Crying

My mom lost her job today.

And I found myself crying.

Wishing for this nightmare to end.

It has been a long time since things have been normal. My family dynamic drastically changed after both my sister and I went off to college, her a year after me, and my mom lost a job that she had had for over 30 years. Thrown to the curb like her 30+ years did not matter. This happens. It is a reality of life today. This, however, triggered something in my mom, in my family, and changed us. We went from being happy but slightly dysfunctional, to not so happy and really dysfunctional all because something was happening to our mom, the person who ran, and still runs, our house and our lives. Something changed in her that changed the dynamic of our lives, and up until very recently, we did not know what was really going on with her. She stopped watering the plants (she has the greenest thumb of anyone I have ever met) and let them all die, she stopped doing yoga and pilates (she has always done at least one of the two since I can remember), and she stopped walking the dogs (she used to walk them a hundred times a day if she could). She stopped cooking, cleaning, and seeing her friends. Worst of all, she stopped talking. Gone were the days of my mother never shutting up; now, the days with her are filled with silence. Recently, she even stopped listening, so telling her anything was as pointless as trying to get her to say something.

All I could think was, “What is wrong here? This is not my mother. This is a stranger living in her body.” I have longed for someone to bring my mom back to me and my family for years now.

Fast forward to today. I thought I had another day until I heard the words “I lost my job again,” and I thought I was prepared, but the crying mother I heard on the other side of the phone was something I could have never prepared myself for. I ensured her that it is just a job, which I have done the past two times I have gotten this call, but what stood out to me was her thanking me. A few weeks ago, I went to a doctor’s appointment with her, where she finally admitted something was wrong. Depression and anxiety. Which we all knew inside our hearts for years, but could not for the best of us get her to see it. She is on meds now, and it took an effort of my dad and I to make this happen, but today starts the first day of recovery for her and for our family.

Her struggles and sadness rip me apart inside.

Although I know I have helped her, I wish I could do more. All I can do is be her daughter.

So mom, you’re welcome. I will do anything I can to help you on your road to recovery. I am here for you, and I will never, ever blame your behavior on you being psycho again. I promise. I love you. Why do bad things have to happen to good people?