As I remember what it was like to grow up in a household
with a mentally ill woman, I have found myself asking how I survived the
experience. What kept me going as I
watched my Mom deteriorate? How did I
function on a day to day basis? I have
had some rough days recently, but it is really nothing next to the hopelessness
of being 8 years old and watching as your Mom becomes what mine became. Her mental illness really had an impact on
me. I have told you about some of the
consequences. I have told you about the
pain. But the question I am asking now
is…why didn’t I just give up and die?
Maybe 8 year olds don’t make the decision to kill themselves. But 16 year olds do. And the thought never occurred to me. I was down.
I was in pain. But I stuck it
out. And I kept going.
Many of my peers at that time ended up abusing drugs or
alcohol. Plus, I knew about at least one attempt at suicide during my
teens. By someone close to me. And close to my age. So, what DID keep me alive? The first thought
that occurs to me is that I had my Dad.
He was loving. And really, he was
strong. He gave me a strong ethical and
moral foundation. He showed me that he
valued me and my life. And he had
expectations. I wouldn't have disappointed him. So, I kept on plugging
away. My grades were not the best. And I was usually pretty depressed. But I kept putting one foot in front of the
other. I kept hoping for better days.
The other reason for my survival was the fact that I have
always recognized that there is a larger reason for our existence. In my teens, I kind of argued with the idea
that there is a God. But I think
underneath it all, I did have faith.
Perhaps my ambivalence about my religion at the time prevented my
acknowledgement of that belief. But it
was there. Somewhere deep inside I have always believed that God has given me a
purpose in life. And, just maybe, loving
Maxine WAS my purpose. Throughout the
time that I watched my Mom and her illness, I struggled with knowing that she
was my Mom. And therefore, I believed
that I had to love her. The funny part
was that in spite of my desire to punish her, I really did. Sometimes I didn’t want to. But the truth was that I knew deep inside
that she wasn’t in control of what was going on. And my feelings of compassion were stronger
than my feelings of anger.
Finally, I think you can just look at the human spirit as a
reason for my survival. When faced with
challenges, human beings are capable of rising to the occasion. And little Judy did that. She recognized that giving up simply wasn’t a
good option. So, she kept on going. Day after frightening day. Through the insecurity and the pain. When it was tough, she kept her balance. And she relied on the support system she
could recognize. And she tried to solve
the problems as they came up. At least
within the parameters of what a child can be responsible for solving. Sometimes that meant she simply stayed away
from her Mom. At least for a little
while.
When I look at that today, as considerably older Judy, I am
struck by her courage. And her
persistence. And what she really
accomplished. Survival. Through some of the worst that she thought
that life could throw at her. She really
was an amazing kid. And adult Judy could
learn a lot from her. If I allowed her
to. So, today, I am going to take the
lessons that the child Judy can offer the adult Judy and go with them. Life has its ups and downs. Sometimes it feels like you can’t go on. But you can.
Trust little Judy, who learned that lesson at 8 years old.
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