The Shaman

 

Losing my mind was a slow process until one day it took over rapidly. My family became worried. I slipped into a psychotic episode. I would hallucinate and see shadows and demons. I began to combat the evil with prayer and the Bible. I became hyper-religious. I told my family that the devil was after me and that I was a prophet. I told them that the devil was in the house. My family is from a small ranch in Mexico. Through their traditions and culture they believed that maybe my mental illness was something spiritual or supernatural. My mother, years later told me that she did not know what to do or what was happening. All she knew was that she was desperate to help me.

One day my mother and sister-in-law, Sophie, told me that we had to take a special trip. I didn’t know where we were going and I was too delusional to understand. They took me to a house with a small back house. I went into a room and saw a heavy man sitting down. He asked me to come in and have a seat. I saw all his candles and saints and wondered who he was. I thought that maybe he could help me. I sat down and he just observed me. “Tell me,” he said. “What’s happening in your life? I rambled on that I had special powers and could talk to God by fluttering my eyes. I told him that demons were after me and that I was the chosen one.                                The Shaman just looked at me as if he was trying to make sense of it. Then he said that he had to go talk to my mother and sister-in-law. I didn’t know until several years later that the Shaman told my mother that my problem was far more serious and she would have to take me to a witch. My mom realized that maybe I didn’t need a witch and needed medical help. Finally, my brother Junior made phone calls and found the resources to get me the help I needed. That was only the beginning of my mental health journey.