My mom has a condition that makes her highly vulnerable to anxiety attacks. It came on in October, but she has been getting better, slowly. It’s been about seven months. She ruined my birthday. She’s ruining my older brother’s birthday. I’ve had to do a lot of growing up this year, and it’s been rough. I thought it was over, but it’s not. Rocky roads lay ahead, apparently.
Sometimes I get angry at her for being sick. She can’t help it, but I just get so upset and secretly put the blame on her for going through these problems and wrecking this year for our family and me. I know it’s horrible. It’s like getting angry at a legless person for not being able to walk. I hate myself for a lot of reasons, and this is one.