Finding my passion

Everything happens for a reason. Running into old friends, meeting new ones, and moving schools. I always thought my mom passing away wasn’t fitting regarding this statement, but now that I’m older I see it does. My mom passing away helped me find my passion. It sounds harsh, and I don’t feel for her loss, but I do. I have felt the pain of her loss all my life. I’ve accepted that she’s gone and have learned about the things she did. I understood it wasn’t my fault or that she was selfish. I learned that it was something she couldn’t handle and the only way for her to be happy was out.

When I was old enough to understand what she did I saw her as selfish. I was only two when she took her life. She wasn’t in the right mental state to have a kid and she did anyway, she left me, she left my dad, and she left everyone who loved her. She didn’t get the help she needed and thought that it was the only way she could be happy. At one point I even blamed myself for what she did, that she hated me and didn’t want me. I do see now that it wasn’t and that she just wasn’t getting the proper help she needed. My mom was sick. Not physically, but mentally. They were she felt wasn’t normal and her moods were always lower than normal. As I got older I got curious and asked questions.

Getting older got harder, the more I asked questions. My dad would always try to answer as briefly as possible or would say he would tell me when I got older. Finally, when I was around 10, he told me that she had bipolar. He explained that it had something to do with the brain and that it caused high highs and low lows in moods. My dad said that these moods could change rapidly. With my mom, he said that she mostly experienced the lower lows and had stopped taking her medication. I began thinking about bipolar more and how it connected with the brain. I researched what it was, and how it affected people physically and mentally.

Going into middle school I was still interested in bipolar and how it could affect someone. I started researching more into other mental illnesses, and their correlation with the human brain, medications, and their side effects. As the questions about careers after high school came up, I was lost. I knew I wanted to help people like my mom and get them the help that she never got. Looking over each career none of them sounded interesting until I found out that psychologists got to work hands-on with people who have mental illnesses and how it can affect their behavior to their emotions. I felt relief and excitement when I found out what they did, that they helped people with bipolar and other mental illnesses. It was exactly what I was looking for.

What my mom is still painful and knowing that she had to make the decision and went through with it. I think of her every day and how she was hurting, how she couldn’t get the help she needed. I want to be a psychologist not just because of what my mom did but so I can make a difference and help people. The thought of knowing that I can help people who are going through what my mom did feels like I’m helping her in some way, that I’m making her proud.