My children often ask me about my greatest fears, and I find myself hesitating to share my true feelings. I usually respond that I’m afraid of something bad happening to them. The reality, however, is that my biggest fear is dying and leaving them to face the challenges of growing up without my guidance. It’s not that I doubt my partner’s ability to step in; I have seen firsthand how difficult it can be to lose a spouse and manage parenting alone. My father struggled after my mother passed away, and I remember the stark contrast between having two parents and then just one.
I lost my mother when I was just 16. The thought of leaving my kids to grow up without me haunts me because I know the impact of losing a mother all too well. I sank into a deep depression during my teenage years, and my dad was unable to provide the support I desperately needed as he grappled with his own grief. It terrifies me that my kids might experience a similar descent into depression, as I did, feeling suffocated by the weight of loss.
The shock of my mother’s death lingered like a daily reminder as I woke each morning. I lost interest in activities we shared, like dance, and I even quit because it felt pointless without her. My schoolwork suffered, and though I managed to graduate with honors, it was a hollow achievement. I became reckless, attending parties and engaging in behaviors that I once would have avoided. Somehow, I survived. I often think it was a mix of luck and divine intervention.
Even though it’s been 25 years since her passing, I can still find myself spiraling into the memories of that dark time. I spent countless hours writing about my feelings, feeling utterly alone and tormented, while those around me remained oblivious to my struggles. I did have friends, but no one truly understood the depth of my pain. It wasn’t until I was 19 that I recognized the signs of teenage depression, realizing I had been living in that state for years.
I confided in a family member during my healing process, but she dismissed my feelings, telling me I couldn’t have been that bad off. This response left me confused and invalidated, making me hesitate to seek the help I needed. Despite my struggles, I eventually found a way to heal, but I know that professional support would have accelerated that process. As an adult and a mother now, I recognize the signs of depression more clearly than I did as a teenager, and I regret that I didn’t get the validation I needed back then.
When my children ask about my fears, I can’t bring myself to tell them the truth, fearing it would frighten them. I pray every night that my boys will never have to endure the pain I faced without a mother. Perhaps one day, I’ll be able to share my experiences with them, but for now, I focus on providing them with the support they need.
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In summary, losing my mother shaped my teenage years and left a lasting impact on my mental health. I struggled with depression and felt isolated during that time. As a parent, I’m determined to ensure that my children have the support they need, and I hope they never have to face the same challenges I did.