My whole life I have tried to understand what was going on with my mom. Sometimes I did understand. Most times, still, I do not.
But this post is not actually about my mother's mental illness. It's about mine.
Two years ago I started taking medication for Anxiety and Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. I was terrified to see the doctor. I was afraid to even entertain medication. Driving into the parking lot that morning was a big accomplishment. I recall the details clearly.