Yvette Murray

Transcript

I'm 8 years old hiding in my closet. And I hear my dad rushing down the stairs and the closing of the side door. Phew. He's gone to work. I can come out now. And I hurry to my mom's room and I announced, "I'm here." I gave my very British mother quite the shock. "Bloody hell. Why aren't you at school?" "I don't feel well. Can I just hang with you for today?" You see, this became a pattern that was unhealthy for the both of us.

As a symptom of my mom living with bipolar disorder, she attempted suicide more than once. And I believed if I stayed home from school, I could save her. For years, I walked on eggshells. Did my best to keep the peace and avoid being on the receiving end of the anger, the crying, the aggression, the mood swings, the silent treatment, the disowning. All symptoms of my mom's mental illness. I'd often hear my mom say, "I don't want to do the things I do.

I can't control it." I became all too consumed with fixing and saving her. What if I say the wrong thing? What if I upset her? Will she die? I did develop some pretty impressive skills though. I was the ray of sunshine. I lit every room with my sunshine fix-it ways. "You don't feel good? I have just the cure for you." Meanwhile, my own mental health was declining. I completely lost myself in the picture. I needed to stop gaslighting myself and recognize that I mattered, too.

I got in touch with the emotions. The real ones. I gave myself permission to feel the fear, the anger, the apathy, the burden, the rage. Oh, and the guilt. Especially when I was doing well and my loved one wasn't. At points in my life I thought, "Am I becoming manic depressive, too? Is my mom to blame?" It brought me comfort to know that living with a mental health conditions, they affect us, but they don't define us. My desire to help and fix came my my belief that my mom needed fixing.

My mom didn't need fixing. She wasn't broken. She was human. I discovered that support doesn't mean fixing. I even wrote a book about it. I travel around the world speaking all about mental health and the caregiver. Support could literally mean sitting next to someone emoting, not trying to fix them, not trying to change them, accepting them as they are. What I know to be true is that when I made self-care a priority, I was able to show up more powerfully for my mom.

As I stood by my mom's deathbed, she woke up, said, "Am I dying?" [snorts] No one knew what to say. She asked again, "Am I dying?" And I mustered up as much courage as I could and I said, "Yes, Mom. You are." "I don't want to die. I don't want to die. That moment that little girl inside of me still wanted to save my mom. The adult in me recognized I couldn't. My mom's in the end didn't want to die. She lived a full life even with a mental illness.

One of my mom's last wishes was to have a party. And uh she wanted to celebrate my twin brother and my twin brother and my 50th birthday. So in true mom fashion, we gathered in her hospital room with my dad by my side, cracked open up a bottle of champagne, ate some cake, giggled, and celebrated our milestones birthdays. We also celebrated 81 incredible years of my mom's life. if you're listening to me now, I am so honored to have traveled this road with you.

And know you continue to live on through me in the support of others on a similar journey. Thank you. Thank you.

Transcript generated from the recording and lightly cleaned. Some names and wording may differ from the spoken speech.