As a person-with-depression, I have good days and bad days. Do I have more bad days than people without depression have? How would I know? There’s never anyone else on the therapist’s couch with you, and all you can see are other people’s outsides. What I believe is that my bad days are worse than most people’s bad days. They aren’t the worst kinds of days a person can have. Not by a long shot. But they suck.
Dylan is stuck with me. He’s along for my ride.
On good days, I am an excited, engaged, creative parent. Songs! Explanations! Ideas! Love!
On bad days, I’m kind of a lump. Stares. Sighs. Turning away. Some hard core whining.
When I’m feeling like a lump, I feel guilty about sticking Dylan with me. I worry that my bad moods are damaging to him somehow. I worry that my moods changing from highs to lows are confusing for him. I wish that he had a better mother.
When I’m not in a depressed mood, I know that that’s all bullshit. Dylan deserves a mother who is human, who has ups and downs, and who isn’t the picture of perfection all the time. And he definitely deserves his actual mother. I am exactly the mother he needs and wants.
What’s your big insecurity as a parent? I’m sure we all have them. What’s the thing that’s central to your personality that makes you question your worth as a parent?