With college tuition, many students are given the benefit of an on-campus therapist. Ever since one of my dear friends started going, I realized I too may benefit from going due to my unusual childhood.

I was born into a loving home with two wonderful parents who have a happy marriage and do their best to raise me and my eight siblings. Yes, you read correctly. EIGHT. With that many kids, we're sure to have some crazy stories, some good laughs, and a lot of memories. However, not every home can live behind rose-colored lenses.

My mother has experienced severe bipolar disorder most of her life and as her oldest daughter, I not only have become one of the few people she confides in but also take her place whenever she has manic episodes or has to leave to spend time in mental facilities.

When I was just a couple months old, I went from nursing almost all day to my mom having to be taken to a hospital for about a week. I was left in the care of other relatives. My mom tells me that when she came back, I wasn't the same. She sensed that I was more independent, more self-reliant, and didn't seem like I needed her. By the time I was just 8 years old, I was cooking full meals for my entire family. I've done nearly anything a normal parent would (including giving my younger brother "the talk") and the older I became, the more I realized I was substantially different from my peers.

I felt a great divide and that I wasn't able to let loose very often.

As a result, I've become the "mom" friend and though I wouldn't trade that for the world, I can't help but feel like I grew up too fast and missed out on something.

As I watch my peers, friends, and roommates enjoy life, travel, go on dates, and learn about themselves, I can't help but hold back due to the voice of my mom in the back of my head saying, "What if something goes wrong? Did you lock the door before going to bed? Don't talk to that boy, he probably wants to kill you. Did you hear that?" and on, and on, and on.

It gets to the point where if I voice the concerns out loud, I resent myself because I wonder if other people are upset by my inability to let go of things, the same way she is.

My mother's paranoia has leaked into my own life.

Does it ever end?

At this point in my life, I'm living away from home. I purposefully chose a college that is close enough so I can get home in an emergency, but far enough that I distanced myself from the toxic environment with my mother. But that doesn't stop the guilt.

Guilt that I'm having fun while my siblings have to help my mom. Guilt that my younger sister is left to be the caretaker now. Guilt that I have to turn my mother's request for me to stay on the phone or come home. And guilt that I don't want to tell anyone at home about my personal life so it doesn't become something my mother will obsess over.

So how do I counteract it?

First and foremost, I thank God every day that I was born into a home filled with brothers and a sister who support me. I'm thankful for the wonderful friends I have who support me and who are the first people I go to when I need to feel young, wild, and free. I'm thankful for the events that have occurred in my life that built my personality. Things like people often coming to me for advice, people calling me when they need help, being an enneagram type 2, being the mom friend, and being trusted with responsibilities and leadership positions.

If anything, these events have given me perspective and I'm slowly learning that it's possible to love your family, your childhood, and your home and still acknowledge that there are toxic aspects about it and that you are allowed to distance yourself.

It's OK to let loose from time to time.

It's OK to talk about it with people and seek out therapy.

With therapy comes clarity, answers, and best of all healing. I look forward to getting to being open with someone about all of this and learning more about how to be my best self, to let go of the guilt, and to become the woman I know I can be.