By: Emily Carter
Updated: April 7, 2021
Originally Published: January 23, 2018
The dawn light creeps into my bedroom just after 6 a.m., filtering through the narrow gap in the curtains and stirring me from sleep. I inhale deeply, savoring the warmth of the day filling my lungs, and as I breathe out, the reality strikes me: I’m still here.
I want to be here, truly. I am a wife and a mother to an incredible, spirited little girl. Yet, my mental health challenges make existence feel like a burden. Breathing can be painful, and some days, just living appears unattainable. In my darkest moments, suicide seems like the only escape, the only option.
This is the reality of living with a mental illness, where persistent suicidal ideations overshadow the joys of parenthood. Parenting, in any context, is demanding, but doing so while grappling with these thoughts feels insurmountable.
When engulfed by these feelings, you lose sight of yourself. Despair and hopelessness take over, making you feel utterly alone—even in a crowded room. You might think that nothing matters, including your own existence, convinced that your loved ones would be better off without you. That relentless internal voice insists that the world would be better without you, and it won’t quiet down.
Everything that once brought joy now feels heavy. Laughter is painful, love feels burdensome, and the very act of living becomes a struggle. The weight of existence bears down on you, and time seems to freeze. In those moments, thoughts of suicide become all-consuming, creating an obsession with seeking a way out. However, as a parent, the option to withdraw isn’t feasible; you must continue to be “functional.”
I strive to be functional for my daughter. But am I always succeeding? No. There are days when my illness prevails, when I find it impossible to think or even breathe without immense effort. On those days, I falter as a parent. Dinner might consist of Pop-Tarts, and I might let my daughter color on the walls while I collapse in exhaustion on the kitchen floor. We may forgo bathtime and stay up well past her bedtime, with me parenting “from the couch,” dozing off while she watches her favorite shows.
Yet, I endure because I love her deeply. I push through for her sake, believing that sometimes, a distant parent is better than no parent at all. It may sound irrational, but my daughter deserves a mother who is present, and to be that mother, I occasionally need to disconnect and breathe.
That said, I won’t pretend that these moments of respite magically resolve everything. Love alone cannot heal; I know this all too well. Not long ago, I faced a critical moment in my life. I had acquired medication, drafted a note, and formulated a plan to end my life. But in a fleeting moment of clarity, I reached out for help. I called a close friend, even though I feared his intervention. I made that call because my daughter deserved more, and so did I. Every parent battling pain deserves a chance at healing.
If you find yourself in a dark place, I want you to know that there is light ahead. That voice telling you that you are a bad parent is deceitful. No matter how you feel, showing up today is a testament to your strength. Every effort, every breath counts. You are valued and cared for; keep moving forward.
For additional support, visit the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline, or explore resources like the Genetics and IVF Institute for insights on fertility and mental health.