Today, my mother brought home my antidepressants,

I've never been prescribed pills for my emotional state,

I've self-medicated for years with magick and self-harm.

Today, my mother brought me her diagnosis.

 

My mother's diagnosis did not involve compassion or love,

It was full of anger, hate, and resentment.

Her words held no pity, no tact, no care.

Her eyes glossed over, as if she did not know who she was talking to.

 

My mother didn't tell me her diagnosis,

But rather, she yelled and screamed it at the winds

With little to no regard for the effect it had upon my heart.

Condemning me and my disease.

 

She threw my pills on the table,

Screamed at me to take them as prescribed.

"Your actions have consequences," she chastised,

"You don't take into consideration how this affects me!"

 

My mother ignored my questions and confusion during the ride to the doctor.

But rather, she stopped to run errands and told me to stay in the car.

It has been days since she's said something nice.

It's been days since she's talked without yelling.

 

My mother gave me strict instructions on the ride back,

Who to talk to, what to ask, when.

She did not ask how her diagnosis affects me.

She did not ask anything at all.

 

My mother told me what I was feeling and why,

Never missing a beat, or stopping to ask me.

She was certain her deductions were correct,

After all, she's known me all her life.

 

My mother commanded me to stay silent as she spoke,

Interrupting her was rude, she insisted.

She was only trying to help.

She couldn't help if I didn't tell her what was going on.

 

My mother reprimanded me for things I have never done,

Cursed my freedom and my privacy.

Insisted that these were privileges I had not earned,

That she had every right to take them away.

 

My mother threatened me with her power,

Claiming I was hers, and I had no right.

That being seventeen didn't really mean a thing,

That I was still her daughter, regardless.

 

Today, my mother brought home a diagnosis.

One, she refused to accept.

So she scolded me for it, cursed my name, and screamed at the winds.

 

Today, I stood silent and witnessed her anger.

 

Today, I witness my mother's desires.

 

Today, I understood my mother's sorrow.

 

Today, I accepted my mother's diagnosis.