The Pelican-- Birds of Paradise, A Memoir on Mental Health and the Power of Love and Birds

Julie Ansell    

Birds of Paradise, by Julie Ansell

​Growing up in my family was challenging. We were fortunate to have had a roof over our heads and food on the table (thank you dad). The challenges I’m talking about were unseen ones. The ones that creep in and wreak havoc on your wellbeing, create unbearable stress and anxiety, and the ability to slowly tear families apart. A historically taboo topic, mental health.

My mother was diagnosed with Schizophrenia when I was six. The Mayo Clinic defines Schizophrenia as:
"A serious mental health condition that affects how people think, feel and behave. It may result in a mix of hallucinations, delusions, and disorganized thinking and behavior. Hallucinations involve seeing things or hearing voices that aren't observed by others. Delusions involve firm beliefs about things that are not true. People with schizophrenia can seem to lose touch with reality, which can make daily living very hard."

My mother was an immigrant. Her and my dad met in Japan when he was serving in the US Navy, fell in love, got married, had a baby (my brother), and then moved back to the US where they had another baby (me). Right after I was born, my dad left the Navy and got a job where he was able to make enough money for my mom to be a housewife. Unfortunately, that meant being away on business trips weeks at a time while my mom was home alone doing her work of keeping the house clean, cooking dinner, and taking care of my brother and me. Having a language and cultural barrier amplified my mother’s fears and social anxiety. Her illness would become overwhelming at times, and she was afraid to get out of the house.

When I was young, I could not fully grasp why my mother was different. I couldn’t understand why she just couldn’t be like everyone else’s mom. I knew that she loved my brother and I very much. She was not violent and would never hurt us, but she struggled having the capacity to fit within social norms. I was embarrassed and sometimes angry at how she talked aloud to the voices constantly whispering in her head.

I look back now and realize that she was suffering greatly I know now that she needed help, patience and understanding. Of course, there were always ups and downs. As sure as the tides, her symptoms would ebb and flow and moments of peace would give way to moments when the noise in her head would cause her to start yelling and screaming at phantom whispers. My father, during the eighties, forced her into a treatment facility. This was a completely alien and terrifying experience for her. She fought and refused to co-operate or take her medication. Eventually my dad broke and did not have the heart to keep forcing her to stay there. After she returned home, she resolved to try and manage things for herself. Her answer was to build a backyard garden, and what she started to grow there was her peace. Though it was not a cure, it helped.

My mom’s garden was her tiny bit of paradise in a world of chaos. Connecting with nature was healing. When she was out there gardening, the plants thrived in a way that only skilled and nurturing hands could make happen. She would become grounded and focused. She enjoyed the birds that would come into the backyard and soon she started putting out seed in dishes and would talk about how cute her little visitors were. She enjoyed anything bird related that she could get as gifts and gave me gifts in turn that were bird related. As she grew older, she continued to care about her birds and plants until she couldn’t anymore. In 2020, she passed away at the age of 82. 

I miss her terribly. My mom was not an easy person to talk to; her illness made her life difficult in ways that were debilitating and cruel. Her mind kept her world confused and lonely, but the joy that she found in the quiet moments in her garden was a testament to her ability to love and care for nature. In turn it was that love that soothed her and made her stronger. I now am very proud of her because she chose to find some happiness when she could have given up. 
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Now when I see birds I think of her. This year has been rough for me, my dad passed away in May and I lost my job at the beginning of July. I am not going to lie, I could feel the stirring of depression starting to sink in around my edges, like a cold frost creeping across my windshield. It is not the first time I have had a bout of depression, so I recognize its dampening effects on my emotions. I had the opportunity to go birding for the first time and found I enjoyed it. I went a few more times and now I know that this is a hobby I would really like to continue. I don’t quite have my mom’s gift of gardening but apparently, she did gift me a love of birds. So, let’s see, I am going to choose this bit of happiness and hope its seeds can help me grow in ways that would make my mom proud.

Mayo Clinic (n.d.). Retrieved August 30, 2025, from https:// https://www.mayoclinic.org/diseases-conditions/schizophrenia/symptoms-causes/syc-20354443