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You know, we're fine. More than fine really.

When I am whining about my mom, I am in a depressive state. When I am fine, we are fine.

Generally, I know when I am whining that it is the depression getting the best of me. But at the same time, it's a real emotion. That I have to express. And better here than to her. She's taken enough of my crap in her lifetime.

I was chatting with some friends recently who all had similar experiences with some pretty dysfunctional parents. I had to sit silently because in my life it was me who was the psycho.

It was my mom who never knew who she was going to get. At any given moment. I could go from happy to angry in a split second. She (we) never knew when my wrath would sweep in, cutting a swath against her heart.

I know she lived in fear wondering what she might say or do that would set me off. Sometimes even nice things would get an "It's about time" outta me.

I've been on medication for six years. Our relationship has done a 180.

It hurt me for a long time. Those moments when I could hear her guard herself against what might be coming. If she was late to meet me. Or early. If she forgot something. Or did something without asking me.

It hurt a long time to know that I was the terror in my mom's life. But I can tell you with all honesty that there was something wrong with me. Something that medicine has fixed.

At first she was very upset when I went on the meds. I'm sure she thought she would get the blame somehow. But the reality is my brain was broken. It was like I had the spark plugs, they just weren't connecting.

I thank God for giving me the courage to go to the doctor that day and admit that something was really wrong with me. I am so grateful that I have this new relationship with my mom. Even though this may be the shortest time of our lives together, I am so thankful that these will be the memories I keep.

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