I'm a mother, a mental health advocate, and a survivor of abuse. My goal is to share my experiences while doing something I love, writing. Tips are always appreciated.
For most things, I can’t remember what happened yesterday. As for the day I met my mother, that is a memory I will be able to re-play in my mind as if it were yesterday.
Two years ago, my father was killed in a tree falling accident. He wasn't a logger or an arborist, just a stubborn senior that insisted on doing everything himself. He loved falling trees, but even with a system designed to keep him safe, he still met his demise by way of a widow maker in November of 2018.
Speaking as someone who used to work retail, I can safely say that the holidays are not ideal for anyone. Not for you, not for me, not for your bank account.
My set of parents were born in the "Boomer" era, or so it's coined. The discussion around mental health in my house was infrequent and poorly sourced. The irony was that, not only did both of my parents have their own mental health issues, they also had personality disorders... neither of which were acknowledged. That's a story for another time.