I don’t have any kids, much less do I have any kids who have suffered from depression.
I can’t begin to fathom what it is like to lose a son or daughter to depression, to see your child battle every nightmare they have ever had, to watch them fight day-in and day-out to try and be happy — to try and keep going.
I can only imagine the pain a parent feels when they go to wake their little boy up and realize that he is gone. I can only imagine what it is like to have to bury your little girl because that disease overpowered her ability to keep fighting.
I won’t even begin to pretend that I know what that is like.
I do know what it is like to be that boy who every day is having to find a reason that his life is worth living. I do know how hard it is to wake up and face your greatest nightmares and pretend that everything is okay.
I know what it is like to be lonely and lost, what it is like to feel like everything is going against you, and that this life is entirely worthless — that your life is completely worthless.
I have poured the pills in my hand ready to take them all without a second thought. I have laid in bed and thought about how much easier things would be, for everyone, if I didn’t wake up.
My mom never tried to fix me. She never tried to make me feel like my depression wasn’t real, or like I should ignore it and hope it goes away.
My mom never wanted to fix me; she wanted to help me.
I saw a post on Facebook from a mother whose son lost his battle with depression. She said in that post, “…we tried to fix him…” and it took me back to the nights of laying in bed praying that I would never wake up, praying that it would be my last time to fall asleep.
The truth is, you can’t fix depression.
You can’t take enough pills to fix it; you can’t go to enough counseling sessions, you can’t pray enough, or hope hard enough for the depression to just be fixed.
The pills will numb the pain, the sessions will help you overcome it, the prayer will give you hope, and the hope will provide you with the power to keep fighting. But nothing is going to fix it.
One thing I have learned from those nights of wondering how many pills it would take to not wake up is that nothing is going to fix it, and absolutely no one can fix someone else’s battle with depression.
It is always a battle, but it is about finding the people who can help with it.
My mom couldn’t fix me; she couldn’t fix my depression — she couldn’t end the battle I was facing.
All my mom could do — all she needed to do was help me with it, help me get through it, help me in my battle with depression.
I beg you if you are the parent of a child suffering from a mental illness, depression or anxiety or anything else, just listen.
Listen and be there, be there to help.
Don’t try to fix it. Don’t try to do it your way. Don’t try to change them.
Just be there for them. Be there to help them when they are living those nightmares and facing those demons. Be there to support them when they need it, and help them in the battles they are going through.
More times than not, all we need is to know you are here.