Page 96 of The Golden Boy's Guide to Bipolar
“But I’m not a baby bird!” I didn’t realize how touchy this subject was going to be when it came up, but I’m already heated, and I can’t stop myself from saying what I’ve been holding back since getting sent to Abuela’s. “You’re only involved in my life when I’m your perfect golden child, but when I’m here? WhenI’m doing bad, you’re always walking on eggshells! You look like just the sight of me makes you want to cry, like I’m that much of a disappointment. You act like I’m just a bomb you don’t want to set off....” My voice cracks when I realize that’s kind of what I was.
Her lip quivers, but instead of arguing, she just sits there waiting for me to get it all out. But I don’t know if I can. Being the grenade I was, I always thought my mom would be the type of parent who’d hold me to her chest and die with me as I exploded. Instead, she threw me across enemy lines and let me go off somewhere she didn’t have to watch.
“You know what, Mami, I do need something from you.”
“Anything, mijo.” She reaches across the table with her palm up like an invitation for me to hold on. I don’t take it yet. I need to hear her answer first.
“I can’t be a gifted prodigy kid my whole life. When everyone acts like I’m perfect, like I have so much limitless potential, all it does is make it that much worse when I can’t pretend anymore. I need to feel like you’re my mom,allthe time. If you’re only happy around me when I’m pretending to be perfect, how am I supposed to feel? It’s like you’re scared of me being anything real! Just because I can’t be your golden child doesn’t mean I’m not still your son.”
She wipes her eyes, but then puts her hands back on the table, palms up so I can still reach for them if I want to. “I’m so sorry, mijo. I love you no matter what. You’re my son, you’re always my son, okay?”
And I know it feels counterintuitive, but I grab her hand for comfort, even though I’m still so angry. “Then why did you leave me? Why couldn’tyoube the one to take care of me when I startedspiraling?” Despite how frustrated I am, it feels good to get the words out, and when she squeezes my hand, it does calm the shaking.
“I... I really tried to be the one to take care of you, but it was like I could feel my influence on you fading. I wanted to help, but I thought you couldn’t hear me. Like whatever I said just kept making things worse.”
“Because you don’t understand me!” I blurt out, trying not to yell and lose my visiting privileges before getting to see Yami.
“I know I don’t understand you, that’s why I sent you to your abuela’s! Even if I have a hard time with her, she at least knows what you’re going through. I thought maybe her experience could help you more than I could.”
“If you need help, Mami, then ask for help! You could have had Abuela come and help without completely abandoning me without any warning. It’s no wonder you didn’t even know she needed her hair braided to fall asleep. You don’t pay attention or listen to her either! You said it yourself, she’s like me. If you hate her so much, how do you think that makes me feel?”
She’s quiet for a while, still holding tight to my hand. “My relationship with my mother is... complicated. And I’ll admit I may have let some of my grievances against her affect how much pressure I put on you. But I do love both of you. I can see how my problems with my mother have affected you, and I’m so sorry for that. I’ll...” She lets out a breath like she needs to hype herself up. “I’ll talk to her. But on one condition, okay?”
I squint at her, but answer. “What?”
“You ask for help when you need it, too. We can both work on that, together.”
I take a deep breath of my own. Asking for help has never been my strong suit. Luckily, before I have a chance to answer her, the alarm on her phone goes off.
“Yami’s turn,” she tells me, then gives my hand another squeeze since we’re not allowed to hug. I don’t let go of her hand, though.
“Yami needs you too, you know,” I say before she can leave. I expect her to ask for clarification so I can tell her to stop being so hard on Yami and pay attention to her too. Instead, she just nods solemnly. She already knows.
“You’re right.” Tears fill her eyes again. “I could spend a lifetime apologizing and it wouldn’t be enough.”
“Yeah, same... ,” I admit. I wish I didn’t relate to that so much. Of course it’s easy to give advice like “Just apologize, what’s the worst that could happen?” But that would make me a hypocrite. Once again, Mami seems to know where I’m coming from without me having to explain.
She’s quiet for a while, biting her cheek in contemplation. Eventually she says, “Maybe I’ve been doing this all wrong. Asking for forgiveness from God instead of talking to the people I’ve hurt. I’ll work on that, too.”
She gives my hand a final squeeze, then rushes out to give Yami some time with me. I was barely able to hold it together for my mom, but for some reason seeing Yami doubles the size of the lump in my throat. She sits down across from me, setting a bag of Takis on the table as a peace offering just like she did when I was in here last year.
The simple gesture makes me choke on an unexpected sob.
I cover my face with my hands and whimper into them. “I don’t deserve this,” I say, the words muffled behind my palms.
“Everyone deserves Takis,” Yami jokes, but when I don’t laugh, she gently coaxes my hands away from my face to hold them on the table and squeezes.
Even after she literally held me while I sobbed in her arms the week before, I just can’t wrap my head around why she’s still here, holding my hands. I don’t even care that the other patients can see me breaking down right now. It doesn’t matter. All that matters is that I say what I need to say to Yami. What I should have said ages ago.
“I’m sorry,” I choke out. The words don’t come easy, but they still don’t feel like they could ever be enough. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry....”
“Hey, it’s okay. It’s okay.”
“It’s not, though,” I say. “I did the worst possible thing I could think to do to you, and you’re still here. You’re still giving me Takis like you’re the one who needs to apologize. Everyone’s still trying to give me whatever I need. I might not always have the best grip on reality, but I did that shit. I know that much was real, and I don’t want to brush it off because you’re worried about me.” I pull my hands away from hers and hug myself.
“It was real,” Yami admits. “I still don’t know why you did all that, but you did. I thought things were getting better after we talked, but now you’re here, and clearly, I missed something, or—”
“Yami, it’s not your fault I’m here,” I interrupt. After everything, she needs to know that much. Maybe she needs to know all of it. I stare at the table while I tell her since I know I can’t handle looking in her eyes right now. “When I was in that space, like, wanting to make it all stop, I thought the only way to end things without ruining everyone’s lives was if I made you all hate me first.When I get like that, I want to push you all away so you’re not sad when I die.”
