...but now i see

anyone who's ever been depressed knows how not fun it is, but i think that being depressed with a child has to be even worse. the disease keeps you looking inside yourself and keeps you from seeing and enjoying what's right in front of you. i'll never get my daughter's first 6 months back. they're lost forever. i've mourned them and let them go.

when i was in the midst of my postpartum depression/anxiety, i asked my mom if she had experienced anything like this after she had me. i thought that if anyone knew how i felt, she would - after all, she's had emotional problems as long as i can remember. she said that she was so happy to have me that nothing could have spoiled her mood. she had had six (yes, 6) miscarriages before i was born. all signs pointed to me being the cherished miracle child!

when i went into therapy for my depression/anxiety, my therapist asked me about my parents and what it was like for me growing up. i told her that my childhood and adolescence was pretty normal and happy. she probed a little more. toward the end of the session, she looked at me intently, her eyes squinted and her mouth pursed into a little bow. she always wore these button-up dresses and inevitably one button had come loose, showing her slip underneath. i liked to stare at that bit of slip when i was uncomfortable.

finally, after what seemed like hours (but what was probably all of a minute and a half), she spoke. so...your mom has bipolar disorder and deals with it by drinking and passing out. your dad works as much as possible, probably because being home is pretty unpleasant. when you lived with them, you would come home from school and finish the dinner your mom started cooking before she passed out, clean up the house, do your homework and put yourself to bed. now, how is that normal? i opened my eyes wide. well, when you put it that way...

my eyes stayed open that day. i had always thought that just because my parents were still married while everyone else's were getting separated and divorced, we were "normal." i thought that because my parents hardly ever fought (instead, they just didn't talk at all), we were "happy." the fantasy childhood i had been carrying around with me all those years went up in smoke that day, and my parents fell off their pedestals. fortunately for them, it wasn't a long way to fall.