On days like today, I find myself feeling a sense of sadness that I can’t quite explain. The sun is shining, the weather is warm, and my children are happily engaged in their activities. My youngest is at daycare, while my eight-year-old immerses herself in play with her dolls, laughing and enjoying her day. Life seems to be on track; work is steady, and yet, I feel a lingering heaviness.
The truth is, I struggle with mental illness. I live with bipolar disorder, anxiety, and PTSD, and one of the symptoms of bipolar disorder is depression. I often go through cycles of feeling helpless, hopeless, and apathetic, and today is one of those tough days.
Admitting this isn’t easy. Sharing my feelings fills me with shame and guilt. After living with these challenges for two decades, I feel like I should have better control over my emotions, especially as a parent. My children rely on me, and seeing me in a state of distress makes me feel like I’m failing them. It robs all of us of joyful moments and cherished memories.
However, a close friend recently reminded me that having depression doesn’t make me a bad mom; it simply means I’m a good mom navigating life with a mental illness. There’s a distinction there. Depression is part of my life, but it doesn’t define me. It’s a condition I manage daily through medication, therapy, exercise, and healthy habits. It’s valid, just like any physical illness, and accepting this is a step toward self-compassion.
Does this understanding alleviate my feelings? Sometimes. Knowing I’m not alone helps, but on days like today, the guilt over missed moments—like the drawings we didn’t make or the games we didn’t play—remains heavy. I feel ashamed when depression keeps me in bed and numb to the love my children express. I want to be the mom they deserve, not someone who snaps at them for no reason.
Yet, there are silver linings. My experiences with depression have made me a more attentive mom during the good days. When I’m feeling well, I cherish every moment with my kids, engage in meaningful conversations about emotions, and create lasting memories through activities like biking and hiking.
I also believe my struggles have taught my children empathy and the importance of apologizing—lessons that they will carry with them. They’ve learned to navigate the ups and downs of my mental health, which is invaluable.
I wish I didn’t battle depression. I wish I could enjoy every moment with my children without the cloud of sadness. I wish I didn’t have to rely on naps just to be present. I wish I could parent without the distractions of the television. But despite these challenges, I persevere because my children deserve a mother who remains engaged and determined. They deserve a mom who continues to show up, even when times are tough.
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