You may have heard about or read this post by an American mother Liza Long, who has a son with an as yet diagnosed mental illness, written in response to the shooting at Newtown, Connecticut. She says in her blog post.
It is now viral and being quoted as the 'I am Adam Lanza's Mother' blog post, but it was originally titled 'Thinking The Unthinkable', for her blog page called 'The Anarchist Soccer Mom'.
Here is an excerpt from the post:
"I am sharing this story because I am Adam Lanza’s mother. I am Dylan Klebold’s and Eric Harris’s mother. I am James Holmes’s mother. I am Jared Loughner’s mother. I am Seung-Hui Cho’s mother. And these boys—and their mothers—need help. In the wake of another horrific national tragedy, it’s easy to talk about guns. But it’s time to talk about mental illness."
The first part of her piece is below:
In the wake of another horrific national tragedy, it’s easy to talk about guns. But it’s time to talk about mental illness.
Three days before 20 year-old Adam Lanza killed his mother, then opened fire on a classroom full of Connecticut kindergartners, my 13-year old son Michael (name changed) missed his bus because he was wearing the wrong color pants.
To continue reading, click here.
What do you think? Please feel free to comment below.
It is now viral and being quoted as the 'I am Adam Lanza's Mother' blog post, but it was originally titled 'Thinking The Unthinkable', for her blog page called 'The Anarchist Soccer Mom'.
Here is an excerpt from the post:
"I am sharing this story because I am Adam Lanza’s mother. I am Dylan Klebold’s and Eric Harris’s mother. I am James Holmes’s mother. I am Jared Loughner’s mother. I am Seung-Hui Cho’s mother. And these boys—and their mothers—need help. In the wake of another horrific national tragedy, it’s easy to talk about guns. But it’s time to talk about mental illness."
The first part of her piece is below:
Thinking the Unthinkable
 |
| Michael holding a butterfly |
Three days before 20 year-old Adam Lanza killed his mother, then opened fire on a classroom full of Connecticut kindergartners, my 13-year old son Michael (name changed) missed his bus because he was wearing the wrong color pants.
“I can wear these pants,” he said, his tone increasingly belligerent, the black-hole pupils of his eyes swallowing the blue irises.
“They are navy blue,” I told him. “Your school’s dress code says black or khaki pants only.”
“They told me I could wear these,” he insisted. “You’re a stupid bitch. I can wear whatever pants I want to. This is America. I have rights!”
“You can’t wear whatever pants you want to,” I said, my tone affable, reasonable. “And you definitely cannot call me a stupid bitch. You’re grounded from electronics for the rest of the day. Now get in the car, and I will take you to school.”
I live with a son who is mentally ill. I love my son. But he terrifies me.
To continue reading, click here.
What do you think? Please feel free to comment below.
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