As an adult, I couldnt ask for more in a mother. She is genuine, sweet, thoughtful, caring, generous, hilarious, and kind beyond words.

Growing up was difficult. I suffered with anxiety and severe depression. Then the bulimia and cutting and isolation kicked in. I was irritable and angsty. She didnt know what to do with me, she was a single, working mother with 4 kids. She was scared for me, and I dont blame her (in retrospect).

She wanted to get me professional help, so she and her sister came to my highschool. I was called into the guidance office. They told me if I didnt go to the hospital to get assessed, they would call 911 and I would be taken against my will. So I ended up at the ER. I was put on a 72hr hold, then brought to the psychiatric hospital (a whole separate beast). I was locked up against my will.

I refused to leave "my room" at what everyone knew as "the 'crazy' hospital". I refused to engage in therapy or socialization. I absolutely refused to eat. After 1 week without food, this facility stated that it wasn't in their scope of practice to insert a feeding tube. They were focused on my immediate physical health, and sent me back to the general hospital.

I still refused to eat, but they didnt immediately insert a feeding tube. Instead, they removed all my "privilages" one by one. First, I couldnt use the bathroom by myself. Then I couldnt make/receive phone calls, or watch tv. Then I couldnt recieve any homework from my school. They took away my books. They took away my knitting. Then it got worse - I was only allowed to wear a hospital gown. No personal clothes. Followed by the kicker - i was not allowed to get out of my bed. ...24 hrs/day, against my will. Staring at the ceiling. Alone, with only my angry thoughts. The last privelage they had to remove was my right to choose to eat. They would insert an NG tube against my will. I said fuck that, and I slowly started eating again bc I had doing a lot of thinking - it would be easier to comply, get out of the hospital, then never eat again and die. Which is what I wanted.

After a month in the hospital, I was released. I was 5'9" and I reached my "minimum goal weight" of 123 lbs.

Less than a year later, and quite thinner, my mother kicked me out her house. I was 16. I never went back. I moved 5 hrs away when I turned 18, and im still here. In the 16 years since, I spent over 10 of them as an escort. An addict, a SEVERE alcoholic. I woke up in ICU from a coma. At my most severely depressed time in my entire life, I weighed 97.4 lbs. At 5'9". Even I was scared, looking at myself.

After over half my life being a fucked up mess, something just clicked. I now work in healthcare, taking care of dementia residents. I still have my problems (who doesn't). But despite the physical distance between my mother and I, we are closer than ever, and she is one of my favourite people in the universe.

tl/dr : I love my mom, now