In the kitchen, Sarah and I were preparing dinner while our three kids enjoyed a movie in the living room. I turned to her, voicing my feelings of inadequacy as a parent. Sarah, dressed casually in a grey sweater and jeans, arched her brow and asked, “How can you feel that way?”
I leaned against the counter, staring at the floor, and confessed, “I don’t know. I just feel like I’m not doing enough.”
As is often the case, I struggled to articulate my feelings of failure. Deep inside, I felt a sense of hopelessness that seemed to be my constant companion. I’ve battled depression and anxiety for most of my life, particularly during my late teens when I developed obsessive-compulsive disorder. I dropped out of college and often found myself in dark places, contemplating suicide.
Now, my life is relatively stable, but the struggle continues. I have my ups and downs, and sometimes, I confide in my wife about how I feel like I’m failing, and she steps in like a calm negotiator pulling someone away from a ledge.
Conversations About Life
She inquired about work, and I admitted it had been tough lately, but I was holding it together. When she asked about the kids, I shared my thoughts: our middle child was charming yet cheeky, our son needed more outdoor playtime, and our youngest resembled a wild raccoon, but she always made me smile.
“I feel like I’m working too hard,” I added. “It makes me feel like I’m not the father I want to be.”
“You’re doing great,” she replied reassuringly.
We began to list our successes, and she reminded me of our upcoming camping trip with Norah and how I had surprised Liam with a new book he adored. Her love and support helped lift my spirits, and I started to feel less like a failure. It’s amazing how a few encouraging words can help shift my perspective.
“Do you feel any better?” she asked.
“Yes, a little. Thank you,” I replied.
Understanding Each Other
“Can I ask you something?” she continued.
“Of course,” I said.
“Am I not making you happy?”
Although Sarah has always been supportive, I realized she might not fully grasp my struggles. Her innate happiness is one of the reasons I was drawn to her.
“No, that’s not it at all!” I exclaimed. “You keep me grounded.” I paused to choose my words carefully. “When I first began facing anxiety, I thought it stemmed from external factors—my father’s addiction, my parents’ divorce. But I’ve come to understand that it’s more complex than that.”
I explained how I used to rely on medication to manage panic attacks and how a doctor’s advice to exercise led me down a path of obsessive fitness, which ironically increased my anxiety. “It was completely irrational,” I told her. “I felt like I was running from shadows.”
I elaborated on how it’s easy for someone struggling with depression to misinterpret their unhappiness, often projecting it onto their partner. “Realizing I was the source of my own issues was a breakthrough for me,” I said. “When you help me see that I have no reason to feel like I’m failing as a parent, you’re offering support that’s invaluable.”
Sarah looked at me intently and said, “I understand.”
The Essence of Marriage
It’s often challenging to articulate mental illness, even to myself. The struggle is real, and as a parent dealing with anxiety and depression, it can feel overwhelming. You worry about hypothetical situations while leaning on your partner to help clarify reality. Yet, this is the essence of marriage—mutual support and understanding.
If you want to learn more about the emotional aspects of parenting and mental health, check out our other posts on privacy and support here. For those exploring family planning, an excellent resource is Genetics and IVF Institute, and for tools to help with home insemination, visit Make A Mom.
Conclusion
In summary, navigating the complexities of parenthood while managing anxiety and depression can be challenging. The key lies in open communication and the support of a loving partner, allowing for a more balanced perspective on both parenting and mental health.