My Mom Was My Best Friend Until He Destroyed Her
The Effect My Mom’s Depression Had On Me
There it went, the truck that stole my second father. I refused to say goodbye. I had to stay strong for mom. He was everything to her. He was her life. He destroyed her. He took my best friend along with him that day.
I remember her climbing into her bed that night and refusing to get out. There she lay, staring at the ceiling, for days. She couldn’t bear getting out of bed, walking downstairs to be greeted by nothing but silence. No husband to smile at her and ask her how she slept. No husband to hug her and tell her everything is going to be okay. No husband to love her. She was devastated. The man she loved, the man that cared for her children as if they were his own, was gone.
She was getting thinner; I remember the day I noticed. I hugged her, and I was able to feel every single rib. I wondered how long it had been since her last meal.
After that, we weren’t allowed weekly visits anymore; we could only see her every other week. Her condition continuously worsened until we could only see her once a month. Then, we couldn’t see her at all.
She was utterly alone. I couldn’t think of anything but her. She was my entire life; she consumed every inch of my mind. I spent every second of every day worrying about her wellbeing. I was only ten.
When Dad finally told us that mom had attempted suicide, all I could do was imagine my loving mom laying in her bed, staring at the ceiling, thinking she had nothing left to offer the world. I started to shake; I was furious, mostly with myself. I couldn’t shake the images from my mind.
The moment she rolled over, saw her painkillers and decided it was her moment to end it all. That moment replayed over and over again in my mind. Why couldn’t I have prevented this? Why wasn’t I strong enough for her? Why couldn’t I be enough to make her happy? These thoughts are all that kept running through my mind. I couldn’t believe I let this happen to the woman that loved me more than anything. I was so mad that I hadn’t been there to help her. I thought I had failed her for letting this happen. She was everything to me. She was my life. She destroyed me.
I became numb to all feelings. I pushed all my friends and family away. I started failing my classes. I became friends with horrible people. I was experimenting with drugs. I was doing anything to get my mind off my mom.
A few years went by before my dad finally noticed. That man was an angel sent from heaven; he forced me to see a therapist, saving my life.
The therapist helped me learn that I had nothing to do with my stepfather’s passing. He forced me to understand that I was only a kid, and I didn’t need to be strong for my mom. My mom was a grown woman, and she could handle herself. It was not my responsibility to make her feel better; I could not have done anything differently. He taught me how to feel emotion. It felt so good to be able to grieve my stepfather’s death finally.
Before, I was too involved with my mom’s issues to focus on my own. I had never gotten a chance to grieve for my stepfather. I never got to come to terms with his passing because I thought I had to stay strong for my mom by putting her needs before mine. My therapist helped me understand that that was not the case.
After years of seeing this therapist, I realized that I wanted to be just like him. I focused all my energy on my academics. I was so surprised by what my brain was capable of. I was able to think in ways I had never been able to. It was remarkable.
My whole life, I had accepted the idea that I was going nowhere in life, just like my mom. This belief all changed the first time I received an honor roll certificate. It changed my entire outlook on life. It made me realize that I could go somewhere in life, and I wasn’t going to end up on the street somewhere. For the first time since my mom attempted suicide, I saw the light at the end of the tunnel. I knew that to get to that light, I had to continue to work harder than anyone else. My grades continued to grow until I became the best person I could be.
Continuing with Life
Years later, I am now in one of the top nursing programs. This experience has inspired my love for helping the mentally ill. My entire life is focused on helping people in the exact position my mom was in all those years ago. It brings me great pride to say that I can help those affected with extreme depression. I can give them the support they need.
Things fall apart. That’s just a part of life. You will never be the same when something like this happens, but when it does, all you can do is learn how to pick yourself back up. You are not in charge of anyone else’s emotions, especially following traumatic events. The more you try to fix others, the more damage you will do to yourself. The only person, anyone, should be concerned with is themself. It makes no sense to try to fix others until you are perfectly content with yourself.
