I would if I could. I would take the chaos in your mind so you could have peace. I would absorb the terror you feel when you know reality is slipping away. I would cry a thousand tears for you to smile. I would shoulder the pain your body feels. I would stand in the whirlwind, listening to the wind whistle in the tunnel that leads to that dark place in your mind so you could stand in the sunshine.
I would stand under the weight of your self loathing as you struggle to feel "normal" if only you could see yourself as I see you. I would gladly bear the piercing pain your mind inflicts when the depression brings migraines crashing down if only you could live pain free. I would give you my will, my strength, my determination, my drive, if you never had to feel hopeless again.
The most helpless feeling in the world is to watch my child suffer. To know that I can't love her enough to take this horrible thing called bipolar from her. I can't love her enough for her not to feel that she is a burden to me. For her to feel that she contributes to this world. Why can't my love do that?
The most terrifying thing in this world is to understand that one day she may well decide that this world is too much for her. More to the point, that the world would be better off without her. And then I will have nothing left to give. There will be nothing left, but the bitter wind that whispers her name.
I struggle to not shut everyone out. If I soften, I will break. If I give, I can not remain strong. I run this race against time.. Afraid that I will not be strong enough to hold her up until she can stand on her own again. I am so stressed, so afraid, so brittle, that every word feels like an insult, and accusation that I am not measuring up. That I have failed in some way. The most important way.
I feel that no one understands my fear, my terror. The world continues on, yet no one, not one understands this pain.. This sheer terror. I often wonder.. can no one see? Can truly no one see that I am bleeding to death? How do I make them understand? I think I could write, and write, and write, and no one would understand living with the fear that your child is beyond your reach, your help, your power to fix. I fix things, that is what I do... yet this is beyond my ability..