Showing posts with label mental health. Show all posts

Tuesday Truth: Angry and Hurt Moms Cause Angry And Hurt Kids


A few days ago I had a terrible mommy moment.  I was tired, exhausted, and frustrated.  I was attempting to get out the house on time for a certain event and the children were not cooperating.  One had "forgotten" how to put on her shoes.  Another refused to leave without her lovie.  The littlest screamed from being placed in a carseat when he clearly wanted to lie on the floor for a while.  We were late.  I was so overwhelmed.  When little voices gave way to whining, I lost it and launched into a raised voice tirade (no curse words) that ended in a very hurtful dismissal.  The effect was instantaneous.  There was no more whining.  There was no sound at all.  Just a quivering lip, watery eyes, and a slow walk to the car.  I felt like crap.

Depression is..

My aunt is dead.  There's no jokes.  No corny metaphors.  No #bloglife or click bait. This is real life.  This is happening.  Yesterday, I received a text from my mother (our preferred way to communicate) asking me to call her ASAP.  Shortly thereafter, I received a text from one of my aunts asking if I'd spoken to my mom.  I already knew something bad was about to be shared.  I called my mom and there wasn't a "hi Mom" greeting.  It was "what's wrong?".  She couldn't get the words out.  She couldn't wrap her tongue around what she was trying to tell me.  It finally tumbled out..."Aunt C [name removed from privacy] is dead.  She ended her own life.  She...committed..she took her life..she's dead".  And I hit the floor.


Depression is Real



Many years ago, I wrote a poem while in high school. I was going through depression then, but no one knew it. I smiled every day. I was polite and poised. I made sure to represent my family’s name well. I made sure to maintain high grades and speak positive. I encouraged others and made sure no one left my presence without feeling like I truly cared about their well being. Inside I was dying. I walked out of one room with a smile and turned the corner by myself with a frown. I compared myself to other incessantly. Why wasn’t I popular? Why didn’t people like me? Why did I get teased so much? Why wasn’t my mother raising me? Why wasn’t my father raising me? I was hurt. When I wrote the poem, it was to explain to myself what I was feeling and the impact it was having on me.

Yesterday I was saddened to read the news of Kate Spade, who chose to commit suicide to escape her personal struggles. I can only imagine the heartbreak she felt in believing the world and her family would be better off without her presence. I can only imagine how hard her husband, daughter, and loved ones are searching to see if there were signs. Of course, now there are rumors of splits and mental illness. That now is not the point. With her gone, all that remains is the prevention of another such tragedy before it’s too late.