Her Mother’s Daughter
Here I am, coming back to myself after a long time away. I hardly where to start. The awkward pauses, shuffling on the porch. Remembering how to meet my own eyes. How to speak and be heard, how to listen with love. All the while wondering. Knowing where I have been, knowing where I had … Continue reading Coming Back to Myself
I relocated a spider this morning before my shower saying, “You do you, just not in the bathtub.” Feeling how life has relocated me. Remembering the many times I’ve ushered flying insects out of the house, waving my hands, creating turbulence in the air. It must have been very confusing until freedom. I was comfortable … Continue reading I Relocated a Spider
I don’t want to talk with her. If I talk with, I’m reminded of how bad the situation is. I’m reminded of her delusions. I’m reminded of her struggles, her vulnerability. I’m reminded that I can’t help her because she won’t let me. I don’t want to try to find her, because I’m reminded how … Continue reading I’m Tired of This
Something is changing the way I express my compassion, how I feel compassion. Something is different and it may look like I’m lacking compassion. One thing I have noticed in caring for my mother is a basic change in my temperament. I have had to learn to tolerate a new level of grief, pain, and … Continue reading Compassion and Expression
Self-care comes naturally to some people. I am not one of them. Self-care has long been difficult. In the past several years it has become even more challenging. In my support group, we go around the circle at the end of the meeting to talk about what we’re doing to take care of ourselves in … Continue reading An Unexpected Benefit of Self-Care
I was walking through the city today, seeing people wrapped in blankets sleeping on the sidewalk, elders sorting through their belongings, women my mother’s age, women homeless as mother is. I thought it was the alienation I have been feeling towards this city, how we allow this. It is also the knowledge that these are … Continue reading A New Walk
I was clearing out my old files and found my mom’s medical records from the last time she was hospitalized, the first time she disappeared, that I wrote about before. Then I found my notes from that time. Notes on the state of her apartment, the missing persons report, her extravagant shopping bring me back … Continue reading Time Capsule
I hear him before I see him, with the louder, faster than usual talking. I am sitting in the window seat, knitting a hat, when he sits down next to me. “I couldn’t protect you. I couldn’t protect you.” fades back into unintelligibility. I am thinking about my mother now, how much this is like … Continue reading Of Mental Illness and Bus Rides
It’s Thursday morning and I have lots of work to do. I still haven’t read the writings my mother gave to me and I’m meeting her for lunch. I don’t want to read her writing and I know I have to. I’ve already read the happy ones, the mini-memoirs of the happy events of her … Continue reading Don’t Want to
What good can come out of this? This thing I can hardly talk about, but weighs down my every day. Isn’t that the thing? We want to know that whatever difficulties we’re going through, it’s all worth something. I look at these last couple years since my mom reappeared, at all the time and energy … Continue reading An Alchemy of Mental Illness