Updated: April 7, 2021
Originally Published: Jan. 23, 2018
As the first rays of sunlight peek through my curtains just after 6 a.m., I find myself stirred from slumber. The warmth seeps in, filling my lungs as I take a deep breath. And then it hits me: I am still here.
Make no mistake; I want to be here. Deep down, I truly do. I am a wife and a mother to a spirited and intelligent little girl. Yet, my mental illness casts a heavy shadow over my existence. Simply put, living can feel like a struggle, and on some days, the thought of suicide lingers like a dark cloud—an option that appears to be my only escape.
Living with a mental illness means wrestling with thoughts of self-harm, and while parenting is inherently challenging, doing so while grappling with these thoughts can feel nearly impossible. The weight of despair is overwhelming.
When you’re in this mental state, you don’t recognize yourself. Desperation and isolation become your companions. Even with loved ones surrounding you, you can feel as though you’re trapped in a solitary confinement of despair. The inner dialogue convinces you that your existence means nothing, that your loved ones would be better off without you. That relentless voice is deafening, refusing to let go.
The things that once brought joy now seem painful. Simple acts like laughing, loving, and even breathing can feel like a burden. Time feels suspended as your thoughts spiral deeper into the abyss of suicidal ideation. As a parent, you don’t have the luxury of retreating; you must maintain a facade of functionality. I must be present for my little girl.
But am I always successful? No. Some days, my illness overtakes me. I find myself unable to think clearly, let alone engage in parenting. On those days, I resort to Pop-Tarts for dinner and let her color on the walls while I lay crumpled on the kitchen floor. We skip bathtime; bedtime becomes a far-off notion as I parent “from the couch,” my eyes shut while she occupies herself with shows like Sesame Street.
I do this because I care. I push through for her because I love her deeply. It may sound irrational—the idea that a distant parent can somehow be a better parent—but in my heart, I know my daughter deserves a mother who is alive, even if it means I have to disconnect for a moment to survive.
However, I’d be dishonest if I claimed that these coping mechanisms make everything okay. Love alone does not cure mental illness. Just weeks ago, I faced a near-fatal episode. I had purchased pills, composed a farewell note, and formulated a plan, convinced that ending my life was the only solution. But in a fleeting moment of clarity, I reached out for help. I called a close friend. Was it easy? No, I was terrified—not of judgment, but of intervention. Yet, I chose to make that call because my daughter and I both deserved better.
If you’re reading this from that dark place, know that there is hope. The voice that tells you you’re a terrible parent is lying. You showed up today. You chose to keep going, and even if today feels difficult, you are resilient. Each day, every breath, is an achievement. You are valued and loved. Keep moving forward.
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In summary, parenting while battling suicidal thoughts is an arduous journey marked by moments of darkness, yet it is also filled with the potential for hope and connection. By reaching out and seeking help, you can find a path forward, not only for yourself but for your loved ones too.
Keyphrase: Parenting through mental illness
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