When they said she might be bipolar it all made sense.
One full day of hospitals.
More hatred than I could imagine from my own kid.
The one I had sacrificed for, spoiled, given everything to, the one I wore the same clothes to give to for at least 5 years.
The one who would never let me comfort her. The one I couldn’t help with bike riding. The one that outright lies for no reason about a teacher not letting her eat lunch when she’s 7.
The one that’s told me how to mother her, her entire life.
I thought it was my fault anyway.
Until the medical professionals started looking at me like Frankenstein because my daughter just swallowed 75 of her Ritalin pills.
She’s something else.
A different disorder.
But she’s got her therapist around her finger because damn is she good at that.
I’m just different.
Different with her, with my son,
Just less of something I cannot ever put into words.
It’s mostly war and quiet and tired mixed with it all. Whatever it is.
I’m not sure it gets better.
You get used to a certain level of the misery though according to some psychologist comedian.
So there’s that.
I just constantly hope that I can learn to not be like every other mother and keep my happiness disproportional to hers directly.
I remember the physicist.
He said his daughter was 35,
And it was another boy too,
It was the 8th stent since 15.
And I remember the feeling of actually not having to dumb my words down to have a conversation. Or having to sugarcoat anything. Or having to pretend I even cared to fit into a society that didn’t help any of the four of us before then. One that probably led to it all anyway.
I’m reading all the books he recommended now.
And it’s just statistics despite the advertising on the cover. Things I can do for myself.
I just got this roll and it’s mine to roll with too.
I do get the occasional entertainment of watching men lose their minds over her.
Yes, she’s absolutely gorgeous, mostly nice when she wants something or attention, but batshit, her sperm donor is a military ballistics psychopath, she’s warp the entire rest of your life manipulative, never be satisfied, controlling, hoarder from my mother crazy. Good luck to you brother.
I’m her mother. I get the limited really good days by default.