Lifestyle
Updated: April 7, 2021
Originally Published: January 23, 2018
As dawn breaks, the first rays of sunlight seep through the narrow gap in my curtains, stirring me awake. I inhale deeply; the warmth of the day fills my senses. But as I exhale, a stark reality hits me: I’m still here. I’m alive.
And I want to be alive. Beneath the weight of my struggles, I am a devoted wife and a mother to a bright, spirited little girl. Yet, my mental illness often transforms existence into an unbearable burden. Breathing can feel painful, and some days it seems impossible to continue.
Suicidal thoughts lurk in the shadows, presenting themselves as the only escape from my suffering. This is the reality of living with mental illness, where persistent ideations and obsessions can dominate my mind. While parenting is already a monumental challenge, navigating it through the lens of suicidal thoughts feels nearly insurmountable.
It’s all-consuming.
When grappling with suicidal thoughts, I often feel like a stranger to myself. Desperation and despair cloud my mind, leaving me feeling isolated, regardless of how many people surround me. The belief that nothing matters anymore creeps in, whispering that my loved ones would be better off without me. That nagging voice is relentless, drowning out any shred of positivity.
The joy I once found in life feels distant. Laughter, love, and even the act of simply being can feel like an insurmountable task. Time appears to stand still, and my thoughts fixate on finding a way out. However, as a parent, there is no retreat. I cannot afford to disengage; I must be “functional” for my little girl.
But am I really functional? Not always. There are days when my illness prevails, leaving me incapacitated—unable to think, move, or breathe without deliberate effort. On those days, I struggle to fulfill my role as a parent. I resort to giving my daughter sugary snacks for dinner and let her color outside the lines while I collapse on the kitchen floor. We forgo bath time and stretch bedtime well into the night, while I parent “from the couch,” eyes closed, as she watches her favorite shows.
I do this because I love her deeply.
I push through the haze because my love for her is unwavering. Yet, I also recognize the absurdity of believing that being an absent parent somehow makes me a better one. It sounds illogical, but I strive to be a loving and present mother, even when it requires me to take a step back for my own survival.
That said, it would be misleading to claim that I am always okay. Despite my efforts, mental illness doesn’t work that way. Love from those around me cannot single-handedly save me. Just weeks ago, I faced a harrowing moment of clarity: I had contemplated ending my life. I had gathered pills, written a note, and devised a plan. In that moment of darkness, I reached out for help.
I called a close friend—not because I wanted to, but because I knew I needed to. The fear of being judged was overshadowed by the realization that my daughter deserves better, and I deserve better too. If you’re reading this and find yourself in a similar dark place, please remember there is hope. That voice telling you that you’re a bad parent is lying. You showed up today. You are fighting through every moment and, even when the day feels unbearable, you are stronger than you realize.
Every breath is a testament to your resilience. You are valued and loved. Keep moving forward.
For those needing support, excellent resources can be found at Healthline, which covers various aspects of mental health, and if you’re exploring family planning options, check out our post about fertility supplements at Make A Mom. For further reading, visit Modern Family Blog to gain insights on mental wellness.
Summary
Parenting while battling suicidal thoughts presents an immense challenge. The struggle is often isolating and overwhelming, but there is hope. Acknowledging the need for help is vital. It’s essential to remember that every effort to stay present for your children counts, and reaching out for support can make a difference.