My life has been negatively impacted by the mental illness and substance abuse of my parents. My foster parent, my paternal aunt was also mentally ill.

In turn, my PTSD has affected my partner, my spiritual community and my former co-workers.

My symptoms continue to wreak havoc in my life and in the lives of those around me. That's the way it goes. Yet, it doesn't mean my whole family is garbage or that I'm worthless as a human being. I do know what it feels like to be truly loved for my very being. I know what it feels like to be attended to with open, spacious presence.

My aim is to accept responsibility for my actions, but not blame and not shame.

Shame and blame are the domain of my abusers, not me.

There is a vast difference between accepting responsibility and assigning blame or negative judgment.

My mother may have been psychotic, but she also taught me to laugh. When she wasn't actively psychotic she was kind and thoughtful.

My father may have been depressed and suicidal, narcissistic and sex and alcohol addicted, but he taught me to dance. He taught me to play cards. He introduced me to many colorful characters--his gay friends.

He may have been conflicted, but he was loyal to his friends, and family, even when betrayed.

Accepting the positive along with the negative. Can any of us who suffer with mental illness---either our own or others ask for more?