I've worked a long time and very hard to not let my mom try to run my life. She didn't mean to do so in a bad way, she thought she was helping, but it just made things harder. Things are a lot better now than back when all I could do, all I knew to do, was just scream things at her like "This is MY HOUSE" (which I can't do now). It took a long time for her to understand that bipolar wasn't just a passing phase in my life. Honestly I think it took my going on disability for that to sink in. When I was more stable she'd try to get me to say that I thought I'd never have another episode. Which was completely unrealistic. She still has no idea how incredibly sick I was in Dec. 2011 when I spent Christmas IP; she was mad because the holiday plans had to be re-arranged. I had never let anyone visit; I told her that she could when I knew I'd be in there for the holiday weekend. She didn't come. I hadn't let her because I knew that she wouldn't handle the environment well and if she noticed I was the only one with bipolar and often the sickest one on that unit she'd struggle with it. But she was never going to come anyway.

Therapy has helped a lot as has letting her see me when I'm bad. Only for moments but she does see it. There is a lot more to do in therapy to make me stop re-arranging everything in my life to try to make her happy. That is hard stuff and it seems like we touch on it and then things go wrong and it's a while before we go back to it.

I feel very in debt to her because not only does she provide me with a home for cheap and she feeds me a few times a week b/c I can't afford meat so she always shares that, she has continued working part-time past retirement and I know paying for my little house is part of way. She says it is really so she has money for other things that are fun but if she didn't have the mortgage she'd have more money. I will never not feel bad about that.

But it is still my life and I've had to realize that I'm the one who makes decisions for me. It's weird things, like I had ankle reconstruction surgery last year. My ankle was injured for several years and I wore a clunky brace to keep it from injuring itself further. She was always a little uncomfortable with that and with my limp. It was like she was self-conscious except it was about me. It made no sense but that's how it was. She still seems a little too aware if I happen to limp or if I'm doing something that makes me need my brace and then go out in public. But at the same time she tries to tackle things that are just too hard for her because she doesn't want me to risk injuring my ankle again. It's just so complicated.

I hope things start to work out for you. I know it's hard.