My mother is crazy

Many people might think their mother is crazy. Many people might blog about it. The whole psychiatric community might depend upon people thinking that their mother is the root of all of their problems. I happen to know for a fact that MY mother drives ME crazy.

Please understand that I'm not saying that my mother is the cause for my extremely unstable mental health history. I know better than to blame a certain person, or certain episode. Although I'd like to thank my DNA for making all this crazy possible...

I also have to thank myself, my choice of friends and lovers, my choice of situations that I put myself in, and also that random bastard, fate.

I used to think that fate was on my side. I used to think a lot of things... Then I got blindsided by a slew of situations that were my own doing, or un-doing. I really hit rock bottom. Anyone who knows what rock bottom feels like will understand this. I did things that I am not proud of. I went to places that I never want to be, again.

Eventually, I crawled out of it. I started making better decisions. I started to make life-altering decisions about a better person that I wanted to be. I stopped being a person that I did not like, any longer.

I hate to say it, but I have to say it - if my parents had not moved down to Florida, around the same time, I probably would never have gotten over it. Distance from my mother helped save me. There were other factors involved. Anyone who knows me really well, knows what they are. That is another story.

Detailing my mother's crazy is another whole post, also. She's staying with me for the summer, and I'm counting the minutes until she leaves. I love her, dearly, especially after her recent health problems - but I've realized just how much she affects my mental health. Small doses are better - familiarity breeds contempt. Is that horrible? Maybe. But it is the truth, as I see it.