Page 48 of The Golden Boy’s Guide to Bipolar

HORIZON BEHAVIORAL HEALTH

Day One: Visiting Hours

“You look tired, mijo. Did you get any sleep last night?” Mami asks with a pained expression. Even though she and Yami probably

came here together, it’s just my mom sitting across the table from me. I don’t know if it’s because they’re fighting like

the last time I was in here or if both of them just want to have a private conversation, but I don’t ask.

“Not really,” I answer honestly. I know she’s pretending the bruises around my eyes are dark circles to keep from bringing

up the fight, and I’m okay with that. I find myself remembering the stories Abuela told me and Moni about Abuelo’s trick to

solve all her problems and help her sleep. “Maybe I need to grow my hair out so someone can braid it like Abuelo used to do

for Abuela.”

Her brows crease. “What are you talking about?”

“You know how Abuela said she couldn’t sleep unless he braided her hair for her?”

She shakes her head, looking confused. “Your abuelo never did that. He tried to braid my hair once in my life and accidentally gave me a fat bald spot.”

“That’s what Abuela told me,” I say with a shrug. I doubt she would lie about that, but maybe Mami just doesn’t remember.

“Well, maybe we can find something similar for you, to help you sleep.”

“I don’t need you to help me figure out how to sleep.” I sigh. These kinds of conversations never end well. It’s just a bunch

of suggestions that don’t work from someone who’s never had to even try counting sheep. If she did, she’d know that shit is

pointless.

Mami frowns. “Well, what do you need my help with? I want to help, mijo. Just, tell me how, and I’ll try my best.”

“Well...” I hesitate for a second before saying anything, unsure if I should answer honestly or not. While thinking of

things I want her to do for me is kind of impossible right now, there are a whole bunch of things I’d gladly have her stop doing. “I don’t exactly love all the babying,” I finally admit.

“Babying?” she asks, almost sounding offended.

“Yeah, like treating me like a helpless baby who needs constant protection and can do no wrong. I’m basically an adult!”

“Mijo, look where we are!” She gestures around the room wildly. “If I don’t cradle you like a baby bird, you’re going to fall

out of the nest and break your neck!”

“But I’m not a baby bird!” I didn’t realize how touchy this subject was going to be when it came up, but I’m already heated, and I can’t stop myself from saying what I’ve been holding back since getting sent to Abuela’s.

“You’re only involved in my life when I’m your perfect golden child, but when I’m here?

When I’m doing bad, you’re always walking on eggshells!

You look like just the sight of me makes you want to cry, like I’m that much of a disappointment.

You act like I’m just a bomb you don’t want to set off.

...” My voice cracks when I realize that’s kind of what I was.

Her lip quivers, but instead of arguing, she just sits there waiting for me to get it all out. But I don’t know if I can.

Being the grenade I was, I always thought my mom would be the type of parent who’d hold me to her chest and die with me as

I exploded. Instead, she threw me across enemy lines and let me go off somewhere she didn’t have to watch.

“You know what, Mami, I do need something from you.”

“Anything, mijo.” She reaches across the table with her palm up like an invitation for me to hold on. I don’t take it yet.

I need to hear her answer first.

“I can’t be a gifted prodigy kid my whole life. When everyone acts like I’m perfect, like I have so much limitless potential,

all it does is make it that much worse when I can’t pretend anymore. I need to feel like you’re my mom, all the time. If you’re only happy around me when I’m pretending to be perfect, how am I supposed to feel? It’s like you’re scared

of me being anything real! Just because I can’t be your golden child doesn’t mean I’m not still your son.”

She wipes her eyes, but then puts her hands back on the table, palms up so I can still reach for them if I want to. “I’m so

sorry, mijo. I love you no matter what. You’re my son, you’re always my son, okay?”

And I know it feels counterintuitive, but I grab her hand for comfort, even though I’m still so angry. “Then why did you leave

me? Why couldn’t you be the one to take care of me when I started spiraling?” Despite how frustrated I am, it feels good to get the words out, and when she squeezes my hand, it does calm the shaking.

“I... I really tried to be the one to take care of you, but it was like I could feel my influence on you fading. I wanted

to help, but I thought you couldn’t hear me. Like whatever I said just kept making things worse.”

“Because you don’t understand me!” I blurt out, trying not to yell and lose my visiting privileges before getting to see Yami.

