But You Can’t Be Depressed, You’re a Mom

me and my youngest in January of 2012, I had PPD at the time

I didn’t know what kind of post I was going to write for Mental Health/ BPD awareness month but then I saw the news about the death of blogger Heather Armstrong appear on my newsfeed. Here’s an article about her passing: https://apnews.com/article/dooce-heather-armstrong-dead-83c8f4812bda1766301793ea3afb02cb

I want to preface this by saying that I haven’t had a suicidal ideation episode since May of 2022 and here’s the blog post about that:

Borderline Awareness Month: I Could be 1 in 10

I think the news of Heather Armstrong hit me hard because well, looking on the surface, her life seems almost idyllic. This is a rich white woman who has all of the resources at her disposal to help her get to a much healthier state with her mental health and I’m like WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED? WHAT THE FUCK WENT WRONG? While I could speculate why or how this happened, I won’t. What I will say is that nobody could possibly understand why she made that decision or how much suffering she was in. This made me reflect on my own journey with recovering from mental illness.

I have battled depression and anxiety since I was a teenager except I wasn’t formally diagnosed with it until after I had my third child in 2012. It’s been a not so well kept secret in my family that I continuously tried to mask to seem well, normal to everyone else. For years, I’ve mostly kept my depressive episodes to myself because more often than not when I’ve disclosed I’m depressed, I’m met with the comments: “You need to get over it , we have no time for this” or “Think about your kids” or “But you have SO MUCH to live for”. I know the people making those comments thought they were being helpful but all it did was drive me further into a spiral of shame for having no control over my brain chemistry and being depressed. It adds fire to the fuel of my inner critic who tells me during this episode, “let’s add being a failure as a mom to your thoughts about being a worthless and terrible human being”.

The Elephant

The sun is shining
Everything is green and bright
And yet winter feels eternal
In my heart and my mind
I feel a profound darkness that
Seems to seep and ooze everywhere
Inside of me
Is this what true loneliness feels like?
Will I ever get rid of what feels like
my forever depression?
Or do I just learn to live
with the elephant that
lives on my chest?
That I try desperately not to wake it up
Writing, exercise, friends, tv-
Everything to keep it calm
But no matter what
The elephant always seems
To wake up

In a lot of my poetry, I’ve talked about the impossible pressure I’ve had to deal with in being a mother but I don’t think I talk enough about how this was modeled for me growing up. Growing up, I saw my mother as this larger than life woman who constantly worked hard and sacrificed for her family. She worked countless hours to provide for us. She was this superwoman who at one point had 3 jobs and still managed to keep a clean house and cook dinner. I remember her sleeping a couple hours after she got home from an overnight shift at her job and waking up to walk me to school in the morning. Throughout my childhood and adolescence, I never saw my mom breakdown or cry.

me and my mami is 1988 when she was busy being superwoman

The message I received and perceived was one that in order to be a good mother, you have to be this superwoman who balances everything perfectly all the time. Being a good mother also meant being strong and resilient and if needed it was necessary to suppress emotions to continue to function. When I became a mother at 17, I had these unrealistic expectations of motherhood that I wanted to attain. And we wonder why I ended up with a diagnosis of BPD-lol. Honestly, while I’ve healed a lot from my past, I feel like it’s still necessary to share it because this isn’t just my story. It’s the story of other mothers who are still ashamed about having a mental illness and more often than not, don’t seek help and mask, mask, mask until they explode.

