I Am A Mother With Depression

If there would be a law, should it be parenting with depression is prohibited? A child looks at their parents for modeling, for motivation. They have prohibited gay people from adopting, yet wouldn’t two loving happy people parent better than a mother who often could not get out of bed, who couldn’t find the energy to get out of her pajamas and brush her hair.

I am ashamed to call myself a mother. How dare I bring innocent lives and drag them into a world full of darkness and self-loathing. I can recall going to my 7 year olds’ back to school night and her telling me if I could smile and not act like a robot. To this day my daughter wants nothing to do with me because I am not someone to be proud of. This makes me beyond sad, because through it all, my kids made me try when I felt like throwing in the towel.

Do you know what being a mom with depression is like? Imagine a regular mom, can you ever not have guilt about something…wished you read to them a little longer, wished you played with them a little longer…As mothers we are never satisfied with our performance because this is one job we can’t screw up, it is a God given job. Imagine being a mom with depression, not only do you have the guilt of how you should have been better, you have everyone telling you what a shitty job you did as a mother, especially the ones you love more than anything … your kids.

The cries for help are discusting because we are supposed to be someone to look up to but instead we are discusted to even look in a mirror.

The want to leave this earth sounds like heaven.

1 Comment

  1. Jackie says:

    Thanks for sharing your thoughts on this. I’ve been a follower of your blog for about a year now, and I surely feel most of your pains. As a result of me being forced into a divorce and being blind to my ex husband’s sinister ways, I only have my dear 8 year old son half of the time, due to a joint custody schedule that I HATE. The depression of it all falls on me daily, so I barely have enough energy to clean my apartment, or even dress myself up sometimes. I rarely sleep in my comfy bed, and fall asleep on the couch nightly. That said, when my son comes back to me he’s to stay over, he’s used to the house being a mess, he’s used to Mommy taking mid-afternoon naps and looking a mess herself, etc. I’m only thankful that at night he doesn’t see me binge drink or smoke myself until I feel numb. After everything else failing in my life, including recent unemployment and a failed relationship, he’s all I have that is Light. So he’s my motivation to try and get my life to a much better existence, though the grieving process seems to reset itself every few weeks (sigh)…take care ❤


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