Where do I even start?
It’s been a rough week. I fell face first into depression. It’s like watching a scary movie and the character is moving TOWARDS the noise… and you’re on the edge of your seat screaming “noooo! Don’t go in there! WHAT ARE DOING?!”
So, I watched myself fall… I screamed, “no!”… Heck, even the hubby noticed and tried to get me out of it. I guess sometimes there is no getting out of it. I just disassociate and move on… er…. down. Far down.
What happened to make me fall? Failure. Or, the illusion of failure anyway.
My son was suspended from school for a day. I felt like I was already in pretty rough waters before this. We’ve been trying so hard to help Ethan understand how to regulate himself by looking at what emotion he’s feeling and what to do if it’s getting out of hand. I would remind him (calmly) every day before school that his hands are NOT for hitting. And then BAM! Suspended.
When you walk in the school to have a meeting with the teacher all the school associates know what happened. And they all look at you like your kid is the devil, and you’re a horrible parent. I could feel the judgey eyes. I’m sure that usually in these situations the children committing the crime have parents that don’t give a shit (I should know, I have a friend that works in schools and tells me it’s a huge problem). But I do give a shit…so this was painful, and made my fall down very easy.
Now for the real (not-so) fun part. When I get into slumps I tend to forget all about me. I forget about my husband, too. I was one-hundred percent focused on helping Ethan. I felt like I had failed him. What do I matter anyway? So, I started getting books on ADHD to see if there’s anything in there that could possibly help. I called up friends and family to help navigate what’s going on. I bought a fidget cube in the hopes that maybe he just needs something to put his anxiety into. I had already bought a program on self-regulation, read plenty of books (Hands Are Not For Hitting, and I Can Handle It, I Am Kind, I Am Peace). I’m always looking for new books that help promote awareness of emotions and being able to handle them.
When I finally recognized I was down deep and I needed to get out somehow guess who popped in to say hello. Yup. Failure. It’s always interesting to me that it doesn’t really matter how much you KNOW what’s going on. It doesn’t matter that you KNOW you’re not a failure. You watch your ass fall anyway. And when you’re just right there on the edge about to pull yourself out you get a boot to the face that says, “nope, you haven’t learned your lesson yet. Stay down there.”
What made me fall the hardest was ME. I know that. I own that. But I love my son so much and I would do just about anything, especially fall down deep for a while so I can just focus on him. I guess a part of me just wanted to get everything figured out so I could help in the best way possible. I wanted so badly for him to feel comfortable in school. I so badly want him to be successful and have everything he needs to make that happen. I suppose it’s just my instinct of wanting to protect him.
It’s funny, though. As I’m now finally crawling out and there isn’t a boot showing up out of nowhere to kick me back in…the person who brought me out of my depression wasn’t just me.
Last night I watched as five little fingers and an itty palm reached down and yanked my whole being right out that hole. As he was settling into bed and I snuggled up to him Ethan says, “Mama, you’re the best mom in the whole wide world.” And as I’m trying like mad to hold back the tears, he touches my face and says, “You are so beautiful.”
Finally! Take that illusion of failure!
It’s so crazy how depression just rears it’s ugly ass head and I’m left to just watch myself bury myself deeper and deeper. And it’s amazing to me how many people can try and give me all the advice and care and love for me in all the right ways… but the one person that brought me out…my reason for falling so hard because I care so much, was my little angel of a son.
He pulled me out and reminded me that I’m not a failure. I couldn’t possibly be failing him, especially when I work so hard to help him.
There is so much more to this story that was left way out. I’m working on a post for (hopefully) next week that will dive more into what’s going on there.
I hope that if you ever feel like a failure there is that light at the end of the tunnel that pulls you right out of that deep depression. This time my light was my son. Is there someone or something that helps you get out? Who was your light the last time you were down too deep?
I pray the wind is forever at your back,