It was the spring of 1989. I was sixteen years old, a junior in high school and an honors student. I had what every teenager wants: a stable family, a nice home in the suburbs, a great group of friends, big plans for my future, and no reason to believe that any of that would ever change.
Then came my mother's psychosis.
I experienced first-hand the terror of watching someone I loved transform into a monster, the terror of discovering that I was to be her primary victim. For years I've lived with the sadness of knowing that she, too, was a helpless victim - a victim of a terrible disease that consumed and destroyed the strong and caring woman I had once called Mom.
My mother's illness took everything. My family, my home, my friends, my future. A year and a half later I would be living alone on the street on the other side of the country, wondering whether I could even survive on my own.
But I did. That was how my mother - my real mother - raised me. To survive.
She, too, was a survivor. It wasn't until last year that I learned that she had died - in 2007. No one will ever know her side of the story now. But perhaps, at last, it's time for me to tell mine.
About the Author: Lori Schafer is a writer of serious prose, humorous erotica and romance, and everything in between. Her flash fiction, short stories, and essays have appeared in numerous print and online publications, and her memoir On Hearing of My Mother's Death Six Years After It Happened: A Daughter's Memoir of Mental Illness won a Gold Medal in the 2015 eLit BookAwards.
When she isn't writing (which isn't often), Lori enjoys playing ice hockey, attending beer festivals, and spending long afternoons reading at the beach in the sunshine.
To receive special offers from Lori, please visit her website at lorilschafer.com, where you may subscribe to her newsletter or follow her blog. You are also welcome to email her directly at lorilschafer(at)outlook(dot)com with any comments, questions, or suggestions you may have. No requests for advice on your love life, though. She'll give it to you, but you probably won't be thrilled with the results.
