I always strive to be the best mom I can be for you. I know your favorite stories by heart, and we go through them time and again. Your colorful drawings adorn our fridge, a constant reminder of how proud I am of you. We even dive into messy fun with glitter! We bake together, and I let you crack the eggs, even if it means I’ll have to fish out bits of shell later. We zoom around with your Hot Wheels, and I do my best to be joyful for you.
But, my dear kids, there are times when I just can’t find that happiness.
You see, there’s something going on in my brain. It’s like there are magical potions that fill people with joy and laughter. Most people have these potions flowing, allowing them to enjoy life fully. Unfortunately, my potions have run dry. I’m experiencing something called depression, which makes it really tough for me to engage in all the joyful activities we love. I often wish I could laugh and play more freely, but the truth is, I struggle, and sometimes I cry. That’s just how it is with depression.
This means that sometimes I might not respond to you as kindly as I want to. I get stressed out, and I find myself raising my voice more than I should. I know that when I speak harshly, it can feel like yelling to you, and I’m truly sorry for that. I don’t wish to make you feel unwanted or sad, but the weight of my feelings can make it hard for me to be the mother I want to be. It’s a complicated mix of emotions for all of us.
Sometimes, I find myself getting upset over little things that shouldn’t bother me. You’re kids, and you naturally make a mess while playing. But when I’m feeling down, those messes can amplify my stress, leading to more yelling. It’s tough for both of us, filled with anger and frustration—something I never want to be part of our home.
There may also be moments when you see me cry. I try to keep those moments private, often shedding tears in the shower. But you might catch me crying when things get overwhelming, like when you’re arguing or not cleaning up. I remember one day when you both came to me, expressing your frustrations about each other. I broke down, and you, sweethearts, came back to offer hugs and apologies. You shouldn’t have to comfort me. I wish it didn’t happen. I wish I could make those feelings disappear.
There are days when the depression feels particularly heavy, and I struggle to find the energy to do much of anything. On those days, it’s easier to serve you quick meals—often just peanut butter and jelly—and let you watch too much TV. You might get to build forts with clothes baskets because I simply don’t have the strength to enforce rules. It’s a challenging cycle that we all feel.
But I want you to know that even through the heavy days, we can still find joy together. We can bake cupcakes, jump in puddles, and enjoy watermelon for breakfast. I will always throw baseballs with you, even when it feels hard. However, depression can cast a shadow over those moments, filling me with anger, stress, and sadness.
I’m truly sorry for the burden you sometimes bear because of my depression. We’re working hard to find ways to treat it, and I believe that, in time, I will feel better. This isn’t a forever thing.
One thing I want you to always remember is that my love for you is unshakeable. No matter what, I love you to the moon and back. I promise that one day, I’ll be in a better place.
With all my love,
Mom
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Summary
In this heartfelt letter, a mother opens up about her struggles with depression and how it impacts her relationship with her children. She explains her love for them, despite the challenges, and reassures them that her feelings are not permanent. The letter emphasizes the importance of compassion, understanding, and resilience in the face of mental health struggles.