Dear Kids,
As your mother, I strive to provide you with a nurturing and joyful environment. I’ve memorized the stories that make you giggle and proudly display your colorful crafts on the fridge. We share moments of fun—like baking cupcakes together, where I let you crack the eggs, even if it means fishing out some shell bits later. We race Hot Wheels and I aim to be a source of happiness for you.
But sometimes, I find it difficult to maintain that cheerful facade. There’s something happening in my mind that makes everything feel heavier. To put it simply, it’s as if my brain has lost access to the magical potions that bring joy and laughter. Most people are blessed with these potions, allowing them to dance, play, and embrace life. For me, however, those potions have dried up, leaving me with a shadow known as depression. When I’m in this state, it can feel impossible to engage in the joyful activities I desperately want to share with you.
This struggle means that, at times, I may not respond to you as kindly as I would like. I know that my harsh words can come off as yelling, even when I don’t mean to raise my voice. There are days when something as simple as asking for a glass of water can trigger an unkind response from me, and for that, I am truly sorry. I never want you to feel unloved or unwanted; it’s a challenging journey for all of us.
There are moments when I become overwhelmed by things that shouldn’t bother me. You’re kids, and messes are part of your playtime. But when I’m battling depression, those messes can feel like insurmountable problems, leading to more yelling and frustration from both sides. I hate that it creates tension and sadness within our home.
Some days, you might notice me in tears. I do my best to keep my emotions hidden, often crying in the shower to keep you from feeling burdened. But sometimes, I can’t hold it back. Recently, when you both were arguing and I felt helpless, I broke down. You tried to comfort me with your little hugs, which was sweet, but I don’t want you to feel like you need to take care of me. That’s not your job.
There are days when depression looms heavy, and I find myself serving you quick meals while allowing too much screen time. I feel drained and lacking the energy to engage in our usual activities. It’s a struggle, and I wish it were different.
Yet, it’s important to know that even during these hard times, joy can still exist. We can make cupcakes and splash in puddles. We can have watermelon for breakfast and play tag in the yard. But, depression can steal some of my ability to make those moments happen. It brings feelings of anger, stress, and sadness that can be overwhelming.
I’m truly sorry for the burden my depression can place on you. We are actively working on finding solutions to help me feel better. It’s a process, and while it may take time, I promise this isn’t forever.
One thing that remains unwavering is my love for you. No matter how dark things may feel, my affection for you is as vast as the universe. Someday, I promise to be in a better place.
With all my love,
Mom
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