by Angel08

Created on: September 18, 2008   Last Updated: October 31, 2008

My mother suffers from mental illness. Growing up as a child it was only me and her. My mother had given birth to me at 17 and my father was out of the picture. At a young age I saw the pain and anger brewing inside of her. I have few happy memories in regards to my mom. I watched my mom put on a facade. Everyday I would come home from school and she would be crying. She would be lying in the same place as when I had left; I tried my best to comfort her. It would never work. I often sat in my room alone and cried I felt guilty. I tried to figure out what I did wrong. The term severe depression had no meaning to me as a 7 year old girl. Later on my mother would be further diagnosed with schizo affective disorder with maniac tendencies.

Some of the hardest times were when my mom would inflict harm on herself. I don't know if she was too medicated to notice but I often stared at the bright red marks on her wrist I could feel the knots in my stomach tighten. I don't remember exactly what was going on when she first tried to take her life. I assumed she was just in her depressed state. Before I knew it I was waiting in a hospital while they pumped her stomach. I would scream inside "Why!?" how could she do this. She always told me that she loved me and that she was the only person that truly cared. Yet she would try to take her life. Where would that leave me? Who would be there to love me if she was gone? Hospital trips and over extended stays at care centers out of town were the norm. I would stay with my Nona but she was overworked and stressed. Her family also grew up without showing much emotion making the situation with my mom even harder to cope with.

My mom was the only person I was around most of the time other then my Nona. I learned lots of my behaviors from her. Like how I felt about myself or my abilities to cope with situations in life. I had family who loved me very much, I didn't believe it because I was young and with the lack of knowledge of my mom's sickness I didn't realize that she could be wrong about them not caring. I didn't understand how her paranoia could affect her judgment. My family didn't help matters they didn't know how to handle my mother or what to say to her that wouldn't upset her so they did their best to stay away.

My only true friend in the early years of elementary school was a girl named Kayla. I never really had her over at my house because I was embarrassed and scared of how my mom would act. I think her parents may have

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