As a daughter of mental illness, I carry with me a profound sadness and pain that I don’t think will ever fully heal. I am never unaware of it. How could one ever forget such a fact? But the big-ness of it usually, thankfully, sits back from my day to day. I don’t actually think there’s room for it, if I am to carry on as a mother myself and as a generally functioning person of society. But now and again, such as tonight, on the eve of Mother’s Day, it arises ferociously and insistently and quite literally knocks me off my feet with its horribly painful reality.
On the Eve of Mother’s Day
On the Eve of Mother’s Day
On the Eve of Mother’s Day
As a daughter of mental illness, I carry with me a profound sadness and pain that I don’t think will ever fully heal. I am never unaware of it. How could one ever forget such a fact? But the big-ness of it usually, thankfully, sits back from my day to day. I don’t actually think there’s room for it, if I am to carry on as a mother myself and as a generally functioning person of society. But now and again, such as tonight, on the eve of Mother’s Day, it arises ferociously and insistently and quite literally knocks me off my feet with its horribly painful reality.