Mental Garden

Chapter Twelve : Roots

Part One:

As I journeyed through my path of healing and growth, I began to notice subtle changes in my mom's behaviour that had gone unnoticed before. Slowly, but surely, I became aware of the signs of her internal struggle with mental health. The once strong and vibrant woman I had known seemed to be slipping away, and I felt powerless to help her. As our relationship grew distant, I couldn't shake the feelings of resentment that had started to bubble within me. I found myself becoming frustrated with her negativity, her lack of motivation, and her unwillingness to seek help. It hurt to witness her unhappiness, and I couldn't understand why she refused my offers of support and encouragement.

In my heart, I knew that my mom's struggles were beyond my control, and I tried my best to empathize with the pain she must have been feeling. But as much as I tried to be patient and understanding, the frustration grew, and I felt a growing sense of disconnection. I had seen how therapy had helped me, and I wanted that same opportunity for my mom. So, I gently pushed her to seek professional help, hoping it would bring some relief to her suffering. She agreed to try, but her journey was short-lived, and she eventually gave up, unable to find the motivation to continue.

I couldn't help but feel a sense of defeat. It was as if all my efforts to support her had been in vain. I realized that, ultimately, my mom had to be willing to embrace the healing journey herself, and I couldn't force her to change. As time went on, my mom's mental health issues began to consume our relationship. It became increasingly challenging to communicate with her, as her negativity and unhappiness permeated every interaction. I felt like I was walking on eggshells, afraid that any attempt to offer help or encouragement would be met with resistance or rejection.

My heart ached for my mom, knowing that she was trapped in a cycle of despair and hopelessness. I wanted so desperately to be her support system, to be the person she could lean on in times of struggle. But every attempt to break through the walls she had built around herself seemed to be met with resistance.

I had to come to terms with the fact that I couldn't fix my mom's struggles, and I still have trouble coming to terms with it. I couldn't save her from her pain or force her to seek help. It was a heartbreaking realization, but one that taught me the importance of boundaries and self-preservation. Despite the challenges in our relationship, I knew that deep down, my love for my mom remained unwavering. While I may not have had all the answers, I could continue to offer her love, understanding, and support, even from a distance.

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I understood the courage it took to face the demons within, the same demons that had once haunted me. I wanted to be the person she could lean on, the one who would not shy away from the difficult conversations and the raw emotions. So, I offered to be the bad guy, the one who would deliver the unfiltered truth, as I had never had someone like that for myself.

I hoped that my openness and vulnerability would create a safe space for her to open up about her struggles, but instead, I was met with a wall of resistance. It was as if she feared what lay beneath the surface, afraid of what she might find if she dared to look within. The avoidance of her mental health issues stung, and it felt like she was rejecting the hand I had extended in love and concern. I offered understanding and support, but it seemed like she would rather remain in her cocoon of denial, shielding herself from the truth.

It was as if she had spat on the very hand that had reached out to lift her. The rejection stung, but I knew that healing was a choice she had to make for herself. As much as I wished to carry her burdens and lead her to a place of peace, I understood that her journey was hers alone to navigate.

It was a bittersweet realization, one that taught me the importance of honouring each person's journey, no matter how difficult it might be to watch from the sidelines.

Part Two:

As my mom's struggles continued to affect our relationship and take a toll on my mental health, I found myself turning to my dad in search of understanding and support. I longed for someone who could empathize with my feelings and offer guidance, as he had been a source of strength for me in the past. With a heavy heart, I approached my dad, pouring out my concerns and frustrations about my mom's refusal to confront her mental health issues. I shared how her avoidance was taking a toll on both of us and how witnessing her suffering was triggering my anxiety and depression.

To my surprise, my dad's reaction wasn't what I had expected. Instead of offering a comforting embrace or wise counsel, he seemed uncomfortable discussing the topic. It was as if he, too, was grappling with his own emotions surrounding my mom's struggles. I felt a sense of rejection, a feeling of being pushed away from helping someone I cared deeply about. It was disheartening to realize that even someone as close to me as my dad wasn't ready or willing to engage in a deeper conversation about my mom's mental health. Despite my frustration, I couldn't blame my dad entirely. Mental health is a complex and sensitive subject, and not everyone is equipped to handle discussions surrounding it, even if they have good intentions. It was a stark reminder that everyone has their emotional limits and may not be ready to confront certain issues.

In some ways, it felt like I was back at the beginning of my healing journey, struggling to find someone who could fully comprehend the weight of mental health challenges. It was a painful reminder that, just like my mom's healing journey, my dad's journey was his own, and I couldn't force him to be the support I needed at that moment.  While my dad might not have been able to offer the support I craved, there were other avenues for me to explore, like my sisters.

With my heart heavy and seeking understanding, I turned to my sisters for support in navigating the complexities of our mom's mental health struggles. As we gathered together, I felt a sense of relief knowing that they were willing to listen and empathize with my feelings.Sharing my concerns with my sisters was both cathartic and comforting. They, too, had noticed the changes in our mom's behavior and the toll it was taking on our family dynamics. They listened attentively as I poured out my fears and frustrations, knowing that they, too, were grappling with their own emotions about the situation.

As we huddled together, we pondered the best way to support our mom without making things worse. One suggestion that arose was to stage an intervention, a united effort to confront our mom about her mental health struggles. But deep down, I knew that this approach might not be the best course of action. Our mom's tendency to turn everything into a negative and defensive situation made us cautious. We feared that an intervention could trigger more resistance and push her further away from seeking help. We had to approach this with sensitivity, understanding that change had to come from her own willingness to confront her struggles.

The decision not to stage an intervention didn't mean we were giving up on our mom's healing journey. Rather, it reflected our deep understanding of her emotional needs and the importance of preserving our connection with her. We continued to be there for her, even when she refused to seek help. Through our own healing journeys, we had learned that forcing someone to change wasn't effective; instead, it was essential to offer love, patience, and support, trusting that she would find her way when the time was right.