“…and please bless mom that she can be happy.”
It breaks my heart.
I don’t want my boys to even know about depression, much less have personal experience with a loved one who suffers from it. I don’t want to miss soccer games because I’m exhausted from ECT treatments, or because I’m just too sad to leave the house. I don’t want to dread helping in their classes because of the massive effort it takes to convince myself to face a roomful of strange children.
I want to clean the house. I want to cook dinner. I want to play games. I want a smile and a laugh that appear at the slightest provocation.
I don’t want to be a depressed person. I don’t want to be a depressed mom.
It’s a simple prayer, really.
Please, God. Help me not be depressed.