Bipolar Mother

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Memoir  |  House: Booksie Classic
Trying to understand the silent, but debilitating disease called depression.

Submitted: March 09, 2008

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Submitted: March 09, 2008

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The dishes were starting to pile up on the sink. The milk had curdled at the bottom of the glass and there was no sign of life. My brother had left for his regular appointment with the local lads to play cricket at the neighbourhood park. I was wondering what other families would be doing on this sunny Saturday morning. I opened the fridge for the third time since I had awoken, but still the contents were the same. A tub of margarine, milk, cola beer and a wide selection of condiments. I walked towards my mother's room, knowing only to well what my eyes would see. The stale smell of sweat and cigarettes and a curtain that had not been opened for days. Her face was contorted and her body looked heavy. I was alone and hungry.

My bedroom was my comfort. When I closed my door, I could escape. I was normal within these four walls. I shuffled through the cassettes, looking for a tune to accompany my mood. Something slow and melodic. I closed my eyes and my mind took me to a place I had visited many times before. A fresh space filled with light and distant chatter. A family home fitted with a Mother and Father and a fridge full of food and hearts full of love.

I was disturbed by a familiar voice. I opened my eyes, to find an angel at my door. A caring tone and loving eyes offering me stability. " How long has she been asleep?" she asked. " About three days", I replied. I gathered my belongings, as I had done so many times before. I felt loved, wanted and relieved. My Nan had rescued me again.

Then it was time to go home. I returned to my bedroom and escaped into my mind, as I had done many times before.


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