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Day 29

About me part 3

Thing gradually got worse. When the diagnosis came for post natal depression the meds just weren't working.

She would walk about talking to herself. She wouldn't take her meds. The hands were going while she mumbled and pointed to whoever she thought she was talking to.

I remember my dad crushing up her tablets and putting them through her food or in her tea. She obviously had an idea as she accused him of trying to poison her.

She was watching TV downstairs late one night and a door must've creaked. She came haring up the stairs screaming about a ghost.

By the time I reached high school we had social workers, I know at some point my brother and I had been at respite. I think my youngest sister may have been at a nursery specifically for special needs.

Things went on. My siblings called her by her first name. They were only young. She wasn't there for them like she was for me when I was young. She was a strange woman getting stranger by the day. My youngest sis struggled with her speech as a toddler.

I was effectively her interpreter when no-one knew what she was saying.

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