I should have known. Generations of alcoholism, mental illness and abuse found its way through me and into my daughter. How fucking arrogant of me to believe I had the education, tools and capability to “give someone the chance that I was denied”. Did I not realize that my child might inherit the family’s mental illness? Could I not see the damage that even limited (but loving) contact with close relatives might cause?

Sick parents produce sick offspring. Years of therapy, 12-Step programs, prenatal classes, baby development seminars, parenting classes and parent-infant involvement courses – all of these – were not enough to teach me how to be a “good enough” mother or how to understand and connect with my daughter. Obviously, I was not well enough to be an effective parent – not well enough to give my child insight or to guide my child in overcoming problems. Sweet Jesus, what have I done?

It is not enough to know that “I did the best I knew how.” My Mom did the best she knew how, and she was the result of a borderline, bipolar, mother. As a result, Mom and I experienced a “failure to bond”. Mom once told me, “You’re a very difficult child to love.” I developed Major Depressive Disorder, feeling lost in life, until diagnosis and treatment as an adult. So, why did I invest so much of my life into “beating the system” - perpetuating this cruel cycle? Anyone, looking in from the outside, would have seen my maternal folly. Hindsight is 20/20!

You place nine

blueberries

on your knockoff cornflakes.

On the fridge there hangs a list and it is the recipe to happiness.

It starts with blueberries and a balanced breakfast

yoga

some work

some play

you need a balance in your day

after all.

A jog.

Careful, mindful steps towards completion

early to sleep and early to rise.

This is healthy.  This is happy.

You are happy.

( But about what about that time we walked all night - )

Hush.  You are happy.

( - to get to school

down the mountain through the forest and along the lake where we drank sangria and ate strawberries

and our soles were bared because our shoes were badly chosen and we were too tired to guard our words against each other

stumbling into class at 8:17 two minutes after the bell went and no one knew what we'd been through and  - )

Go for a jog.

Gently, now.  Push yourself but not too hard.

A drink in the evening

with friends

it's Friday after all

but one beer and avoid cigarettes darling

they're a filthy habit.

( - passing a cigarette between fumbling fingers

because it was so cold but you loved him a little

so you stayed and watched

the sun rise over the - )

Read a bestselling book

it'll give you something to talk about at parties.

( - standing in front of a public bathroom mirror

for an hour and convincing yourself that you cannot

possibly

exist

because Descartes wasn't thorough enough and

the pragmatists are ridiculous - )

Go to bed early.  

Take a pill to kill the anxiety 

and to - 

( - sleepless nights and tears

the kind of laughter only exists when you’re a little bit tipsy and haven’t slept in thirty six hours and you’re both profoundly miserable and elated because look look look at that sunrise.

Look at the crazy people at the mad angry broken people).

- block the bad dreams.

(You had better enjoy those nine blueberries.)

You've done it you've made it

Look at you

you big shot, star-shooting golden girl

with your clean socks and your

shiny curls

You're on top of the shit-heap now

crawled your way to the tip of the dung

the crest of the crap

to peer over the stinking ledge

at the breathtakingly bleak view

of the future you'd had so much hope for.

Queen of the Cold-Hearted

and of the other pretty girls who

thought that up was the answer,

who turned down the snaggletoothed boys they loved

so that life wouldn't snaggle them

on its dull dreary planes

of flat boredom

and getting a rush out of a sale on dish soap.