up for an adventure.
In 2010 I was at the American Psychiatric Meeting in Hawaii. I’d get up early and walk/meditate on the beach. The water was blue-green like a postcard from a place you’ve always wanted to go. Kids playing and surfers. I kept looking at people on surfboards and I thought….if I was younger I’d be a surfer chick. I took some time after the meeting and went to Maui. I drove the road to Hanna just to have the experience. 3 hours to go 18 miles. The switch backs along wall of green foliage, water falls and one lane roads. As I rounded the bend in Hanna I saw a bunch of cars parked along the road. I pulled over and made my way down a path towards the ocean. The path opened onto a blue bay. 8 foot waves were rolling in and a lone woman riding the waves on a paddle board. She was completely awesome. Her grace was unbelievable. Over and over again she cruised along walls of turquoise water. I was lost in the beauty of the experience. When I came home to Chicago, I kept thinking about the ease of the board on the water. Her grace and connection to the moment. As I had watched her it was if the moment was electric. It felt like a connection with the infinite. I was mesmerized.
About a month after I returned from the APA, I walked into REI in Chicago. There she was. An 11 foot long red paddle board with two yellow stripes down the length of it. It hit my mind and heart like those rays of sun through the windshield of my brothers 1969 VW van. I head that Beatles song in my head. “Here comes the Sun Little Darling” It’s alright. I bought it right then. The guy who sold it to me was a 27 year old young man. He said his name was Dusty. I immediately liked him. He asked me if I had ever paddle boarded and I said no….but I knew I’d like it. He laughed really BIG. Over the next couple of months I repetitively loaded that board on my car and paddled out into lake Michigan. I fell a lot. I kept getting back up on the board….I went into REI and bugged him every week. Dusty finally said to meet him at Montrose harbor and I’ll show give you a few pointers. Over the next three years we became the family both of us craved. I started calling him brother man. He told everyone I was his big sister. We were buddies, training together and building a friendship based on the love of the water and paddle boarding which grew into family. By July of that year I was competing in races. I am the 1st and 2nd place holder for the 18 mile open water paddle board race in 2012 and 2013. I love that.
That rainy day I called Dusty and hatched my plan of riding those big waves on that cold and rainy day. We stood on Montrose beach looking out at waves. The far boating buoy looked unattainable. My friend said, go on, LG. It will be alright. I put the red board with gold strips in the water. I started to paddle. As I rounded the far buoy and headed for shore Dusty was cheering and waving his arms. I thought……“It is good day-Live bold-Enjoy Life-Be of Love. I am so lucky”. People always show up when you need them. It may not be who you expect, but it is always who you need.
