By Lisbeth Coiman
FROM: The Journal of Radical Wonder

In the summer of 1998, I suffered a late onset of bipolar disorder type II. My twelve-year-old son witnessed my frequent dissociations. Then, he would call me in a soft voice while rubbing my arm until I acknowledged his presence.

For that reason, ladybug, the memoir written by San Bernardino native Nikia Chaney resonated deep inside me. In this book, Chaney tells her story as a woman whose mother and daughter are afflicted by schizophrenia. In doing so, Chaney calls attention to the plight of children raised by parents with mental disorders. We read plenty of memoirs from the point of view of the mentally ill, including mine. But we rarely hear the voice of the child who witnesses the devastation of mental breakdowns. Here lies the relevance of Chaney’s ladybug.

ladybug begins with a child speaking in second person as she observes her mother dissociate:

I can feel your hands in my hair now, but I know you are not paying attention to what you are doing. . . a television screen with bad reception. That static, then that pause, interrupts you again, and I can’t see or hear you. Not the real you. You are no longer there. . . You are listening to something I can’t hear. Read Rest of Review Here