Something I’ve never talked about is being crazy and being a mum, the two are opposing forces pulling on me everyday, my mental health is selfish, it tells me to do things to me, makes me distant, makes me angry but my mothering, my mothering is the least selfish thing in the world. I can’t count the times I’ve got up in the middle of the night to stroke his fevered forehead, to cuddle him back to sleep after a nightmare, to read a story because he can’t sleep. The mornings where all I’ve wanted is to bury myself in my duvet but I’ve got up, got dressed, plastered a smile on my face, for him, it’s all for him.
At the same time, I have spent hours locked away. hiding from him, hiding my tears, hiding my pain. Suffering in silence while he plays in the next room. Even sat next to him and wrote these words, let my pain leak out with the tapping of the keys on the laptop, the words scribbled in a notebook. Told the world how much I want to die, while he’s right next to me watching the latest disney.
How is this possible? How does this work? This sweet innocent life, the life I made, the life I bled for, the life I cherished before he existed outside of my body. The bond between us is the tether that holds me here.
So I’ll suffer inside and mother outside and he’ll hold me here, without ever knowing how much and how often, he literally saved my life.