The Highs & Lows of Motherhood

Throughout the years, my mother’s lessons and advice have continued to prove necessary and invaluable. My mother taught me kindness, compassion, strength, and most importantly standing in my convictions. My mother is a person living with bipolar disorder, which means growing up we had our good days and bad, but even on the bad days, I adored her. Often, when I share this with people, they are understandably astonished. Most people don’t know the experience of being raised or even in the close company of a person with bipolar disorder. Oftentimes, people have a skewed view based on a limited understanding built on memes and internet posts regarding mental health. As a child being raised by someone with mental illness this is a fact I quickly became all too familiar with. Unfortunately for them, many people don’t realize that although my mother’s diagnosis presented some difficulties, it also provided a whole new lens through which I could view the world and those around me. My mother isn’t strong despite her illness. She is strong because of it, and that strength has influenced me in ways I can only attempt to express through words.

My mother was not afforded the opportunities of most to address her condition until she was in her 40s and all her children had grown and moved out. Living with bipolar disorder comes with a large number of difficulties, even with proper treatment, so without it my mother struggled more often than not. Watching my mother struggle to maintain her mental health while raising two children in a single-parent home was my first real example of the strength it takes to be a mother.

Bipolar disorder means that a person suffers from a constant cycle of both manic and depressive states. During manic episodes my mother would often go so long without sleeping that her body would eventually shut down due to exhaustion; When having a depressive phase my mother couldn’t seem to wake up. Days would be spent in the bed, the only signs of life being the stifled cries coming from her bedroom.

For a small child, these moments could have been extremely scary and even downright traumatic, but my mother always found ways to keep us calm while remaining transparent about the seriousness of her condition. Transparency is a quality I always valued within my relationship with my mother and something I’ve carried into my relationship with my children. I respected my mother’s willingness to trust us with the details of her condition, which helped prevent the fear of the unknown. Although our mother kept us informed she also stressed that we weren’t to be afraid of things simply because we don’t understand them. It was important to her that we understood that everyone has their differences, and those differences often manifest themselves uniquely from person to person. We were never allowed to tease; My mother would not stand for insensitive behavior towards others. We weren’t given many rules, but treating all living things with love and respect was one of them. I’ve found in my life today the undeniable urge to protect those disadvantaged and to defend those oppressed. My mother’s incessant lessons of responsibility to others often fuels the parts of me that can’t pass up on an opportunity to educate, learn, or protect.

My mother is familiar with the feeling of struggling with one’s mental health and has always made sure she reminds the people she loves to protect and maintain theirs. As a child, this was not a trait I had the emotional maturity to appreciate, but now as an adult I regularly find myself suggesting therapy to my friends. There is a running joke amongst my social group that I am everyone’s therapist, but that’s only because I can’t allow a friend to struggle mentally, knowing there is some sort of comfort I could be providing them. My mother has always shown me the importance of checking on friends and supporting them in times of need. My favorite saying in our house is that compassion and empathy are truly keys to maintaining any relationship worth keeping. Occasionally, I have moments of doubt, where I fear I am overstepping somehow, but in those moments, I simply reflect on the values my mother has instilled within me, the value of friendship, and the fact that sometimes maintaining that value requires work.

Some of the most significant lessons I’ve learned in this life were learned by watching my mother. My mother is a woman of warmth and unconditional kindness. When people speak of my mother, they often refer to her as a pushover or docile but that’s because my mother’s heart is a rarity that most can’t accept. As a child, I can recall several instances where my mother modeled unconditional kindness in ways that stick with me to this day. After divorcing my father my mother struggled financially and regularly worked long hours just to keep us fed and sheltered. Most of the time we couldn’t even afford her medication or therapy.

Living in a household that operates below the poverty line meant my brother, mother, and I often shared bedrooms or lived in extremely close quarters. With this information most would conclude that we rarely had visitors or guests in our home, and most certainly never did we care for others even less fortunate than ourselves; however, this wasn’t the case.

Our home was known as a place anyone having a hard time could find an ear, conversation, a meal, or even a bed if needed. I can’t even begin to count the number of friends, family, or even perfect strangers my mother blindly and with zero hesitation fed, clothed, and housed. My mother always made a point to teach and show me that all living creatures deserve kindness. In my adult life, I regularly come across situations where someone requires kindness, and in those moments it’s as if I could hear my mother reminding me that the right thing is always to help where you can.

I’ve been asked before what possessed me to take in a child not biologically related to me 5 months after having a child of my own. Whenever I am asked why my partner and I chose to take on the responsibility of raising a child we didn’t create, I find myself sharing the story of my older sister, a girl my mother fostered after meeting in a delinquent detention center. When my mother brought her home I remember being overwhelmed with jealousy. My mother already had a daughter. What could she possibly want with another? I went to my mother furious and asked her plainly, “Why is she here?” My mother, recognizing the little green monster in my eyes, first hugged me then as she pulled away with a new firmness in her voice said “We have more than enough love in this house. I think you can afford to share.” At that moment my mother had not only acknowledged my fears and reaffirmed me, but she also taught me that when it comes to love, there will always be enough to go around. When we see an opportunity to help, we always take it. So when I announced the coming of our second child, I wasn’t phased when others would insinuate that this decision would in some way negatively impact my family, because my mother made sure I knew that love is endless and we can always afford to share. I truly owe my heart to my mother, who has spent my entire life filling it with nothing but love, kindness, and compassion.

For more information about mental health

https://nami.org/About-Mental-Illness/Mental-Health-Conditions/Bipolar-Disorder?gclid=CjwKCAjwzMeFBhBwEiwAzwS8zJmNt3Hlk1jASUNC8ROKb9Xk6cNrKjsE7RRMYNw700zVow_X0QwkiBoCTs0QAvD_BwE

https://www.thenationalcouncil.org/mental-health-month/?gclid=CjwKCAjwzMeFBhBwEiwAzwS8zB9jL44du_LDKoJ40O4W-dFUVpxCWRmp0MTPRP6RGVm1ykfWEYXE5hoCRzEQAvD_BwE