me with my oldest when I was 18

I’ve often talked about how my children are one of my greatest motivators for continuing to move forward with my life, to try to continue with my self improvement; but what I have failed to talk about is how my children are a major source of guilt while I’m in a major depressive episode. If I had to be honest with myself and everyone else, when I’ve been in that really dark place with my depression, I’ve had thoughts about how maybe my kids would be better off without me, how my kids deserve a better mother than me.I’m coming from a very vulnerable place talking about this. I also want to add that I haven’t been in this dark place with these thoughts since 2021. It is a fucking scary place to be in and it’s something I would never wish upon my worst enemy. Thankfully, I have always been able to pull myself out of this headspace and seek help if I need to. However, once I start to get out of this head space, guilt over how selfish I was for not thinking about kids hits me and ooof I’m off to a shame spiral that almost loops back around to another depressive episode but nowadays I’m able to get a better handle on it. In January of this year, when I had another major depressive episode, my worst thought was, “I don’t think I’m doing enough to improve the lives of me and children ” which is irrational for many reasons. Anyways, I decided then and there that I needed to go back to therapy. It was hard to make that decision but in order to prevent my depression from getting worse; it was necessary. Some part of me felt like a failure because of how many healthy coping mechanisms I have now, how much emotional support I have from family and friends, and how much therapy I’ve had; I felt like I should be able to get this on my own. However, I’d rather be safe than sorry and get the extra guidance and help I need so I can get through this depressive episode before it gets worse. It hasn’t always been this way for me. For several years, I thought that the brave thing to do was to suffer in silence and try to get through my depression on my own. Journaling consistently since 2019 has helped me get through the worst of it but looking back on those journal entries, I’m filled with grief for the version of me who thought strength and being brave meant keeping it all in. I’m filled with grief at the version of me holding it together trying to balance it all and functioning at work when inside all I wanted to do was die or disappear. However, I hold compassion for that woman because she was doing what she knew best to survive. And sure at times that looked messy and unhealthy but at the end of day what matters is that I’m still here.
Here’s a poem I wrote about my depression in 2020:

Darkness

The Darkness comes back
with a fierce strength
and takes over my mind
I want to run
I want to hide
But most of all I want to die

The Darkness comes back
like a hurricane
and wrecks my body and mind
and I don’t want to work
and I don’t want to talk
and I don’t want to breathe

The Darkness comes back
and not even the promise of love
keeps it away

Fortunately for me, I learned to work through my feelings of shame in getting the help I needed to get better. My mental health improved drastically after getting a BPD diagnosis and here’s the post about that:

A New Diagnosis: BPD

I’m very fortunate that my meds, my therapy, and the strict routine and consistency I now have in my life has improved my mental health so much, my depressive episode and low moods are milder and my quality of life has gotten so much better. I know that even in 2023,there is still so much pressure on mothers to be superwomen, to be “brave” and fight their battles alone but it doesn’t have to be this way. I hope that any mother out there struggling with depression/mental illness who might happen upon my blog post understands that they don’t have to fight this battle alone. In this journey, it is important to understand that being brave can also be taking the first step to seeking out the help you need to get healthier. I’m lucky to have found my own village ( my support system, my therapists, my writing community) to improve the quality of my life; my hope is that other mothers find their own village as well to lead healthier and happier lives.

me and my youngest in May of this year-I’m way more present in and my other sons lives after getting the help I needed

I want to end this post with a poem I wrote in February of this year:

The Finish Line

I have yet to cross the finish line of my uprising, my marathon of healing-
Sometimes I stumble and fall for a few days, a few weeks.
a month when life gets overwhelming
I dissociate and drive around aimlessly
Forget about all the progress I made-
but always get up and do the best I can
Sometimes I mask well enough to fool the people in my life
Sometimes, it’s not enough and they start asking what’s wrong
but somehow I always manage to get back to a place where
I move forward and evolve-
listen to my therapist-
healing isn’t linear-healing is messy
and just because I stumble sometimes,
it doesn’t mean I can’t cross the finish line

Below are some resources that helped me along my journey:

this was incredible helpful in explaining how unhealed trauma affected me
this book helped explain how ACE (adverse childhood experiences) are linked to different kinds of diseases

this memoir was the first that really gave me hope that I could recover from BPD
if you’re Latine/Latinx, I highly recommend this book, it validated a lot of experience as an immigrant woman and some of the racial trauma I experienced
DBT Therapy has been instrumental in my recovery

