I’m not sure where to begin.
I know the day I snapped scared you. I slammed the door to my room, and you could hear me scream from the other side of the house. It was my darkest day.
I could still see your faces when I came downstairs. It was hard to look at you. I felt so ashamed for what I had done. I can only imagine what was going through your minds.
I swore I would never let you see my mental health struggles in a way that could damage you. My mind had quite literally separated from my body at that moment. Logic and reason did not have a place in my world. And that is not your fault.
Some days I’m sorry you have me as a mother. Someone who loses her patience when you scream. Someone who doesn’t always know how to cope with emotion. Someone overwhelmed by large crowds or germs or too much activity in the house.
That’s what mental illness has done to me. You think you’re ok. Until you’re not. The weight of holding it all down became too much to bear that day. I remember like it was yesterday, and I will forever regret the moment I terrified you.
I finally reached out for help after that day. I know you could feel the changes once that help kicked in.
It’s hard to suppress the tears as I write to you because, even two years later, I still feel the weight of that day.
I want you to know how much I love you. How much I want the best for you. And how absolutely sorry I am for putting you in a position where you had to witness my breakdown. I hope I haven’t caused too much damage.
I’m sorry you have to live with a parent who is constantly battling with her mental health. I hope you never have to know that struggle within yourself.
But if you do, know that I am here for you. I know how to be a better mother now. I watch you every day to make sure I catch you before you fall.
And if you do, please know you have a safe place in us. We will pick you up, hug you, and hold you while you cry.
You said something to me the other day, something that I will hold onto for the rest of my life, “You’re the only mama I could ever want.”
On the days that I really struggle. On those days, I feel really sad. On the days I question whether or not I should have even become a mother. And on the good days. I remember those words and remember how amazingly lucky I am that I have the three of you.
Just as you said, I’m the only mama you could ever want; you are the only children I could ever want. You make me fight to keep going and find joy every day.
I am proud of who you are and who you will become.
I am thankful for your endless love.
I am grateful I get to be your mother, even on my darkest day.