We share our mothers health

Min lilla familj har haft det väldigt tufft under en lång tid och det fanns en tid när jag trodde att vi inte skulle ta oss ur situationen med hälsan och förståndet i behåll.  Jag gav dock aldrig upp utan fortsatte att kämpa för att min dotter skulle få den hjälp hon så väl behövde. Efter många långa och hårda kamper kom till slut vändningen och i dag lever vi i vad man skulle kunna kalla harmoni.

Texten ( i censurerad form) här nedanför skrev min dotter och det är det klart värdefullaste beviset på att det var värt all den smärta, alla tårar och all den frustration som krävdes för att få henne på fötter och för att få henne att tro på att det finns en framtid där ute, även för henne.

Texten publiceras med min dotters tillstånd!

Till sist ett citat till alla föräldrar som sliter för sina barn där ute: ”Du är deras livlina. Att misslyckas är inget alternativ” (Martin L. Kutscher)

We share our mothers health

I want to make my mum justice for all of the times when I’ve blamed her for giving birth to me without even asking if it’s OK by me. I grew up with a bipolar disordered father with a broken heart and soul that wouldn’t even touch me with gloves on or look at me, his own daughter who got his nose and forehead, with sunglasses on. I wasn’t the only one who blamed my mum, he did it as well and one day, about 11 years ago, she blamed her as well so she ran off. After two or three years […], I ran after her, 12 years old and ready to die because I had already seen it all […].

And every day after work, he came home and took a piece of me and when there was nothing left, he took some more. When I was nothing, I stopped blaming my mum and started to blame myself instead for being worthless.

But one day, my mum drove home to my dad and collected every little piece of me in a cute box and piece by piece, she fixed me and turned me into a human from a road kill. And that is why my mum is the best person ever.

She deserves nothing else but an award. My mum is a single mum with a lousy economy and she struggles her way through life but the difference between her and my father is that when she comes home from work, she do everything she can to keep me together. In this moment, my eyes are starting to tear up because I get so emotional when I think of all the things that she has done for me. But the greatest thing of all is that she, unlike others, thinks of me as someone that will make it and she touches my heart when she every morning, in the car on her way to work, mumbles that it’s going to be me, I’m going to lead the morning sections n the radio sometime, very soon.