As I have told you, due to my mental illness, I raised my children from my bed for years, until in 1992, that was no longer possibe. My Daughter and I moved house - her father, who had never lived with us, was in gaol for crimes he committed against

my Daughter, and she needed me to be strong for her. And I was.

It amazes me that all the years I had lived in bed, and suddenly, I had to get on top of my ilnesses and parent my child so intensely. By this time, she was developing mental illnesses of her own. I took her to every counsellor I could find, but she would not talk about her father to anyone, only to me. That was a huge responsibility for me, but I was determined to help her, and if talking to me helped, then I was there for her.

She had a child herself in 1996, but he was taken away before his second birthday. My Daughter was stuck in an emotional age of ten, and didnt have a clue on parenting. As for me, I was very little help to her. I was trying to both help her heal from her abuse and forced pregnancy, and at the same time, take care of a little, helpless human being. I just could not do it.

In 2000, I discovered a rehabilitation program for people with mental illness, and both my Daughter and I joined that. It was the first step on my recovery journey. I became very active in this organisation, attending conferences and delivering speeches about my life - I was even on the Management Committee. My Daughter and I attended this Centre most days. It was almost like having a job to go to. Then in 2001 the organisation lost it's funding and was forced to close. I was shattered. My Daughter, by this time, was quite happy to sit at home every day and watch videos. But not me! I was learning so much from this organisation about myself, my relationships and how to parent well that I made up any excuse just to go to the venue, even though the program wasn't running. I made 'phone calls to other members; I put together the organisations monthly Newsletter, I just couldn't stay away, untill one day the Co-ordinator said to me "For Heavens sake - go to TAFE and study something!!" So I did.

A huge change came over our house - my Daughter took charge of the housekeeping again, because she wanted to support me, she was so proud of me. She would bring me hot drinks at night while I was studying; The house was always spotless; the laundry was done;  as long as she didn't have to leave the house (her agoraphobia was as bad as mine) she did everything. When I came home from TAFE, she was always there smiling, with a cup of coffee for me in her hand.

The tables had turned again - she was looking after my every need, but she was not LOOKING AFTER me as she had done as a child. I was still her supporter, still trying to help her with her mental illnesses. I deliberately chose the Welfare Worker road at TAFE, and I learned so much about how to help my Daughter. Then, out of the blue in 2004, I got a job as a Welfare Worker at another Rehablitation Centre.

Now, nearly five years on, I work part-time at the Rehab. Centre; my Daughter attends the Centre regularly, and when I am not working there, I attend the Centre for rehabilitation too. My Daughter has finally found a psychologist she gets on with, and we are both happier and healthier mentally than we have ever been.

We have regular visits with my Daughter's Son now. He has been fortunate enough to have stayed with the same foster family since  the day he was take out of my Daughter's care, and is a wonderful boy (soon to be a teen).  Yes, I have a wonderful, happy and busy life, and I enjoy every minute of it.

If you are a paret experiencing mental illness, get some help from your doctor. They know about Rehabilitation Centres, plus, with medication, you cold also live a wonderful life and be a good parent.                                    grannyjack.