The Struggles of My Depression Bring On Intense Mom Guilt

Sometimes, I can’t help but feel sorry for my kids, even though they have a life filled with comforts. We recently moved into a lovely new home that boasts a swimming pool and a playground, and the playroom is overflowing with toys—so much so that the furniture is nearly hidden. I’m not particularly proud of this; I realize my kids might be a bit spoiled, and that’s on me.

I tend to indulge their every request, attempting to make up for the mother I believe I should be. While my children don’t actually need material possessions to find happiness, I can’t shake the feeling that they’ve drawn the short straw when it comes to having me as their mom.

I struggle with severe depression and anxiety, compounded by an eating disorder. A couple of years back, I spent six weeks in the hospital, but thankfully, my kids were too young (just four and two) to have any recollection of that time. I wish they didn’t remember, as I don’t want them to think I abandoned them or that it was easy for me to leave. Is it possible for mothers to be guilt-free? I understand that what I went through was ultimately for their benefit, so they could have a healthy and functional mom.

What lingers in my mind are my limitations. I know I’ll never fully overcome major depressive disorder or anxiety, but I put in a lot of effort to cope. However, it feels like I require more breaks than other moms, that I lose my temper more often, and that I spend too much time resting. I’m cautious about pushing my boundaries. I dedicate hours each day to managing my mental health, yet a depressive episode can strike without warning and linger for months or even years. This reality forces me to lean on my partner (more guilt) to help manage our household. If I didn’t, I might revert to unhealthy coping mechanisms like overeating or impulsive shopping. Or even worse.

I have come a long way since those days—when I was misusing my anxiety medication, crying constantly, and feeling suicidal. That’s a crucial point to remember: the significant progress I’ve made in my life, which has positively affected my children’s lives as well.

I still have a short fuse, require plenty of rest, and can’t always engage socially, but we still enjoy ourselves. We have family movie nights, take road trips to visit my parents, spend lazy days in our pajamas, host dance parties, and swim in the backyard until our fingers and toes wrinkle. Despite the guilt that sometimes clouds my ability to enjoy these moments, I hope my kids will cherish those memories rather than focus on my occasional outbursts related to my illness.

My partner often reminds me that we aren’t just raising children; we’re nurturing healthy adults. He’s right. Ultimately, my kids will learn empathy, compassion, and the importance of self-care from my experiences. I hope they’ll feel comfortable discussing mental health and reaching out for help if they ever notice signs in themselves. In my view, it’s never too early to talk about mental illness.

We need to foster open conversations about mental disorders, as they impact millions of adults across the U.S. In fact, anxiety disorders are the most prevalent mental illness, affecting around 40 million adults. These statistics don’t even account for the mental health challenges that have emerged during the pandemic.

I hope my children and their peers will challenge the stigma surrounding mental illness and feel no shame about their struggles. However, we, as a generation, must lead by example. I refuse to apologize for a condition I have little control over. You shouldn’t either. Depression is a relentless thief, robbing you of motivation, joy, and the ability to function. It can be suffocating, enveloping you in darkness and fatigue. It’s important to recognize that seeking help in a psychiatric facility is a valid option.

Putting mom guilt aside, I genuinely believe I’m doing a decent job. Worst-case scenario, my kids might end up in therapy, blaming me for their challenges, but they’ll only understand once they become parents themselves.

I recognize that I don’t need to shower them with toys or material gifts to earn their love. What they truly need is to feel safe, nurtured, and loved—and I can provide that, whether from my sickbed or otherwise.

My love transcends the limitations of depression.

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Summary:

The author shares her experience of grappling with depression and anxiety while raising her children, expressing feelings of guilt for not being the ideal mother. Despite living in a comfortable home and providing material possessions, she struggles with limitations imposed by her mental health. She emphasizes the importance of nurturing her kids’ emotional health and hopes to instill values of empathy and self-care in them. The narrative highlights the need for open discussions about mental health and encourages mothers to recognize the progress they make, regardless of their struggles.

Keyphrase: The struggles of depression and mom guilt

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