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Mental illness is no laughing matter when it’s your parent.

I will never know what it was that haunted my biological mother‘s mind. I only knew my mother when I was young. By age twenty she was divorced and running from her demons dragging my brother and myself with her state to state, city to city yearly. It wasn’t a childhood it was hell complete with beatings, tirades and objects being thrown not only at us but neighbors ending with police.  Men were afraid of my mom and so were we.  At age fourteen I stopped living with her, she packed me up taking me to the San Diego Airport to fly to Maine to live with my father and his wife and children. My mother bent over me before I boarded the flight and softly whispered “I’m glad your leaving.” I never saw her again.

Most children and parents would have a tearful ending in such a situation. For me there was no looking back, I looked ahead. Excited to meet my new step family and my father along with grandparents, I remember clearly how the fear I always carried faded away into the clouds below and how I felt set free of years of darkness. Sitting on the flight and the connecting flight finally landing in Boston after 8 hours, I made a promise to myself I would always be a wonderful mother to my future children. I did a whole LOT better, sadly my brother left behind did not and passed away years later followed by my mother.




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