I have always felt that I can't talk about my feelings with anyone.

My mom and dad got a divorce when I was pretty young. 2nd grade maybe. My mom suffers from paranoid schizophrenia. Years of living with her, combined with my access to the internet have allowed me to be able to diagnose her. I'm no medical professional, but there is no doubt in my mind. She once took my siblings and I around in the car for an entire stormy night, stopping at every phone booth we came across to make a phone call. To whom, I don't know. She would hear an ad on the radio for a business that we had just passed and believe that someone was monitoring us and posting our whereabouts through the ads. She believed that a woman that is now married to an ex-boyfriend of her's was monitoring us and mocking her through radio commercials. This eventually evolved into a brain implant and her thoughts being broadcast on the internet. She believed that she was going to receive a Nobel Peace Prize for everything she had endured. She thought the movie "The Truman Show" was about her. She would scream in the night at the voices in her head. My sister would cry and my brother would become catatonic. I would console them and tell them it would pass. She would frequently tell me that if she didn't make it through the night that it wasn't our fault. I solely held the knowledge as a young boy that my mom might not make it through the night.

I once consoled with my grandma (her mom) about everything. We had a laugh over the goofy things my mom thought. It finally felt good to talk about it with someone. Someone that knew her as personally as I did. I told her how scared I was of contacting someone to commit her. Grandma seemed to pass this idea off. I don't know if she could have pulled that trigger either. She attributed it all to my mom being struck by a truck when she was very little. I never told her the suicidal thoughts my mom was expressing to me. Not long after I finally found an outlet, my grandma passed away.

After a while, I started to become the target of my mother's psychological attacks. I didn't want to be at home around my mom, so I spent most of my time at the skatepark. She thought that I was spending so much time away from home because I was spending time with the lady that put her in this "predicament". At a point in my life when I should have been focusing on academic studies and social relationships, I spent my time concerned with how my mom might try to kill me. As you can probably assume, my grades suffered. I would like to blame my mom, but I know that I had the capacity to have achieved better grades despite my home life. My mom would scream and cry at me, and ask my why I would fuck someone as despicable as her. I once got so upset at these allegations that eyes full of tears and voice trembling, trying to defend myself with her an inch from my face, I pushed my mom. She fell back into a pile of laundry. I've never forgiven myself.

More time passed and the thought of having my mom committed lingered in the back of my mind. I had this constant lingering fear that if I did, she would hate me forever.

"Where was dad?" you might be asking. Well dad wanted custody of us. He knew the mental anguish my mom was going through. As a matter of fact, it turns out that my mom's condition is the entire reason the divorce even happened. He didn't want the split. He wanted help for her. He eventually agreed to a divorce out of fear of lies she may tell a court of law. It turns out my mom is very good at hiding her demons in front of a professional. He was awarded custody of us every other weekend.

My mom would constantly be running into financial hardships. Despite paying child support every month, my dad would give my mom extra cash so we wouldn't suffer. He would come over and mow her lawn, he tended to her garden, and he brought fish and morel mushrooms for us to eat. He would buy her new tires or a car battery if need be. He painted the house, fixed the gutter, and constantly re-lit the pilot light in the furnace. Talking to my dad, you would think he's one of the hardest men to walk the earth. He doesn't express emotion. I've never seen him cry.

I know my dad still loves my mom because despite all three kids being out on their own, he still goes to her house and watches movies with her. He took her to her chemo appointments when she was diagnosed with brain cancer and my brother and sister were busy working and I was away in the military. He takes her out to eat when she's low on cash or trapped in her own mind at home alone. It may not be on paper, but she will be his wife forever.

My dad is the only reason I never took my own life.