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In 2014, a snapshot of my son and me appeared in his elementary school yearbook. We were at a book fair, and he was beaming in a striped t-shirt, his toothy grin radiating joy. His eyes sparkled with mischief, hinting at the cat poster I had unknowingly indulged him in. He looked adorable.
However, I didn’t share that same charm. My smile seemed forced, stretched unnaturally across my face as I hunched behind him, almost as if I were trying to disappear. What stood out most were my eyes—they lacked any glimmer of life, resembling lifeless black marbles instead of human eyes.
Whenever I recall that photograph, I feel a wave of sickness and profound sadness. It transports me back to a time shrouded in darkness, a period I struggle to endure even in memory. I remind myself that those days are behind me; I know the steps I need to take to maintain my well-being now, unlike then. Back then, a friend persuaded me to stop taking my antidepressants—a decision I deeply regret and will never forget.
My descent into clinical depression began in January, as my boys entered the second half of their school year. With my oldest firmly settled in 5th grade and my youngest in 2nd, I found myself barely hanging on as a mother.
Symptoms of Depression
One of the most debilitating symptoms I experienced was psychomotor retardation, which, as defined by the NCBI (National Center for Biotechnology Information), includes “slowed speech, decreased movement, and impaired cognitive function.” But that brief definition hardly captures the reality of my experience.
When people think of “decreased movement” in relation to major depression, they often conjure up the image of someone who can’t get out of bed. While that’s true, my struggle went far beyond that. My movements became stiff and robotic, as if I were assembled from iron and bolts. The worst moments were when I felt “stuck.” I could take a few steps, but then it felt like my feet were anchored to the ground. This freeze could last mere seconds, or what felt like an eternity. When the attendance bell rang and we were still far away, I had no choice but to send my boys ahead and trudge home, feeling a mix of exhaustion and relief.
Cognitive impairment, another symptom, is a term that may not resonate with everyone. For me, it meant significant challenges with memory and focus. Helping my oldest with his studies wasn’t a concern (he’s always been a go-getter), but with my youngest, it was an entirely different story. I found myself unable to assist him with simple homework tasks, like writing a paragraph about puffins. Words eluded me, leaving me frustrated as I struggled with even basic math.
“Slowed speech” may seem straightforward, but my speech issues encompassed more than just speed. My boys became accustomed to my stumbles and awkward phrasing, but parent-teacher conferences were agonizing. I would hesitate, fumble, and sometimes spew out a jumble of words, all while trying to maintain a semblance of participation without overstaying my welcome.
I recall a conversation from years ago among teachers discussing a student who was homeschooled due to depression. They couldn’t understand how the school could allow a child to stay home because she was “sad.” The misunderstanding lies not in the lack of awareness about clinical depression but in the conviction that they truly understand it.
If I had merely been “sad” during those years, it would have felt like a relief. The reality of my illness was a complex mix of sorrow, desperation, guilt, physical discomfort, sleep disturbances, and a profound sense of hopelessness. Not exactly the ideal state for a mother.
When I ask my sons about those years, they recall seeing me “on the couch a lot,” but then their memories shift to stories about school: how Mia once tried to kiss every boy in gym class, how Mrs. Johnson rewarded students with Jolly Ranchers for learning the states, or how Ben fell off the swings and scraped his forehead.
I feel fortunate that, as a high school sophomore and a college freshman, both boys have grown and thrived, enjoying all the wonderful aspects of school life. Their memories of elementary school are far more cherished than my own.
Further Reading
If you’re interested in exploring more about pregnancy and home insemination, check out this excellent resource on artificial insemination or consider looking into Cryobaby’s home intracervical insemination kit for more insight on the subject. For further reading, you might enjoy this post about the challenges of parenting while managing mental health.
Summary
This article reflects on the profound challenges faced by a mother navigating clinical depression while raising young children. It captures the internal struggles of mental health, the impact on daily life, and the contrasting memories held by her children. It serves as a reminder of the complexities of mental illness and the importance of understanding its deeper implications.
Keyphrase: Clinical Depression in Mothers
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