Dear Winter, I’m Sorry

Before you read this, I encourage you to go listen to the song Dear Winter by AJR. Not just because it’s a good song, but because a lot of this post is going to reflect and mirror it (I mean hell, I’m even titling the article after it). Thanks for taking the time to go give it a listen!

So, I don’t know if I’ve ever talked to anyone about this in-depth, but I’ve always wanted to be a dad. The idea of bringing someone into this world with someone I care about, and helping them navigate the myriad ways life can go off the rails… I dunno, it’s just always felt like something I’ve wanted to do with my life. It’s never really been a possibility for me though, for a variety of reasons. But within the last couple of years it’s stopped being something that I just haven’t had the opportunity to do, and become something that I refuse to even consider.

There are so many reasons for this, its overwhelming. The world is literally on fire as the Climate Crisis begins to reach a tipping point. White Nationalists and Neo-Nazis have had a resurgence in recent years, and with them a massive increase in hate crimes. Alongside that, Nationalist movements in general have been on the rise, with The US, UK, and France electing far-right officials in various powerful positions. And of course, massive financial inequality is only getting worse for people in the rung of society that I would be bringing them into.

Any ONE of these would make having a kid a risky and uncomfortable decision to make, but with all of this going on at once… the idea of raising someone in this environment is terrifying. How would I look at my daughter and explain to her that Greta Thunberg was being sent death threats because she to hold people to account for their climate crimes? Or teach my son to be empathetic and kind in the face of people like Donald Trump and Boris Johnson having such fanatic followings? Gods forbid that my child be trans or non-binary, the horrors they’d have to personally deal with just for being who they are…

On top of all of this is my own diagnosis of Bi-Polar disorder. How do you explain to your children that your brain occasionally blows a fuse and daddy can’t be happy for awhile? And how could you help them understand that the same thing that makes daddy inexplicably sad for days on end is also why he’s so excited and unfocused for a day.

And how would I be able to break it to them that there is a real chance that they would also have to live with that burden?

Sure, there’s a chance that it could pass them by. A pretty good chance, if we’re being honest. But after having lived through all of the things associated with Bi-Polar: my own suicide attempt, the constant use of my mental illness against me as if my lived experiences are lesser for it, the careful management of my stress and the regular worry over if I am in an episode, or if I had an episode, or any number of other concerns I have every single day regarding my disorder.

I’m not saying that people who have Bi-Polar disorder shouldn’t have children. We most certainly should. What I’m saying is that anyone with Bi-Polar disorder who consciously decides to have children is a far braver person than I.

Dear Winter, I’m sorry that you don’t get to be born. I’m not brave enough to burden you with the possibility of what I’ve had to bear yet. Maybe some day.

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