Failure to Launch

Living with a mental illness can be challenging. Being a parent while battling a mental illness presents its own additional obstacles.

I’ve spoken a lot about dealing with my Anorexia while doing my best to raise two well-adjusted and healthy young girls. To a certain degree, my therapy and my time at the Douglas helped give me some important tools to manage this issue with my girls. On the whole, I feel prepared and equipped for what will come with them.

What I was not prepared for was being a mom battling depression.

Depression is smart… it creeps up on you slowly, stripping you away of strength, energy and optimism. In my case, it came on so slowly – while I was busy tackling my eating issues – that I did not even see it coming. Then BAM! I struggled to open my eyes in the morning, I couldn’t stand in the shower and basic daily function was a chore.

This would have been difficult for anyone, in any situation. For me, not only could I not process and accept what was happening, I was overcome by a huge amount of guilt. I thought I was failing my old self…and I definitely thought I was failing my daughters.

At some of my lowest moments, I had a really hard time getting out of bed. I remember Zoe being in the bed with me on weekends, snuggling me, refusing to leave my side until I felt better.

As I was lying there, I was disappointed with myself. I was supposed to be the mother, the strong one, whose job it was to take care of my girls. Instead, here was my 7-year-old daughter comforting me until I could muster the strength to get up.

Even once I was able to get out of bed, I felt like I was letting everyone down.

The energetic, fake-it-till-you-make-it activities coordinator that my girls were so accustomed to had disappeared. I was a shell…numb to the life going on around me. I walked around like a Zombie, going through the motions of parenting but I was absent – not physically but mentally and spiritually. The lights were on, but no one was home.

Luckily for me, I had a patient and understanding husband – who not only jumped in and took on my load but who also understood me well enough to know I was consumed by guilt. He taught me an important lesson: true partnership is not about giving 50/50. It is about giving what you can when you can.

Still, this was one of the most difficult times in my adult life. And even though I knew I was ill, with absolutely nothing to feel bad about, I struggled with the negative feelings I had about myself.

When you define yourself by your accomplishments, it can be particularly disconcerting when you feel like you are missing the most basic life targets. Still, eventually I learned that I simply had to redefine my accomplishments. In that period, getting through the day was an achievement. I had to learn to see it that way and pat myself on the back in order to keep going.

Eventually, with a lot of support and encouragement from Charles and my doctors, I graduated from getting through the day, to getting out of bed when the girls woke up, to taking a shower. These seemingly small achievements were some of my greatest. And, with each one, I was able to get stronger and to find my way back to my girls and to find myself again.

Recently, I felt the familiar tug of depression at my heels. I tried to shake it off; tried to power through. I hovered around the line of denial. But, the signs were getting stronger and the impact on my life was starting to grow. And I was reminded of the times when I needed Zoe’s hugs and compassion to kickstart my day.

Not wanting to go back there, I have made some changes. I am back on a mild dose of antidepressant, I am taking supplements and I am running when I feel I need a mood boost. And, Santa Charles brought me a UV lamp to help me get my daily “rays.”

“Psst….mommy…can we go downstairs now,” Zoe asked this morning as soon as she opened her eyes.

Yes Zoe, we can.

Today is a good day.