According to a study,  although love and hate appear to be polar opposites, the emotions of love and hate use the same regions and circuitry of the brain. Scientists surmise that this is why both emotions provoke extreme behaviours  in individuals.   Results of the study seem to suggest that there is one major difference between love and hate. Large parts of the cerebral cortex – the area of the brain associated with judgement and reasoning – become de-activated during love, whereas only a small area is deactivated in hate.  So love is irrational while hate is logical?

I finally did it.  I told her I hate her. Actually I shouted it.  I HATE YOU, I HATE YOU, I HATE YOU! For the past 20 years I wanted to say this to her. In the beginning when she was first diagnosed, I held her hand like a child even though I was still only a child myself. I love you mom.  I lied then but at the time it was only a little lie.  I was  confused,  hurt and angry that she was falling apart. At the same time the world around me was crumbling.  I needed her. I convinced myself that if I made her better everything would be alright.  As I grew so did the lie. I assured her of my love.   I sucked salt and swallowed my own pain of her deserting me.  I kept the roof over our heads as long as I could.  I grew thin mothering her children. There wasn’t enough money.  The family fragmented.   Last week during one of her periods of mania she asked me how I really felt about her.  I found I could no longer lie.  She was irritable and aggressive. Knowing that the truth would only excite her further.  I confabulated.

“Mom I am sorry that you have to suffer through such a terrible illness.” I avoided a lie.

“You all don’t know how I suffer. You don’t understand what I go through.” she screamed. “When I am depressed. I lie in my room for weeks. Nobody cares about me when I am down. The walls close in. I feel I am in prison. It’s like I am in HELL!“

Oh but we do know how you feel because once you are out of your hell you start building prison walls around us all, recreating that hell for us, don’t you mother?

Today, after 20 years of emotional abuse I finally told the truth. I thought I might be relieved. I even expected to feel guilty. Instead  nothing. I waited too long to say it.  I have no feelings.