My friend shared an article about a Quebec mother who killed her kids and who now wants to starve to death. I haven’t actually read the article, the headline already gut-wrenching.
My friend felt anger towards the mother, anger that she gave her kids no chance. Three young kids. Dead. No chance.
I shared how I also felt sadness for the mother; who knows what kind of mental illness she has, who knows what she was going through. Depression is a very real, and scary thing. It scares me that prescriptions for it tend to have the side effect: depression (make it worse, yay!) and death (suicide). How can they ever prescribe this stuff?!
I’ve dealt with attempting suicide, talking to counselors, being hopeless, being overwhelmed. I get how that woman is feeling. I remember feeling at those moments how I am an awful person for bringing these little angels into the world. The only difference is while these people felt that it would be better for the kids if they were dead too…I am incapable of harming my kids and that because I want them to have a better life, I must live. The thought of my kids growing up with a mother who committed suicide…that’s rough. That’s teaching them from a young age that there are emotions that they absolutely won’t be able to deal with it…that that runs in their blood.
I can’t have them thinking that. I have to give them a chance at a better life, because I know they can have it. I know it’s possible to have it, and I will at least try to give them that.
My friend was shocked that I had been depressed, ever. He thought I would be incapable 🙂 Apparently I am an overly happy person (he thought I was always just high on sugar or something!).