Fidget

Yesterday, as my nephew played with a fidget toy, my mother suggested, "Perhaps we should get one of those for you." I responded, "No need, I'm fine. I don't require a fidget toy. Rocking and humming bring me the inner peace I seek."

During our drive back home, my mother asked about my therapy session. I explained that Leah and I had discussed my confusion regarding no longer being diagnosed as bipolar. My mother then said, "Kelley and I discussed it, and we might consider getting you tested." I can't help but wonder why she consistently believes something is wrong with me. It could simply be a result of the depression I've been experiencing due to the many life events I've gone through.

I sometimes feel as though she comments on everything I do. I'm certain she's holding back many thoughts at this point, making me hesitant to share most of what's on my mind. And when I do open up, she tells me I'm speaking too loudly. Can I do anything, right?

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