In my life I have battled depression since about age 20 and anxiety since about age 5.
I remember clearly the first time I had a panic attack at age 5--- I did not under any circumstances want to go to gym class. I remember looking at myself in the mirror and thinking "what is wrong with me?"
I couldn't understand (and sometimes still cannot) why it seems like a sunny day for everyone else when I am wearing a suit of rain.
This is something that I am terrified to pass on to my daughter. I am not "terrified" in the sense that everyone tosses around that word. I am not "terrified" as you were watching the latest horror movie. I am terrified in the way that my entire body shuts down and I can't process another thought.
The worst thing about being a parent is that our child stands to inherit the worst parts of us. For me it isn't thinking about my thighs, my freckles, my tendency to clear my throat too often when nervous...it's a mental illness.
Many times in my life I have had someone say something right just in the nick of time, regarding my depression and anxiety. And I think it happened again last night.
My husband said. "For two months you haven't been yourself, you just seem sad all the time."
So it's time to get serious about fighting again. Because if my daughter does happen to become depressed or anxious, I hope that she is always able to reference how to battle.
Because that's what her mama does.
Lyrics courtesy of Counting Crows: Tuesday in Amersterdam