mental wellness

Mama Rendón

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Mom in High School.

The heart of a mother is a deep abyss at the bottom of which you will always find forgiveness. -Honore de Balzac

Not everyone is blessed to have a good mother or even a mother at all. I got really lucky because not only do I have my mother, I have a great one. She is a superhero and I don’t deserve her. To describe her in short – she is an introverted extrovert. Small talk isn’t her favorite, but she can certainly hold her own. When she laughs, like really laughs, it’s a whole moment. She laughs so hard that it takes her 5 minutes to breathe again. It’s contagious and you can’t help but laugh with her. She never yells. In fact, she does worse than yelling. She just gives you “the look” when she’s mad and it’s terrifying. At 35 years old I’m still scared of her. In general she is the sweetest, most thoughtful, smartest, most intelligent person I’ll ever know.

People say we look alike, some even say I’m a spitting image of her, but I could never live up to a beauty like that. She is the essence of the word inside and out.

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Mom’s wedding portrait.

She was and still is to me the safest place.

Now, I will digress for a moment. My father passed away from complications due to Cancer when I was 26 years old. Losing him destroyed me. I was the epitome of a Daddy’s Girl. I was spoiled and got everything I ever needed and wanted. In hindsight, it didn’t do me too many favors to be as spoiled as I was, but I understand why he did it. He just wanted to make me happy. I am a lot like my father. I am temperamental, affectionate, and impulsive. Especially the tempermental part (sorry, Mom).

Cancer is kind of like Bipolar Disorder in that it simply takes. Now that Daddy is not here anymore I find that I cling to my mother even more. In fact, I wasn’t just a Daddy’s Girl, I was a Mama’s Girl, too. As a little girl I was always holding on to her and hiding behind her. She was and still is to me the safest place.

When I first started having mental health issues my parents were at a loss. We all were. No one knew anything about this stuff. The most I knew was that I didn’t feel okay. When I was 22 I moved out into my first apartment. My symptoms became severe and I was nose diving straight into rock-bottom. It got so bad one day that I called my mom, who was living in California at the time, absolutely hysterical.

My mom was on a plane the next day to get me. The next day.

The day my mom got to Texas, we went right over to my job and filed for FMLA (Family Medical Leave of Absence). We also had an emergency appointment with my doctor. I don’t remember many details about that day, but I remember that it was the day I was diagnosed. The next day was July 4th, 2006. We got in the car and started our drive to California, stopping to get my sister who lived in another city at the time and take her with us. As it turned out my grandfather was dying and we were in a rush to get back to see him before he passed. When it rains it pours, right?

We lost my grandfather a day and a half after we got back to California. Not only had mother had just lost her daddy and she was on the verge of losing her youngest daughter. I cannot imagine how she was feeling.

She’d come into my room every single morning, wake me up, give me my medication, and let me go back to sleep. Who else, but my mother, would do that for me?

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My 29th Birthday.

We learned a lot during that time, and I think she, in those times of monitoring and observing me learned more about me than I was capable of learning about myself. First of all, as I mentioned, my memory is foggy. Bipolar Disorder can do that to you. Memories are just another thing it takes. I mostly remember my general emotional state, and if it weren’t for my mother I may not have survived. She found me a therapist and made my appointments for me. She made sure I took my medication at the same time every single day. I remember sleeping and sleeping as if I just needed a break from the sheer exhaustion of life. She’d come into my room every single morning, wake me up, give me my medication, and let me go back to sleep. Who else, but my mother, would do that for me?

My emotional outbursts are extreme. I get so worked up that I cannot breathe. I cannot think. I cannot fathom another second of this existence. My mother is the one person on this planet that knows how to bring me down. She is the only one who understands what I need in that moment. Not only has she learned from years of experience, but simply put, she’s a mom. My mom. She knows me. She puts her arms around me, holds me very tightly, and tells me to breathe, to count, and to calm my mind. Sometimes it takes longer than others, but it works. I can’t think of anyone else that can do this.

There will never be a time in my life when I’m not feeling well that I won’t want my mom.

Losing my father made life get real really fast. It put a lot of things into perspective. I’ve mentioned before that right now my medications work. Apparently they won’t forever, and the fear of a relapse is just hanging out there in the back of my mind. Mom always says, “Don’t worry until you have to worry.” She’s right, but one day she, like my father, will leave this world and I do not know who on this planet will help me. I rely on her so much. Maybe too much.

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Mom and me, about 2014.

I know I shouldn’t think that far into the future. It’s not here yet and hopefully it doesn’t arrive for a good good while. I always tell her she needs to make up for the fact that Daddy left us too soon. She just laughs.

She has seen me at my absolute worst, but after many years I am stable and highly functional. She has been with me through every second of this journey and I know it’s taken a long time for her to trust that I am okay. Most importantly, she has forgiven me for the horrible things I did and said when I was not well. It might have been the Bipolar talking but the words still came out of my mouth. I take responsibility for that.

Mom’s are special. Everyone knows that. My mother is exceptional because not only is she simply a fabulous person, she is my hero. She has saved my life more times than I can count. I am indebted to her in more ways than I’ll ever be able to repay her for. There will never be a time in my life when I’m not feeling well that I won’t want my mom.

So, with that said…

Mom,
You never gave up on me and I wouldn’t still be here without your guidance and support. Your faith and never-ending supply of love are inspiring. I hope that one day I can be half the woman you are. You embody every good quality in the world. You are my Super Woman.

Thank you for helping me live. 

I love you more.

Love Always,
Weezie

 

If you can, go hug your mom. 

 

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