The suicidal momma who’s sticking around for her kids

Here I am lying in bed, trying to will myself to get up. Part of me wishes I hadn’t woken up this morning – that I could fade away into nothingness because it seems a hell of a lot better than dealing with the demons I fight off daily in my head. Oh how I want to die. How I wish to stand on a mountain top and scream from its ledge as I leap into the darkness that would encompass me.

There’s a question in my mind: “Is this life really worth all the effort?”

And then there’s the moment when it all rushes back to me, when I remember why I keep fighting. I summon all my strength to push myself out of bed because the kids need to be fed and cared for.

My child’s impending birthday party means I have to stick around for a little while longer. My heart aches to leave these beautiful boys without a mom yet my heart longs to disappear forever. This is the tug of war of mental illness and suicidal thoughts.

I feel guilty for wondering what I ever did to deserve such a gift and simultaneously hate myself for ever wanting to disappear. The love I feel wells in equal proportion to my guilt and I can’t decide if my tears are ones of joy and thanksgiving or shame and self-hatred.

I fight through each day, each action a tremendous victory. It’s far from perfect, but it doesn’t matter because I’m there for another day. I show up for another day. I do what I have to do to survive. Sure, the kids will eat pop tarts in the car for dinner and I haven’t showered in four days and I’m living on a diet of drive thru cola and my kid’s left-overs, but none of that matters because I’m still here. I’m still fighting — despite everything.

I’m fighting against all odds because my children need me. I struggle and I persevere because there is nothing more powerful than my will to protect my kids. They don’t know it yet, but their mom is a warrior, a testament to the unyielding power of love.

Yes, people may judge me because I haven’t changed my clothes in three days or they hear me crying to myself in the bathroom stall or they disagree with the way I parent my kids, but none of that matters. It doesn’t matter because I showed up and I loved my kids and that’s enough.

Let that be enough.


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