Thursday, March 7, 2013
Lately I've begun to think about what The Kid may have inherited from me. I'm not talking about that dimple he seems to have gotten from me or the gorgeous brown, wavy hair he has, which could have come from either one of us. I'm more concerned about illnesses. He's already has diabetes to worry about since I was, after all, diabetic and pregnant with him. But, I'm more concerned about his mental health. I've battled depression throughout my life and, after many therapy sessions, felt well enough to stop going. Then, post partum depression hit and I had to resort to medication because no amount of therapy would have helped with what I was going through. Recently, I've had a few setbacks that need to be addressed so I will have to make an appointment with my therapist soon. I'm a huge advocate for mental health because I know having everything doesn't mean happiness. Depression is awful and it's awful for those around you. It's perfectly described in those commercials for anti-depressants. It really does hurt all over. Struggling to come up with a reason to get out of bed is hard if you, a non-depressive person, can understand. Even if the only reason you have to get out of bed is to quiet a hungry cat then there is your reason. There should be no shame in needing therapy and/or anti-depressants. And all of this makes me think about Noah and what he may have inherited from me in this particular area. I plan on being honest and open about my history in hopes that should he ever need help, that he can talk to me. Isn't that every parent's wish? To have their child feel comfortable enough to talk to them about any problems or issues they have? I hope and pray that my son can and will.