I wanted to share this story with you.
Dear Mr. Earley
I have a son, much like your’s, who became sick while in college. Voices were telling him to harm himself. He climbed onto the top of a residence hall and was standing on the edge because he thought he could fly. The police talked him down and thought he was on drugs.
My son was diagnosed with schzophrenia but was convinced nothing was wrong with him and he refused to take any medication. From that moment on, our lives became a living hell. My son threatened us, destroyed his room in our house, and when we practiced “tough love” and told him he couldn’t live with us unless he got treatment, he walked out and disappeared.
Only a parent who has a child who has disappeared on the streets can tell you how horrible it is to go to bed at night not knowing where your son or daughter might be. We lived like that for a year the first time before my son came home.
I am so angry I had to walk away from my computer just now to catch my breath and compose myself as I write this. Let me tell you what happened next.