“Mommy, why are you so sad?” – Talking depression with my kid.

I was really hoping Mae would never have to see me depressed.  Last week when I had my relapse she was stuck with a mom who was unable to fully engage, and barely able to leave the house.  I hate that.  So the question I had to face was, how do I explain this to her?

Every parent with mental health issues has to face this question at some point.  If you don’t say anything, they’ll be left wondering why mommy or daddy is acting so strange.  The most likely answer for a child, of course, is that it’s somehow their fault.  I never want Mae to think that she’s the reason that mummy feels so bad.  So, I talked to her.  I told her that mommy has depression and that it’s a sickness that sometimes makes me really sad, even when there’s nothing to be sad about. This seemed to make some sense to her and she was very compassionate with me.  She gave me extra cuddles and tried to get me laughing and she asked me frequently if I was happy yet.

I love seeing that empathy and caring come through, but I also worry about her taking on the responsibility of making me feel better.  It’s a very thin line.  On one hand, I want her to be compassionate and caring, and I don’t want her to feel helpless in the face of a sad mum.  On the other hand, she identifies so closely with me that I can see her taking it on too much and blaming herself if she can’t make me all better.

As I’m writing these words I’m reminded of a moment 31 years ago.  I was about a year younger than Mae is now and it was the day that my father died.  My father was a farmer and he was killed in an accident out in the field.  When they came to tell my mother she threw me on her shoulders and walked out to the field.  I remember her crying and screaming and little three-year-old me trying to comfort her.  I don’t have a lot of memories from that time, but that one is burned in my memory.  That memory has been an integral part of my understanding of myself as an empathetic and caring person. It has also been part of a bigger picture in which my mother and I have always had an incredibly close relationship.  I remember being glad that I could offer her comfort when she needed it and how much it has meant to me when she talked to me about how she was feeling. 

So, I guess I just keep talking with Mae honestly and doing my best to appreciate how she takes care of me without making it her job. 

Like so many other parenting quandaries, my answers come down to honest communication and empathy.  Most of which is achieved by a cuddle and talk on the couch.