Look Mommy! Look at my note!

She pulled out a crumpled treasure.

See?!

It was a white paper. Blank. I paused with the, “I’m very interested,” and, “I’m a good Mom to whom you want to divulge your innermost thoughts and secrets to,” expressions on my face. I am you know. All that. Sniff.

Another mystery maker, handy, said,

Where’s your pen?!

She was getting agitated. I did not get it. I was less of a P.I. than she had hoped. She had a non-P.I. mom. Just great.

A third wheel rolled in and stuttered out,

You need the pen, Mommy! You need it! You need the light!

I noted the multiple exclamation points hovering about and knew the sand in the glass was almost out. Communication needed to be received or my three secret agents were going to increase their level of effort. Be warned.

I am an emotions-Jedi after-all. I sense these things. The Force is strong in me, still, young Padawans.

Then, there it was. Under the blue penlight, shown the hidden messages.

No. I do not remember them. Just the sense of them. And…

And, I thought it was a super illustration of how brain illness is there but not generally seen.

I am sure this was disconcerting to my investigative kids, who had dreamed I would do what they wanted with my life and thoughts. I wish they would just let me be me! (Flipping hair.)

Brain illness does not get as much air time as cancer. It is not as obvious as a withered hand. Nor a rash. Nor a big outcropping of plantar warts seeded across the soles of our feet – brain illness is not.

Brain illness does not engender connection easily because not everyone has the Force in them. Not everyone is a Jedi like you and I. It does not have the advantage to connection as a name tag illness. Brain illness does not wear itself on our visage like an invitation to others to embrace us in shared experience.

Where is the Light?

Right. In us. We are the light. We are what brings awareness to this secretive suffering. We are secret agent Jedis. Yes. Exclamation point. Exclamation point. Exclamation point.

Questions: What would brain illness look like if it was visible?

How has brain illness become more of a shared experience? How can it?

Please tell us your story.

Self-Care Tip: Share your experience.