Mothering with Mental Illness

some days I don't know who I am

I confuse myself with my bipolar disorder

or my manic depression

or the frantic breaths in my chest as the world spins

some days I forget that I'm not

the fears that wake me in cold sweats

at 3am

I am not the voice in my head

shouting, "You'll never be good enough!"

I am the one yelling back,

"Fuck you!" to that voice

I am the wounded warrior that fights a battle

that no one can see

even me sometimes

I am the prisoner chained to the floor

beaten to a bloody pulp

that stands back up

knowing the next blow may well knock me down again

I am the one listening to

my mind scream at me, "It's not worth it,

you can't do it anyways,"

that keeps on trying

I am not my mind or my body

I am the electrical impulse

that makes my heart beat

I am the frequency of the theta waves

emmenating from my brain

I am a spirit fighting the natural entropy

that my body is so inclined towards

I am someone that made a decision

to always take the next step

to be both student and teacher of life

I am someone that took on the terrifying,

gratifying challenge

of influencing the next generation of human beings

by raising one

I am a mother

I may confuse myself with my euphoric highs

and my self destructive desires

I may some times believe the thoughts

of my brain that say,

"The world is better off without you,"

but I know I'm not

I am the response to the vicious outcries of my mind

the one that says not despite but because of these

I will be strong

I will be the mother of a man that knows that it's okay

to not be okay

that despite the fact that

life seems to be stopped indefinitely

at a eye blinding red light

you will go on

I am someone realizing that hope is not something that finds you

when you need it most

but rather hope is something you find

once you've cut yourself open

to dig through the inferno of your soul

and pull out of your own beating heart

I am someone that has fought

and will probably always be fighting myself

that will find my own strength in my serrated muscles

and say to my son,

"If I can do it, so can you,"

I am not the nightmare of my son becoming just like me

constantly worried of failure

listening religiously to the silent siren call

of death

crying out at the state of humanity

a society

where men, women, and children are sold to be raped

where children younger and older than my son

don't know the meaning of the world, "full"

where torturing animals is the norm

and drug addiction is a symptom of

this sick society

I am the person who will be there for him

when he feels like he's alone

I will be the mother I always needed

the one that says,

"It's okay to be the way you are,

and it's okay to want to be better,

but either way I love you.

It's okay to fight the voice in your head

because it's not you."

fighting with myself has been one of my

best teachers of self love

hate and love are just opposite ends of a spectrum

so becoming a master in one means

I have the means to make it to the other side

I am a dimly flickering flame

in an eternal cave of wonder

I will pour gasoline on myself to light the way

if need be

I will be the mother of a man

who will take the shoes off of his feet

for someone who has none

a man that will be a voice in the next round of humans

one that will stand up with confidence

and help bring love back to this place

I am not the worry in my mind

that chastises me and

says I'm selfish for bringing a child into

a place of decrepit decay

I am a mother

I am a person that made a choice to take on the

humbling experience

of raising another human

to become far greater than I've ever hoped of becoming

I am someone who, in the throws of mental illness,

decided to work on myself

to become the person my son deserves as his teacher

his mentor

his safe place

I am not the mistakes and setbacks in my life

I am the conquerer of them

I am the survivor, not the victim

I am a mother

and I accept this beautiful battle for life

in a dying body