I spent $150 to get confirmation that my mental health isn’t in the best shape. To be honest, I had my suspicions—hitting 30 felt like hitting a mental health milestone, and it was more likely I’d be told I was “crazy” than “normal.” I took the Minnesota Multiphasic Personality Inventory-2 (MMPI-2), a diagnostic test consisting of 567 true-or-false statements, to update my mental health diagnosis. I had been diagnosed with general anxiety disorder and depression at fifteen, but after having my son at 27, my mental health took a nosedive.
The three years following his birth marked an intense struggle with postpartum depression. My psychiatrist eventually classified my condition as treatment-resistant depression after various medications failed to bring relief. To say that motherhood has been a challenge would be an understatement. I often feel like I’m missing the natural maternal instinct that seems to come easily to others. Every single day has been an uphill battle, even the ones where everything seems to go smoothly.
I decided to take the MMPI-2 to better understand my feelings of inadequacy. I wanted to accurately label my mental illness so I could receive the appropriate treatment. I approached the test as if it were a more depressing version of the SAT, reminding myself that the outcome could lead to answers. The hand cramps I endured were worth it.
My therapist didn’t label me as “crazy”—that term is frowned upon in his field—but rather used clinical terms to describe my struggles: general anxiety disorder, dysthymic disorder (chronic depression), and traits aligning with compulsive and dependent personality disorders. He even suggested I might have borderline personality disorder (BPD), based on our discussions.
The four-page report accompanying my results laid my issues bare, depicting a woman who “reflects much psychological distress at this time.” I could have told you that without the report. While it was alarming to read such a stark portrayal of myself, it also offered a strange comfort—I wasn’t imagining my struggles; my mind was genuinely working against me.
Initially, I felt pity for myself, but upon reflection, my heart ached for my son. As a parent, you want the best for your child, but what happens when you feel like you’re barely making it? What did he do to deserve a mom like me?
Motherhood shifts your perspective; you’re no longer just you. The last time I took a diagnostic test, I was a self-centered teenager. Now, I am the center of my little boy’s universe. I may feel like a black hole, but to him, I am the sun. And he deserves a mom who shines brightly.
My mental illness has cast a shadow over every aspect of my parenting. The report illustrated how I oscillate between being high-strung and utterly drained, plagued by hopelessness, and overly dependent on my partner for validation. I hold myself to high standards as a mother, yet I constantly feel like I’m falling short, weighed down by guilt and shame.
Despite these challenges, I owe it to both my son and myself to pursue better mental health. In December, I made the courageous decision to voluntarily admit myself to an inpatient mental health treatment center. Leaving my family felt selfish, but I knew I needed help. Fortunately, I have a wonderfully supportive partner who reassured me that prioritizing my health was an act of love for our family.
During my four-day stay in the hospital, my son gave me his favorite stuffed bear before they left me in the emergency room. I kept it close throughout my treatment. It served as a grounding tool, reminding me that I had someone who needed me to be well.
When I returned home, I was greeted by a house decorated for the holidays, and my son proudly announced, “I put Mommy on top of the tree!” His innocent words melted my heart. He sees the mom I aspire to be—the mom who tries her best, even when she falls short.
Getting well is a long journey. The hospital stay and the MMPI-2 were just the beginning. Now that I have a diagnosis, I can embark on appropriate treatment. My therapist focuses on solutions, and we are delving into Dialectical Behavior Therapy (DBT) and Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing (EMDR) during our weekly sessions, while my psychiatrist adjusts my medications.
I’m learning that even if I’m labeled “bonkers,” I’m not broken. My son sees me as whole, and that’s what matters. Each day remains a challenge, but with treatment, there’s hope. I want to be the mom my son sees and deserves. I put myself first when needed and strive for healing daily. The road ahead may be long, but with his tiny hand in mine, I feel less alone.
Still, I plan to set aside the next $150 we save for him—having a mom like me might mean he’ll need therapy someday too. If you’re navigating similar waters, check out this excellent resource for pregnancy and home insemination.
Summary
Navigating mental illness while being a parent is an immense challenge, as Jamie Carter shares in her journey. After years of struggling with anxiety and depression, she sought a definitive diagnosis through the MMPI-2, which led to a deeper understanding of her mental health. The challenges of motherhood often compounded her feelings of inadequacy, but with the support of her partner and a commitment to her own healing, she took significant steps toward recovery. By prioritizing her mental well-being, she hopes to be the mother her son deserves, demonstrating that seeking help is a vital part of being a loving parent.
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