As your mother, I strive to create a nurturing and joyful environment for you. I know all your favorite stories by heart, and I proudly display your artwork on the fridge. Together, we whip up cupcakes in the kitchen, and I even let you crack the eggs, though it often means picking bits of shell from the batter. We enjoy playing with your Hot Wheels, and I aim to share in your happiness.
But, my dear ones, sometimes I struggle.
You see, there’s something that affects how my brain works. It’s like having magical potions that bring joy and energy—potions that most people have in abundance. Unfortunately, mine have run dry. This absence makes it challenging for me to engage in the joyful activities I want to share with you. This condition is known as depression. When I’m dealing with it, laughter, dancing, and playing can feel out of reach, even when I deeply wish to join in. Sometimes, I cry, and it’s simply because the happiness potions are missing.
This means that occasionally, when I want to be patient and kind, I find it difficult. I become stressed and may raise my voice more than I intend to. I know that even a sharp tone can feel like yelling, and I’m sorry for those moments. When you ask for something simple, like a glass of water, and I respond with irritation, it’s not fair to you. I don’t want to make you feel unwanted; it hurts me just as much.
There are times when I get upset over things that shouldn’t bother me. You are children, and playing often leads to messes. While messes are only an issue if they aren’t cleaned up, my depression twists that reality. I find myself yelling at you to tidy up, and I may even threaten to take away your toys. This cycle of anger is exhausting for all of us.
You might catch me crying sometimes. I try to keep those moments hidden, usually letting the tears flow in the shower. But there are days when my sadness spills over, like the time you were upset with each other, and I couldn’t cope with the chaos. I know it’s tough for you to see me like that. You came back later and comforted me with a hug, and though it was sweet, you shouldn’t have to carry that burden.
On particularly dark days, I might only manage to serve you easy meals like peanut butter and jelly, and you may watch more television than is healthy. I allow you to build forts out of laundry baskets and break the rules because I lack the energy to enforce them. Depression can drain my strength.
Yet, I want you to know that even amidst this struggle, we can still find joy. We can bake, splash in puddles, enjoy watermelon for breakfast, and play in the yard. I promise to pitch baseballs for you, but there are days when depression makes it seem impossible. It fills me with frustration, sadness, and an overwhelming sense of emptiness.
I apologize for the challenges you face due to my depression. We are actively working on treatment, and I believe that brighter days will come. This feeling is not forever.
Despite everything, one thing remains unchanged: my love for each of you is immense. I love you to the moon and back, and I am determined to overcome this.
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In summary, I want you to know that while my depression creates challenges, my love for you remains steadfast. We will navigate this together.