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Today, I’m feeling down. I can’t quite pinpoint the reason. The sun is shining bright, it’s a lovely summer day. My youngest is at daycare while my eight-year-old is happily playing with her dolls, laughing and enjoying life. Everything seems to be going well—work is steady, life feels “good.” Yet, here I am, battling an internal storm.
Why is that? Because I deal with mental health challenges. I live with bipolar disorder, anxiety, and PTSD, which often lead to bouts of depression. I cycle through feelings of despair, hopelessness, and apathy, and today is one of those tough days.
Admitting this isn’t easy; it often leaves me with guilt and shame. I’ve been managing my mental health for over 20 years, and I sometimes think I should have it all figured out by now, especially as a parent. My kids rely on me, and seeing me sad or curled up on the couch feels like a failure. It robs us of joyful moments and precious memories.
However, a wise friend once reminded me that having depression doesn’t make me a bad mom. It simply means I’m a wonderful mom who happens to face challenges with mental health—and that distinction is important.
Depression is a part of me, but it does not define me. I actively treat my condition with medication, therapy, a healthy lifestyle, and routine. While it’s a mental illness, it’s just as real and valid as any physical ailment. Accepting this truth helps me recognize that I’m doing the best I can as a parent.
Does this realization bring me comfort? Sometimes. It’s reassuring to know I’m not alone, but days like today still feel heavy. I grapple with guilt over missed activities and moments not shared. I feel shame when depression weighs me down and keeps me in bed. It’s heartbreaking when my kids express love, and I feel so numb that I can’t reciprocate. I often find myself snapping at them for no reason, overwhelmed by stress and unable to cope.
Yet, my struggles bring certain benefits. When I’m not battling depression, I cherish every moment with my kids and engage with them fully. I talk openly about emotions, explaining that sometimes I feel sad. When I’m well, I’m active and involved in their lives, creating memories together.
I show up as best as I can, and that matters. My experiences teach my children empathy and the importance of apologizing—lessons they will carry with them as they grow.
I wish I didn’t have to contend with depression. I wish I could fully enjoy moments like when my son sleeps on me or gives me a sweet kiss. I wish I didn’t need rest just to be semi-conscious and present. I wish I weren’t parenting from my bedroom, glued to the TV. I wish for many things.
But I persist because I must. My children deserve a parent who is present, who doesn’t give up. They deserve a mom who, despite her struggles, is a truly great mom.
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Summary:
This piece reflects on the challenges of parenting while managing depression, acknowledging that while mental health struggles can feel isolating, they do not define one’s worth as a parent. The author emphasizes the importance of self-acceptance and the lessons their experiences impart to their children.
Keyphrase: My Depression Doesn’t Define My Ability to Be a Great Mom
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