To My 'Warrior Mom' Who Helped Me Through Depression

To all moms out there who put your children’s struggles before your own, thank you. You are seen. You are appreciated. You are loved.

To my Warrior Mom, 

You have always been a force to be reckoned with. Maybe it doesn’t it always feel this way, but you are brave, beautiful strong and unbelievably loved. During the course of my treatment, my team of doctors gave you the title of “Warrior Mom” because you fought for me harder than any parent they had ever seen. You rarely let me see how weak my depression made you feel or how much it hurt you that I was hurting.

When I told you the new nickname my doctors gave you, you were flattered, but you didn’t want it. You said to me, “I don’t want to be a warrior because it means you are constantly strong. Sometimes I want to be weak and vulnerable.” Maybe thats true, but when it came to me, your child, I never saw anything other than an abundance of strength.

At first you didn’t believe I was depressed, but I don’t blame you. Who really wants to believe that there is something wrong with their child? When you were given a wake up call that I needed help, you lead the crusade and did everything in your power to get me the best treatment possible, even though I didn’t want it. You did what you knew was best for me.

It wasn’t until months later, that I saw what you were sacrificing. You told me of all the days you missed work because you were afraid to be too far away from me. And I quietly listened to the arguments you had when you finally lost control over your pain.

I heard you cry over the failures you felt as a mother. Mommy, you didn’t fail me, you saved me.

How could you have possibly failed me when helped me and supported me when it was easier for most people to walk away. And we both know a lot of people did. I lost track of how many times you laid with me as I cried myself to sleep over things that didn’t exist. You drove me to doctor’s appointments, wrote notes and arranged meetings with my teachers to speak on my behalf. And at the time, I couldn’t tell if you were the enemy or not because you forced me to face my problems instead of letting them control me. On top of all that, you told me time and time again that I wasn’t broken. I was just slightly bent. What I am most proud of you for, is using our experiences to help other families who are walking in the same shoes we once walked.

Mom, you couldn’t have prevented this pain I felt. But instead you helped give me my life back. Not everyone can handle what you did for me, but because you love me, you did it. We did it. 

I hope one day I can be half the amazing mother to my own kids, as you are to me.

If you or someone you know needs help, visit our suicide prevention resources page.

If you need support right now, call the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 1-800-273-8255 or text “START” to 741-741.

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Thinkstock photo via Kikovic

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