My parents are saints! I don’t know where to begin when it comes to what I have put them through? From a very early age I gave them grief. The amount of concern I have caused them time and time again is ridiculous and in many ways selfish. Not all of this was my fault, I don’t like blaming my mental illness on some of the situations I found myself in but in most cases it was due to this. This and alcohol.
The amount of times they spent in emergency wards with me, the amount of travel they did to visit me when I was in different hospitals, the sleepless nights they had when I was a risk of hurting myself, all of the things they do for me on a weekly basis. Even things like picking up my med’s, doing the shopping for me, letting me stay with them when I was basically homeless.
I’m living with them at the moment and have been for the last 18 months. It’s not ideal and a little embarrassing to be the age I am and staying with my folks but it works. We have learnt to live together and their happy to have me there (at least that’s what they tell me) They give me my space and they are even tolerant to my drinking. They hate it but they know there is a reason behind it. I mostly drink when I’m struggling with my health. They see this and have a certain amount of patience and understanding. I have my tea made for me every night. The utilities are taken care of. I pay rent but they make that more than affordable for me. I have it pretty good!