We all fight battles. I fight anxiety, depression, bipolar and more. Some days I’m happy and loving and warm. Other days I’m distant, detached and cold.
My children are now old enough to verbalize that they notice when mommy is “mean” or “grumpy”. That breaks my heart.
They know mommy wrote a book about how hard life can be sometimes. They know when mommy gets sick(er), she goes to a different hospital than most other people.
See, my children have been on the psych ward to visit their mom. They’ve witnessed breakdowns, and mommy disappearing for days unexpectedly without telling them goodbye.
They know mommy gets sad sometimes and that means she sleeps a lot or doesn’t play with them as much.
But they also know that when mommy feels ok, she snuggles and cuddles and sings them to sleep at night.
They know that no matter what, mommy is there for every game, concert, conference and doctor appointment.
I hope they know how much I love them. I hope they learn that mental illness is something to treat with respect like other illnesses. I hope they never suffer like their mom.
Most of all, I hope that when they are old enough to look back on their childhood, that they will see that their mommy fought so hard to stay alive, to get treatment, to be present for them. I hope they love me and not resent me. I hope they know that they mean more to me than they could ever fathom and that every day I wake up, put on my cape and fight like hell for them.
I’m not a super hero, or a hero at all. But I wear a cape of determination just for them. I hope they see that I did everything I could to be the best mom that I could be.
I hope they see the real me.~Lindsay