I Have 'Mom Guilt' Knowing I Passed Down My Mental Health Issues to My Girls
I always wanted to be a mom. It wasn’t something I chose; it was in my DNA. There was no timeline, I just knew that having children of my own was part of my dream. I come from a big family, from parents who came from big families. I have over 100 first cousins. So when I was diagnosed with bipolar 1, which in my case is genetic, I was conflicted and terrified. At first, I thought I’d have to give up that dream but as educated myself on my disorder, learned to live with and even embrace my diagnosis, I believed I could handle it and maybe they wouldn’t inherit it. Being a mom with a mental illness is challenging for many reasons.
My psychiatrist once told me that children can be born genetically predisposed to certain mental illnesses but if they were not triggered, the illness could stay dormant. For the better part of two decades, I’ve been non-episodic save for a couple intermittent hypomanic days but no full on manic episodes like in my 20s. That was enough hope for me. I’ve tried my absolute hardest to give my girls the best life possible within my means. They are loved unconditionally, they are fed and clothed, and want for nothing. They come from a stable household with loving parents who are financially stable and, still, they both have their mental health struggles. I can’t help but blame myself when I see them struggle. Even if it was the pandemic that triggered their mental health issues, they were already genetically predisposed from me.
What to do when you realize they actually did inherit faulty mental health genes from you?
Recently, my youngest daughter told that she felt no joy, hasn’t for months, and sometimes wishes that she weren’t here. My youngest daughter has been struggling with a depressive episode and it's coming to a head. I’m scared to death. I don’t know what to do.
It’s one thing when you are in the middle of your own mental health crisis.
But quite another when the person that you love the most in the world is struggling so much that they are having suicidal ideation. I’ve always been the one fighting for her life through the episode. That was hard but not even close to how hard it is to watch my child fighting through her own episode. Seeing the pain she’s in, feeling completely helpless and knowing that I can’t do this for them. All I can do is be there for her, take her to the mental health professionals, advocate for her and get her the help she needs. It sounds like a lot, but feels like nothing.
Sharing my own mental health struggles with my teens could actually save their lives.
Having my own mental health struggles as a teen and adult, I knew that when and if I had children, I was going to teach them from a young age to be open and honest about their feelings. I was going to be open about my own mental health struggles when they were old enough to understand without being frightened. I told them both when they entered high school. Honestly, I was more afraid of what they would think about it more than anyone else I’ve ever disclosed to. I didn’t want them to look at me differently and at the same time, I wanted them to know I’m a human who struggles, too. I’ve always wanted my girls to see me as a fallible human being who makes mistakes but tries her best, keeps trying and apologizes when she does something wrong.
I think open lines of communication are the most important thing between parents and children. Honesty really is the best policy in human relationships. Since my daughters were tiny and still now they come to me with all of their feelings and questions, not just the ones I want to know about. I purposely parented in this way so that when the big issues came up, they wouldn’t feel awkward coming to me for guidance or just a compassionate ear.
Knowing that one day I was going to have to disclose my own mental health struggles to them, and there was a chance they might struggle, too, I wanted to get ahead of it all and remove the stigma that surrounds mental illness from the beginning. We talked openly about mental health since the girls were in preschool. Talk of mental illness, therapy, psychologists, psychiatrists, and psychiatric medications have always been talked about matter of factly in our house. I welcomed honest questions and discussions. I tried my best to normalize mental illness because, honestly, more people than not are suffering from some sort of mental health issue.
That didn’t make it any less stressful to bring up my diagnosis to them.
I was afraid they’d think less of me or hold it against me or worse, be afraid they’d be like me. But I had to tell them the truth and in the end, this has brought us closer and there is unspoken compassion and understanding between us. There is no judgment. Now, when they are going through their own issues, they feel comfortable enough to come to me because they know that I do understand because I have been where they are and the only thing I want to do is help them get through it, not fix them because the goal is healthy survival, not changing who they are because who they are is good enough.
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