From a longer piece titled “Things I Want to Tell My Mom on Mother’s Day” by Jeanette Byrnes.
“When I developed severe OCD in 8th grade, you found me a therapist immediately. You explained to me what was going on in my brain. You explained that my OCD was separate from me, and that having OCD wasn’t my choice. You helped me make sense of a debilitating mental illness at the tender age of 13. As OCD made my world smaller and smaller, you fought it with me, tooth and nail, every day. For a year you took me to therapy, you did my homework with me, you wrote me notes of encouragement, and you sat on the floor with me as I sobbed, tortured by my brain chemistry. These were some of the most painful days of my life, and you were my safety. You made a terrifying experience less terrifying. You gave me the tools I needed to recover. What a gift you gave me.”
Where would she be, I wonder, if her mom hadn’t sat on the floor with her?
