Two weeks ago my mother turned 65 and for her birthday my sister and I took her on a dinner train ride. It was a BEAUTIFUL fall day, the leaves were ablaze with colour. My mom had been talking about this day for months now - it was all she'd wanted for her birthday; her two children with her on her birthday.
On our way to the train station my mother's son (that's would be me) had a massive panic attack in the back seat of her car and started crying and hyperventilating. Her 44 year-old son out of control! It wasn't my first attack, but it certainly was my strongest. My sister, who was driving, had never seen me that way. It freaked her out a bit to say the least. And it all had to happen - ON MY MOM'S 65TH BIRTHDAY.
After the train rid, my mom and I had another one of those talks - the one where she says that I need help, that she could see me suffering, that she had seen me suffering for 25 years. We both cried, as we always do; but this time I took her advice to heart and sought help.
I just took my first anti-depressant medication today and will have my first psychiatrist appointment soon.
I heard my mom exhale loudly over the phone as I told her the news - it was as much a relief for her that it was for me.
Now that I know more about my situation I can look back at my life and see that this is not a recent problem - I've been unknowingly living with this for more than 25 years now. 25 years.
Now - what does the second half of my life have reserved for me? I'm unsure, but today I feel just a bit more hopeful.