“I know I don’t understand you, that’s why I sent you to your abuela’s! Even if I have a hard time with her, she at least

knows what you’re going through. I thought maybe her experience could help you more than I could.”

“If you need help, Mami, then ask for help! You could have had Abuela come and help without completely abandoning me without

any warning. It’s no wonder you didn’t even know she needed her hair braided to fall asleep. You don’t pay attention or listen

to her either! You said it yourself, she’s like me. If you hate her so much, how do you think that makes me feel?”

She’s quiet for a while, still holding tight to my hand. “My relationship with my mother is... complicated. And I’ll admit

I may have let some of my grievances against her affect how much pressure I put on you. But I do love both of you. I can see

how my problems with my mother have affected you, and I’m so sorry for that. I’ll...” She lets out a breath like she needs

to hype herself up. “I’ll talk to her. But on one condition, okay?”

I squint at her, but answer. “What?”

“You ask for help when you need it, too. We can both work on that, together.”

I take a deep breath of my own. Asking for help has never been my strong suit. Luckily, before I have a chance to answer her, the alarm on her phone goes off.

“Yami’s turn,” she tells me, then gives my hand another squeeze since we’re not allowed to hug. I don’t let go of her hand,

though.

“Yami needs you too, you know,” I say before she can leave. I expect her to ask for clarification so I can tell her to stop

being so hard on Yami and pay attention to her too. Instead, she just nods solemnly. She already knows.

“You’re right.” Tears fill her eyes again. “I could spend a lifetime apologizing and it wouldn’t be enough.”

“Yeah, same... ,” I admit. I wish I didn’t relate to that so much. Of course it’s easy to give advice like “Just apologize,

what’s the worst that could happen?” But that would make me a hypocrite. Once again, Mami seems to know where I’m coming from

without me having to explain.

She’s quiet for a while, biting her cheek in contemplation. Eventually she says, “Maybe I’ve been doing this all wrong. Asking

for forgiveness from God instead of talking to the people I’ve hurt. I’ll work on that, too.”

She gives my hand a final squeeze, then rushes out to give Yami some time with me. I was barely able to hold it together for

my mom, but for some reason seeing Yami doubles the size of the lump in my throat. She sits down across from me, setting a

bag of Takis on the table as a peace offering just like she did when I was in here last year.

The simple gesture makes me choke on an unexpected sob.

I cover my face with my hands and whimper into them. “I don’t deserve this,” I say, the words muffled behind my palms.

“Everyone deserves Takis,” Yami jokes, but when I don’t laugh, she gently coaxes my hands away from my face to hold them on the table and squeezes.

Even after she literally held me while I sobbed in her arms the week before, I just can’t wrap my head around why she’s still

here, holding my hands. I don’t even care that the other patients can see me breaking down right now. It doesn’t matter. All

that matters is that I say what I need to say to Yami. What I should have said ages ago.

“I’m sorry,” I choke out. The words don’t come easy, but they still don’t feel like they could ever be enough. “I’m sorry,

I’m sorry....”

“Hey, it’s okay. It’s okay.”

“It’s not, though,” I say. “I did the worst possible thing I could think to do to you, and you’re still here. You’re still

giving me Takis like you’re the one who needs to apologize. Everyone’s still trying to give me whatever I need. I might not

always have the best grip on reality, but I did that shit. I know that much was real, and I don’t want to brush it off because

you’re worried about me.” I pull my hands away from hers and hug myself.

“It was real,” Yami admits. “I still don’t know why you did all that, but you did. I thought things were getting better after

we talked, but now you’re here, and clearly, I missed something, or—”

“Yami, it’s not your fault I’m here,” I interrupt.

After everything, she needs to know that much.

Maybe she needs to know all of it. I stare at the table while I tell her since I know I can’t handle looking in her eyes right now.

“When I was in that space, like, wanting to make it all stop, I thought the only way to end things without ruining everyone’s lives was if I made you all hate me first. When I get like that, I want to push you all away so you’re not sad when I die. ”

From the corner of my eye, I see Yami wiping her tears before I look back up at her. But I’m not done yet. She needs to know

one more thing.

“I need you, Yami. But I don’t want my life to dictate yours. You should get what you want in life, too.” I finally look up at her, so she really gets it. “I know I don’t act like it, but when life is good, you’re

one of the reasons why. I feel like I’m the opposite for you.”