Sigh of Relief
My mom is schizophrenic. We’ve dealt with it since we were kids. It was an absolutely horrible childhood and we (the kids) knew it was wrong, all of it. Most people thought she was odd or “eccentric” but they didn’t see everything.
Just that 15-minute glimpse of people you see when you meet them. Now in my mid-40s, dealing with her in her mid-70s, I have no sympathy. I have nothing but hatred and disgust.
All of us kids feel the same but the rest of the family and her friends all feel sympathy for her and feel like “something went wrong” later in life. But we all know, us kids. We had to live through it.
Every horrible episode, every scary disturbing freakout. Every time she literally pulled her own hair out or smashed her head into the wall until she knocked herself out.
As kids (me at 4 years old, being the youngest) we cleaned her up and covered her in a blanket for when she woke up. Yup. That’s the secret.
Or maybe the secret is when she dies all of her kids will breathe a heavy sigh of relief and finally move on with their lives as if a giant weight has been lifted. Story credit: Reddit / tuckyruck