My year of fear and survival

My name is Alicia (25), and I’m currently homeless in Illinois. This past year has felt like a horror movie come to life, primarily due to my mom’s severe mental illness. We are uncertain about her exact diagnosis, but she exhibits signs of bipolar disorder, paranoia, and a personality disorder. It’s alarming to note that she looks and sounds completely different from how she did just two years ago; her face is sunken, and dark circles are prominent around her eyes.

Looking back, I remember when I was 16. My mom would wake up at around 6 or 7 a.m. and sit in my dad's jeep. Initially, I thought she was just preparing things for work or school. I didn’t think much of it at first, but it soon became apparent that her behavior was shifting. She began to obsessively watch our neighbors go about their daily lives. This spiraled into her believing my dad was cheating on her, and then she became convinced there were hidden cameras in our home and cars.

Her outbursts grew increasingly violent; she would scream at the top of her lungs, break things, and lash out at us for checking on her during these episodes. She started locking herself in one of our cars and talking to herself for hours. I received recordings from her with the message, “listen closely,” convinced that we could hear the other voices she believed were present.

My dad, who worked at a trucking company in 2020, became a focal point of her paranoia. She thought he had hidden cameras, streaming her life on TikTok for profit, despite her never having used the platform. She believed he was making thousands by exposing her intimate moments, particularly when she was in the shower, and claimed that the money was being funneled to our neighbors, who were suddenly getting new cars and groceries.

With my dad being an abusive alcoholic, I eventually had to focus on protecting myself as I grew older. My mom spent most of her time indoors, and I initially thought her behavior stemmed from isolation. However, things escalated when she locked me out one day after asking me to run to the store for groceries. Left with nothing but my wallet and a winter jacket, I called the police, but they told me there was nothing they could do. They suggested I leave the house, which was devastating.

My mom would later call, letting the phone ring twice before saying, “Too bad, must not want your stuff.” Eventually, she agreed to let me in under one condition: I came alone, without my cell phone, and entered through the garage, where she was holding a knife and “searching my pockets”she tried to stab me 3 times. In a moment of panic, I pushed her away and fled to my bedroom, locked the door where I quickly opened the window and threw my important documents and my dog out to my boyfriend, who was waiting outside. Somehow, she didn’t put two and two together, and I managed to escape with the essentials.

Afterwards, I went to stay with my sister, but her living situation was unstable, and I could only stay for a few months, paying the family $1,200, which drained my finances. A couple of months later, I received an email from my dad telling me my mom had locked all the doors in our house, using a screwdriver to open them only when she wanted.

She became increasingly erratic, refusing to let anyone use the bathroom or shower and stopped paying the power, water, gas, and phone bills. To gain control, she moved all the bills to her phone number and email, then smashed her phone and cut off the service, preventing anyone from accessing anything.

One night, when she stayed with some family members, my dad let me back into the house. I was horrified by what I found in my childhood room. Garbage filled with urine-soaked paper was strewn about, a Halloween mask sat ominously in the middle of the room, and a knife was present among the filth. My mom had thrown out my clean mattress, claiming it smelled and had stains, despite it being in perfect condition when I left.

Things took a darker turn when I visited in January, and she attacked my boyfriend, insisting that I and my friends were practicing black magic and that he was the “white devil.” In front of our house and with neighbors watching, she wrestled with him, trying to get his car keys. When the police arrived, she denied everything and made wild accusations against my dad, claiming he was a pedophile.

She began visiting our neighbors incessantly, spreading lies and accusations, even telling them my dad had abused a 13-year-old girl. Fortunately, one neighbor spoke with my dad privately and informed him of her erratic behavior. During my visits, she would blast the radio, convinced it contained hidden messages and that people were listening. She would even stand outside neighbors' homes, staring into their windows and demanding to know, “Are you fucking my husband?”

Despite the clear signs of her instability, the police and doctors have repeatedly told us that they cannot intervene unless she consents. They've advised us that if she threatens our lives, they will act, but until then, we're left in this unimaginable situation. As the holidays approach, I’ve made the difficult decision to stay away for my safety.