Weakness; something that breaks you down,but not only yourself, everyone around you.
Imagine waking up and seeing someone you love struggle just to get out of bed in the morning.
Depression. It’s a weakness. Depression isn’t just being sad all the time, it’s not being depressed when things go wrong, it’s when you just got a new job and you still have no motivation to get out of bed, it’s when you get good news from a family member but you can’t seem to find the strength to celebrate it.
My mom struggles with depression and at times, struggle can be a bit of an understatement.
It’s not something you can overcome, you have to live with it. Sure there are medications you can take that are suppose to give you energy or as my mom would refer to them as ‘happy pills’.
But does the medication truly work? Does it give you a sense of personal happiness? A sense of ease? Or would the idea of having to take medication to feel ‘normal’ only lower your self-worth?
It’s the feelings you can’t escape from and the voices you can’t ignore. It doesn’t go away and that’s what people don’t understand. At one point, I didn’t understand it myself. Growing up and experiencing what I’ve experienced by  living with my moms depression, at times I dug myself into a dark hole I couldn’t seem to climb out of. The lack of motivation to go school on a daily basis or even winning the championship game at my softball tournament couldn’t beat the overwhelming umbrella of sadness that was hung above my head.
It’s Tuesday, 7:00am and I’m pacing back and forth making sure I’ve got everything I need for school; headphones to tune out the loud diverse voices throughout the hallways, my psychology book that I probably won’t end up even attempting to take out of my backpack and most importantly, my lunch.
“I can’t take you to school today, just stay home with me and we can do some errands together.” It was no surprise that my mom wanted me to stay home. Typically you would expect most kids in middle school or high school to praise their parents for not just allowing, but offering them to stay home for the day! I much rather be in class learning about operant conditioning in psychology, making jokes at lunch with my friends or even listening to one of my teachers ramble on about a topic totally unrelated to anything we’re learning. Instead, I’m watching my mom lay in bed, either being negative or just sitting in complete silence. It was excruciating.
“I’ll pick you up from school, be ready.”
That got old, really quick.
The bell rung at 2:15, I sat on the stairs outside at the front of the school, where I always met my mom when she’d pick me up. At least two dozen of cars have past by now but none were my mom. I glanced down at my screen to check the time, and it was already going on 2:45 pm. I still had some faith she was coming to pick me up, maybe she just lost track of time. But now, it’s 3 o'clock and she’s not here. I knew the reality of the situation and I had to face it; she’s in bed, probably sleeping and she forgot about me, again. Is she okay? How can you forgot to pick up your own child from school? I often tried to fathom this thought, but I could never figure it out myself. What if one day her world literally came crashing down? When she’s finally had enough of feeling like this? What will she do? It was a scary thought sometimes because I knew that at there’s possibility something bad would happen, but I never truly thought it’d be in my family.
But it is. And reality hit, hard.
I was in 8th grade at the time, just a normal day at school. The bell rang to be dismissed and I waited in the front parking lot, like I always do. I scoped out the parking lot and amongst all the Ford trucks and Minivans, my moms car was no where in sight. Instead, a black Malibu turns around the corner, quickly coming to realize that it’s my moms good friend Peggy picking me up. I wonder what it is this time, I couldn’t help but to think that to myself. I didn’t know what to expect but my assumption was that whatever it was, it wouldn’t be good. We’re turning right onto Dixie Highway, only a few miles away from my moms apartment. You could feel the awkwardness.
“Where’s my mom?”
“She’s at home, but just to let you know she’s have a difficult time today. She wanted me to pick you up. Make sure you giver her a hug when you get home.”
So I did. But she wasn’t just having a ‘difficult time’. She broke down, to a billion pieces that couldn't be put back together.
“I need to get some help Sarah. I think you should stay at dads house for a little while. Just for now. You don’t need to see me like this.”
But the truth was, I’ve already seen her like this plenty of times before, the only difference is she realizes she needs some help.
“It’s okay, I’ll stay with you. I don’t want you to be alone. I love you and it’ll be okay. “
I knew I had to be here, no matter what she could say it couldn't convince me to leave her, when the last thing she needs is to be alone.
My mom finally got out of bed and threw some sweatpants and a t-shirt on. I sat in the dining room, unsure of what to think. I felt numb. She headed towards the key hook and I knew now that it was time to go. I knew now, it was serious. We headed down the narrow road with the gray clouds above, only adding to the negative vibe that surrounded me. As we drove further down M-59, the silence in the car was a painful silence. It wasn’t that I didn’t know what to say, but I didn’t know how to help. We pulled into common ground in Pontiac, where she was able to go seek guidance from a professional that could maybe help her understand her feelings and how to deal with them in a healthy manner.  We walked into a small office building with sectioned off rooms, on the right hand side was the counseling room, it also happened to be open 24/7. It was the type of place for people who need serious help; drug addicts, people with mental illnesses, recovering addicts and people who’re suicidal. I guess that’s where my mom belonged, it doesn’t really bother me but when I know some of my friends from school claim to go home to this ‘perfect’ family, that don’t have these kind of issues going on in their life...I feel a bit envious.
While my mom signed in and wrote down her information, I sat in the waiting lobby. God only knows how long I’ll have to sit in this cramped , uncomfortable room with strangers who I don’t know or what their intentions are. Most the people here were alot like my mom you could say, so I don’t want to misjudge anyone, especially without having knowledge about what they may be going through. All I could hope for was that my mom will get the kind of help she needs. I want to see her do better for herself and our family. I sat there quiet and patiently, an hour went by now and as a older man was called to the counter with a sad expression on his face to go to the back room, seconds after that my mom came through the door. The same blank look on her face. I wasn’t sure what to expect.
‘“Thank you for coming with me, I know sitting here by yourself was pretty boring but I appreciate you coming along with me.”
She kept talking as we made our way down to the car, I just wanted to hear that she got some help.
“Starting next week I will be going to TTI in Lake Orion for weekly group meet with other people who struggle with the same issues I do. I’ll also have my own case manager and therapist to speak to every Thursday and they're going to put me on new medication for depression and anxiety. From that point on, we’ll evaluate if the treatment at TTI is helping me out.”
Those words opened a new spot in my heart.
“I’m so happy for you Mom, I know this is hard for you but you’re doing what you need to do and you’ll get the help you need. I love you no matter what.”
Although, it was a rough day for the both of us, I was so proud of my mom for recognizing that she had a problem that needed to be addressed. I knew it was hard for her. From this moment on, I just hope my mom will continue to get the help she needs so she can have a better life for the both of us, so she can wake up in the morning and actually want to get out of bed and when she receives good news, I want her to enjoy the good aspects of life instead of always being knocked down. I’ve always tried my best to keep my head up for her and be as positive as I can to provide the support she needs. As time went on and I matured more, I began to realize that my mom will always suffer from depression but that doesn’t mean we can’t be happy. We’ve gotten through the worse times to get to the best, and that’s what we’ll continue to do whatever path this journeys might take us down.