Saving Herself by Saving Me: A Time My Mom Stood Up For Me

Though she blamed herself, it wasn't her fault.

My mother could not comprehend how I became the person who made her eyes swell with tears and who caused her heart to feel heavy deep within her. I had transformed into someone who subconsciously begged for her help, but refused it with cold shoulders and even colder words. I had developed into hate by the age of twelve.

Taking me to psychiatrists helped her sleep at night, while I had to rely on medicine to swallow me into an abyss that qualified as sleep. After many tearful nights, I was sent to a therapeutic boarding school - my mother deemed it my only pathway to sanity, while it made her empty. I did not witness her nervous breakdown, but when I saw her months later, her eyes were hollow and fatigued. Not only had she lost a daughter, but a kind soul that vanished into pure callousness.

After two years, I became the poster-child for success. I had finally been liberated - not from opinions of others, but from my own. The opinions that once brought dark clouds, transformed into optimism and encouragement. I had learned to confront my fears with honesty, to take responsibility for my behaviors, and to appreciate my family. I graduated from high school - something no one thought I would accomplish, but more importantly, I became me - a healed spirit, but only because my mother had paid attention to my depressive behavior years before.

My mother stood up for me that decisive day, not against the world or another individual, but against me. I gave her no choice but to come face-to-face with the enemy - her youngest daughter. I now know that in order to save herself, she had to save me.

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