How I Bounce Back When Mom Is Not Around

I had many worries growing up. I was a child who had less GABA than others. My mom soon acknowledged this, after I was diagnosed with Bipolar Affective Disorder II and its primary feature, anxious distress.

Back then, I thought Mom didn’t care about the jitters I felt. Or I converted such thoughts after confessing to her about my troubles, and not feeling like I was heard based on her verbal or non-verbal responses. I had the premise that she was more rational than me, and I was being overtly emotional to her.

It took me a while to realize that it was actually the opposite of what was happening in my mind.

She used to pamper me and help me when I felt stuck. She kept worrying yet, I was the one consistently thinking of a solution or plan to my problems.

That, or I had grown stronger, and it is highly likely that it’s both.

I’m familiar with how many people describe a Mother’s love as it meets no ends — A penultimate sacrifice.

I’ve realized late that when I tend to have problems, she was always the person worried and looking for ways to help me. I didn’t ask for her shoulders but she would always lend them to me.

I tend to forget that life was that easy for me when she was here.

The asset I once had, is long gone but never forgotten. Always cherished in my mind, always remembered how loved I was and how she’s never going to be separated from my heart.

I have to keep striving even when she’s not around and I know it’s a tough battle. Nobody’s out anymore to pamper or help me similarly when I feel lost or stuck because Mom is no longer here. I know that.

I learned just recently from my psychologist that I had the unique trait as a person with the disorder to have an organized flight of ideas. I was fervently focusing on ways to alleviate my stresses. I tend to keep looking until I find a solution to my distress.

It’s now even more necessary than ever as I face my battles without the same shoulders to lean on.

With this, my instinct was to fight the depressed feeling that I was generating from my unpleasant thoughts.

I attended mass today, as part of my spiritual routine and continuous rekindling of faith as a Roman Catholic. I asked God for strength — like how it’s ever been for me since.

I kept wanting to concentrate on the spiritual gathering and the ceremonials included in the mass. But, my mind was flooded with simple fixes, and newly formulated solutions I could yet try. I was in distress and it felt like doomsday inside my head.

I’m not yet officially a fresh undergraduate, but it will happen soon. Thinking about this new life without my Mom, I walked through finding the right career paths and have suddenly become burdened by it.

I found out as if in a simulation, how difficult it is to look for jobs. I find this experience an advantage mainly because I’ve arrived here earlier than others in my batch by trying out myself through quiet job searching.

As obnoxious to me as it sounds, this experience of mine declares a clearer version of what some adults I know say about the step of “adulting” and how it feels underwhelming a phase for them.

Well, I used to think life itself is hard and that sucks if you only look at life that way. But, being in this situation now, I could quite understand what those adults around me mean when they said “adulting” is totally different. That you’ll miss the days when you had more time to do the things you wanted.

They just didn’t want to be direct that adulting is hard. On top of that, the responsibilities aren’t just what makes it hard, the transition does too.

There was a time that after taking a short break from job hunting, I suddenly felt languished. I have done a lot — things I never did and never thought of doing. Just so I could earn an income for myself. It was a difficult adjustment for me and I didn’t want to fall back into a depressed episode.

I had doubts about myself and I wasn’t sure if I was suited for the jobs I was applying for. Then, I wondered how Mom would have responded if she knew about this. The question I really wanted to ask her is,

“Am I doing well?”

I could easily open things up to her right away. It wasn’t a problem I had in the past. She was quite open-minded to many things. I was glad I influenced her to become a better person. I knew her horizon widened because of me and my mental health diagnosis. She was my jackpot in a lottery ticket for a Mom.

I knew right after she passed away that I had to become more responsible for my life and it was something I didn’t know if I was ready about.

I was also afraid of that responsibility because I depended on my Mom. I had to be honest with myself about that. Mom, on the other hand, liked taking care of me. We were inseparable and we matched well. So, in my head, as a person cared for and loved with all their heart, I had to take care of myself the same way. I didn’t want my Mom in heaven to worry. I always wanted to make her proud each day after I lost her.

So, right after mass ended, I went straight home, thinking about the best solution I could offer to myself who was weary, stressed out, and weak.

I said to myself a single sentence and all came flowing out what I really had to do for myself,

“I’m going to sleep early tonight.”

I was going to give myself just what it should have. I don’t care if finding the right career would take longer as the time would be spent on my rejuvenation. I knew I deserved the world and I was treating my body ungodly, beating it to comply with nonstop demands. I was being a slave to my impulses and solution-finding acts. I had to step out of my courage zone back to my comfort zone and take a leap of faith that things would still fall in their right places.

After all, I have a guardian angel with me, still rooting for me above. Still the same old classic lovable and caring Mom I know, I cherish and love, that was never far from my heart.