I've talked about my fruit box on several occasions. How since I told my mom that I just don't eat fruit because the task of buying, keeping track of and preparing it is too demanding, she has been cutting up fresh fruit for me and putting it in an easily accessible box at least once, sometimes twice a week. This week, as she was cutting away, I asked her about it. "How are you still doing this every week? It's been years. It's very nice of you, but why do you bother?" Her answer surprised me.
"You know how schizophrenics have a much lower life expectancy than the general population?" she said. We do. For a combination of various reasons that I won't get into here - that's not what this post is about - people diagnosed with schizophrenia die earlier than people without schizophrenia, statistically speaking. Apparently my mom knows this too. And she has read up on it. Why do we die. What can be done.
Most of the contributing factors are not something my mom has any shot at affecting or controlling. But one of them stood out to her. Not a major one admittedly, but still it was mentioned. A lot of us don't eat enough or don't eat varied enough. We generally don't get enough fruits and vegetables, because when you're severely mentally ill and also likely to be poor, that's just not a realistic priority for a lot of people.
My mom has felt very powerless in the face of my illness. She loves me a lot, but it hasn't solved most of the things I've been struggling with, most of the detours my mental health has taken, most of the crises I've survived. And there's a lot she can't do, while also working a full-time job, and being there for the other people in her life. A lot of it is very much out of her control. But she can cut up fresh fruit. And so she does. Every week.
