[Photo from high school]
It’s hard to find the right words to explain the enormous impact that my mom had on saving my life and nurturing me back to health. She’s a parent, like so many others, who’s wellbeing has a direct relationship with the wellbeing of her children. When I’m in pain, she’s in pain. When I’m succeeding, she’s succeeding. She went through this personal hell and road to recovery physically, mentally and emotionally with me. Because of this our relationship is beyond that of a mother and daughter, we have the bond only known my people who have survived together.
I know that without the financial and emotional support of my family, I would be homeless, ill or maybe dead by now. Every time I see someone sleeping, panhandling or shouting at their delusions on the streets of my city, I count my blessings. I am fortunate to have been born into a family that could and wanted to help me. That mentally ill homeless person, that could be me.
My mom is brave, smart and the deeply compassionate. She admitted me to the hospital despite fearing that she might never see me again. She demanded to consult with my doctors and nurses every step of the way. She negotiated visiting hours so that my family could visit me anytime. She regulated my medication and dispensed it to me like my own personal nurse. Beginning at my outpatient recovery program in LA and continuing through the time I spent living with my parents afterwards she was right there with me. She slept in my bed when I was scared, hugged me when I was frustrated and encourage me to go out into the world baby step by baby step. .
Sometimes she tells me that this experience changed her. I see it too. She’s wiser, a better communicator and has deeper reserves of strength than before. I’m happy for her and I’m happy for us. My mom is my safe haven. I hope that someday I can be a mother like her ❤️