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The Scarlet Mother
"I was a different person when she was around…angry, bitter, and most of all, ashamed. "
By Jennifer Marshall
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When Jennifer Marshall was younger, she used to be ashamed of her bipolar mother. Things became so bad that when Jennifer was 13, she moved away from her mother to the Bay Area. However, after going through therapy, Jennifer now credits her mom with helping her become the person she is today. (Thursday 6th on KQED)
In my high school biology class, everyone was asked what traits they inherited from their parents. While most students rattled off characteristics like eye color and nose shape, I shrank in my chair, praying not to be called on. I was ashamed of my inheritance. Not my physical attributes, but my mom’s mental illness.
My mother has always been a kind, loving person. As a child, I didn’t understand why she would go from manic to depressed in a matter of days or even hours.
When she was diagnosed as bipolar, I finally had a scapegoat. I couldn’t hate my mom, but I could hate the disorder that consumed her. .
As she checked herself into psych wards, my sister and I bounced back and forth between foster homes and my mom’s apartment in upstate New York. .
Sick of being the glue holding everyone together, at thirteen, I broke away and moved to the Bay Area. Each year, my mom came to visit. Even though I missed her, I dreaded seeing her again. I was a different person when she was around…angry, bitter, and most of all, ashamed. Everything about her embarrassed me. .
Her mismatched, oversized clothes, the way she moved--stiff and stumbling--even her smile. It was the smile of someone who’d been on a plethora of psychotic drugs. My instinct was to turn around and run back to the car. But then I felt guilty for feeling that way about someone who gave me life. .
Now that I’ve been through therapy, I’ve begun to forgive my mother. I remember the nights when I was the only one to comfort her during her worst bouts of depression. My mother taught me compassion, how to love and care about people. I don’t know who I’d be if I hadn’t grown up with a bipolar mom, and now I know that’s nothing to be embarrassed about. .
With a perspective, I’m Jennifer Marshall.
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