Toddlers and Tantrums (Pt. 2.5)

Being a parent is hard. Being a parent with mental illnesses is even more difficult. There are days where I just want to lay in bed all day and just try to sleep away the depression. But that isn't how it happens. It's never how it happens.

I still get out of bed to care for my children, but I often forget to put on clean clothes. On myself or my kids, so the day is spent in pajamas. Meals are sometimes forgotten until I am told that they want to eat. By that time, I'm confused at how much time could have passed already.

Time always feels like it's crawling by, or going by way too fast. Most of the time during my bad days, I feel like I'm not spending enough time with my kids. Even if I spend the whole day with them. I always enjoy cuddling with them on my bad days, but it's better on my good days.

Some would probably tell me that I should be grateful for what I have in my life, and that I have no reason to be depressed. While to them, their statements may be true, but that isn't how mental illness works. I am grateful for everything I have in my life. I have a roof over my head, clothes on my body, food in my kitchen, and a family that I love. Some days, I do have legitimate reasons to be upset, but depression is a being all its own.

Depression sucks all of the energy away from my body. Makes me hurt physically while I can't be bothered mentally to do anything about it. Anxiety makes me worry about everything all at once. My heart will race for no reason, my thoughts will race and make no sense, and my body will twitch and jerk randomly despite any pain. PTSD makes me lose sleep because of the nightmares. Nightmares that are never replays of the events, but replaying the emotions felt during them. Often this leads to waking up with a panic attack and starting my day in a state of fight or flight. It's all so exhausting.

Those days, I am truly grateful that my husband works third shift. Because by the time he comes home, he can provide the deep pressure I need that my weighted blanket doesn't provide enough of. He never complains, just asks me when I'm okay enough for him to let go. I'm glad he never questions what triggered the attacks, because it's almost always from nightmares. The nightmares are always what gets to me. I'm not ready to tell him any details yet anyway, but I know that sometime I will be. Maybe once I've processed it all with my EMDR therapy I could tell him. I'm glad that I met him, though. I'm happy that he's my husband and kids' dad. He's my person.

Though he still struggles himself to be a dad when he's fighting his own personal battles. He does his best even when his energy is low, and his mood isn't the greatest. He fights every day to achieve his goal of being better. And while he may not see it, I do.

I can see that he's an amazing man, a loving father, and a caring husband. Someday, I know he'll be a great EMT as well.

But even on the days we struggle, we do it. We try our best to be the parents that our kids need. We're there for them when they need us, we care for them even though they try to be independent. We encourage them to reach the goals they set for themselves, and let them have big dreams. Most importantly, we love them, and each other, even when we may not be able to love ourselves.