This is part 3 of a series on depression and motherhood, please read the first two posts as they are written in order.
Post-survivors I came home to reality. By that I mean the consequences of my past and most recent behaviors. At survivors I learned I was a co-dependent person, I had cptsd, ptsd, and childhood trauma. Although it became clear for the first time in my life that I was not at fault for all the bad things that happened to me, I was responsible for my own behavior and my healing journey. I was now aware that my son and daughter and husband knew a very different person than the one I wanted to be. I came home to a tired and cautious husband, and two screaming children. I had been away for a long time from their perspective and I’m sure it was scary. I knew it was the right thing to do, even though it felt so drastic. It was worth it.
Survivors kickstarted my recovery. But what is recovery? Haven’t I been doing all the things already? Yes and no. I’ve been on a healing journey that’s for sure, but the moment I saw the whole story, truth, and my powerlessness over all of it, that’s when the healing happens. To recognize truth is to see your own actions and the actions of others accurately. No false or misplaced blame, just raw truth of the situation. I started to see it. I had to own my truth now and begin taking actions and steps to heal and become my authentic self. I had start recognizing my own reality for what it is. I was sick, mentally ill. I didn’t want it to be, I had dreams of being a certain type of wife, mother, friend, sister, and Christian. But this was me. I was sick and I need healing. I need help. I need to surrender to that truth. My depression is still with me, it still effects my kids, my friends, my husband, my spirituality. I own that. I have a long list of coping strategies of how I cope with my mental illness, and I have lots of support. Out of all this time I realize I am nothing without my support. Recognizing I’m powerless over my depression only gave me freedom. Freedom from the need to control, have all the answers, be right, and be what I want others to perceive me as. In so doing, I’m free to make mistakes, be sick, be mentally ill, be humbled, be forgiven, be open, to be me. Now I feel more like me than ever before and since this journey started and I’ve added even more diagnosis to the list!
No matter what the diagnosis, living as a mother with mental illness is tough. You are not alone! We need all the support we can get! Your story and journey matter. As mothers our mental health greatly effects our families. I grieved this for a long time but came to learn that my kids don’t need a happy mom, they need an authentic mom. I own my behaviors, I apologize, when necessary, I love, and I self-care. I give them an example of what it’s like to be an authentic and flawed human being.