By Sherry Zak, PhD, RN

Director of Nursing, Asst Professor of Nursing, Director of Health Services, Waynesburg University

I remember the moment so vividly—the sterile hum of emergency room monitors still echoes in my memory. A nurse gently asked my son, “Do you ever hear or see anything that other people cannot see or hear, or that you know isn’t there?

In my heart, I already knew the answer. But when Joshua softly said “yes,” I closed my eyes and exhaled a long, heavy breath. As a nurse, I understood the weight of what might come next.

Joshua Parsons—my son—was often described as “an old soul.” Looking back, though he was never formally diagnosed with autism, I sometimes wonder if he had traits along the spectrum. As a family, we said he marched to the beat of his own drum.

Joshua struggled with depression and substance use disorder, and shortly after his 21st birthday, he was diagnosed with schizoaffective disorder. That hospitalization in the behavioral health unit opened a door to truths he had been carrying alone for years. He had been experiencing auditory and visual hallucinations since he was about sixteen.

As a mother and a nurse, it shattered me to know he had been suffering in silence. When I asked him why he hadn’t told me sooner, his response hurt more than the diagnosis itself:

“I didn’t want to be labeled as crazy or have people look at me differently. But it’s getting harder to function—I can’t keep it in anymore.”

For the next six years, Joshua fought courageously to build a meaningful life while living with schizoaffective disorder. On May 22, 2023, that battle ended. In a desperate attempt to quiet the internal noise, he left this world.

I can’t speak to what it’s like to live with schizoaffective disorder. Still, I can talk about what it’s like to be a caregiver—a mother and a nurse—watching someone you love struggle for proper treatment, compassion, and dignity in our behavioral health system.

The truth is, our healthcare system is broken. People with substance use disorders or severe mental illnesses are too often met with judgment instead of empathy. Rather than being treated with the same urgency and respect as those with physical conditions, they’re marginalized, misunderstood, and frequently dismissed. My son experienced this firsthand—enduring impersonal care, waiting endlessly for the proper medications, and fighting to be seen as more than just a diagnosis.

Despite everything, Joshua and I turned our pain into purpose. Together, we spoke to nursing students about our journey—a mother and son navigating the complexities of mental illness with love, frustration, and unwavering hope. Joshua often expressed how much he worried about me, the emotional toll his care was taking on my life. And I would share how helpless and angry I felt that, even as a nurse, I couldn’t fix what was hurting him.

Through those conversations, we had a straightforward mission: to make people see Joshua as a human being who deserved love, understanding, and dignity. We hoped that by sharing our story, we could help future nurses view patients with mental health disorders through a more compassionate, human lens.

And yet, Joshua was determined and capable. He attended nursing school, passed his boards, and achieved so much despite the overwhelming weight of his condition.

Please, never underestimate the strength or potential of those living with mental health disorders. A diagnosis does not define them. They are people with dreams, resilience, and a profound capacity for love and contribution. ❤