As a kid, I thought my life was great. I was happy and I had no worries, fears or reservations. Until the age of three it was just me, my sister and my mom, until my mom met a man. They dated for six short months and quickly jumped into marriage. I was hesitant, I didn't know this guy, and I wasn't sure if I trusted him with my mom, even at the age of four. As I got older I knew my mom was special, I wasn't aware that it was mental illness kind of special, but I knew she wasn't like the other parents.

By the time I was in the second grade, things progressively got worse with my mom. She was not getting out of bed and she barely spoke. When she did speak it was of her paranoia. She always had a fear that someone was watching us. Things got shaky between her and my step dad but I was too young to understand what all of the fights meant. She began falling into a deeper and darker pit of sadness and depression and I felt as though I had lost my mother.

Third Grade, age 8. My mother was still in a constant state of depression, except every once in a while she would have bursts of energy and be back to the mom I somewhat knew. Until March, when she woke up in the middle of the night, not breathing, having a panic attack. 911 was called and she was admitted into rehab. I found out that she had an addiction to cocaine, I was too young to understand what it was but I knew it was something bad. I spent the next two months at home with my grandmother and our housekeeper. My grandfather lived right near by and would come over everyday to help out with things. I spent Easter going to church and to the country club but this year it was without my mom. We went to visit her and I brought her a new stuffed teddy bear I got and told her my new words I could spell. She was grinning, happy and proud because of my spelling abilities. I stopped smiling and asked her if she was going to be okay, she looked at me with fierceness in her eyes and promised me she will and that she was going to come home soon.

Flash forward to sixth grade, my mother has dropped yet again into her deep dark pit of depression and I don't know how to handle it. I needed my mom to help me out with my transition into middle school but she didn't know how, she slept all day and never ate, she wallowed in self-pity and left me to do things mostly for myself. It was like this all throughout middle school, only it got worse as time went on. After giving birth to my twin brothers her mental state jumped to an all-time high that never came back down. She began to see things that were not there, hear things that were not said and believe things that never happened. My step father and I had different ways of handling this. I understood that she could not help nor control these things, I never called her crazy. I was frustrated, yes, because she couldn't take care of herself let alone me or my infant brothers, but I never did blame her. My step father began to drink more and take more medicine that came from who knows where, and it was a mixture that made him angry and violent, he couldn't take my mothers paranoia and depression anymore but instead of just leaving and walking away he gave her a reason to believe that she was crazy.

I knew she had issues from a young age but I never knew what it was. I knew my mom wasn't like the other moms because she wasn't as involved, I knew she had wrong ways of coping and dealing with her mental state, and I know to this day that she should have never let a man believe she was crazy.

She let her mental state get out of hand, and she did things I know she regrets. From attempting suicide only a year after finding out that my biological father had died from suicide to allowing a man to put his hands on herself and me. However, I do not hold a grudge. I do not call her crazy. Although I do not speak to my biological mother anymore, it is not because I think she is considered "crazy" or that I still hold a grudge, it is simply because I do not have to live with a depressed paranoid mom anymore, and it does make my life easier. I am not having to be a mom to my mom anymore, I can simply be the teenager that I am allowed to be.