Back from the Borderline podcast episodes that have really helped me

One thing I want to add about the above resources I have shared is that I take notes from the books/podcast episodes . I jot down certain phrases, concepts, or quotes that resonate with me and/or I find helpful. I take notes on sticky notes and have a notebook where I taped them later in a notebook where I write about it as to why I related to it or why it was helpful. This method of mine works for me in finding understanding the book better or validating my experience. You don’t have to do this at all, of course. It’s just what I found helpful. Also, if you want more books or resources, feel free to contact me:

Contact Info

I also want to add other helpful resources:

Below is a link to find a therapist and other mental health professionals-

https://www.psychologytoday.com/us/therapists

it’s the national suicide hotline-idk why it says home

Poetry: The Princess and The Queen

I wrote this poem in May of 2022.

The princess and the queen live within me
And they each serve a purpose
the princess cares about the men in her life
She’s soft and submissive, kind and generous
She’ll do anything for love, she’s loyal
But sometimes the princess get taken advantage of
And the queen steps in
The queen is determined, she is strong and opinionated
And ambitchous and bossy
She’ll do anything to protect herself and her kids
and gives zero fucks about anyone else
And lately I’m trying to find a perfect balance
of embracing these two beings who live within me

Poetry: Overturning Roe vs Wade

I wrote this in May of 2022.

facts

Overturning my right to choose feels like a slap to my face
it is my american dream of liberty turned into a nightmare
of reproductive imprisonment
because of my 3 unplanned pregnancies, because of my 4 IUDs
birth control pills and a patch
because I am a woman scared for my niece, for my future granddaughters
scared for the generations of women who come after me
and I sit here at a complete loss for words and understanding
at a loss for how this could happen
a fundamental right ripped from right before our eyes
while we were distracted with the modernity of society
a fundamental right ripped from us that will take us back to the 1950’s

Poetry: Tae Kwon Do Class

I wrote this poem in June of 2022 inspired by my youngest son.

me and my youngest in April of this year

At Tae Kwon Do class my son kicks
with a determined look on his face
It’s strength and resilience inherited from me
and his ancestors
It’s a competitive spirit passed down
generation after generation
from people that had to fight to compete
to survive and it fill me with excitement and pride
because even at ten my son shows traits
from his ancestral warriors

Poetry: Fighting with My Teenage Son

I wrote this poem in October of 2022 inspired by my middle son.

me and my middle child in March of 2022

Me and my teenage son fight and I regret it the next day
I’ve watched too many people mourn their sons this year
I’ve felt the screams of those close to me
asking God why he took their babies too young
Young men who will never be fathers,
Young men who will never see their children grow up
into rebellious and sassy teens
and while I understand conflicts happens between
parent and child
I also know we’re both on borrowed time
and I don’t want our angry words
to be the last exchange between us
if its his or my last day today

Poetry: Guilt

I wrote this poem in February of this year inspired by my oldest son.

me and my oldest son in March of this year

the guilt visits me over the mother I should have been
I should have been older, wiser, married
but instead you ended up with an immature teen mom
who read you Stephen King instead of fairy tales
who played you Matchbox Twenty instead of lullabies
who wore you on my hip like a new fashion accessory
who missed the signs early on that you were different
because I was too self absorbed looking for love
but what’s done can’t be undone-
I hope one day you understand
I did the best I could with what I had

Poetry: What is Love

Happy Mother’s Day! I wrote this poem in April of last year inspired by my sons.

us in May of 2022

finding someone to love used to be a priority
until love burned me one too many times
besides I’ve always had 3 somebodies to love
that always deserved all of my attention
with them I’m never alone
with them there will always be inspiration
with them my love overflows
at this point, it would be useless for anyone to compete
with this complete kind of love

Poetry: Golden Light

Happy Asian American and Pacific Islander Month! I wrote this poem inspired by my favorite Asian American, my oldest son.

me and my oldest in 1999

I was young and so stupid
a kid having another kid
but with you I grew up
and learned the meaning of love
you’re everything a mother could want
a wonderful and amazing son
and while I’ll feel some grief
the day you’ll your spread wings
I’ll feel a special kind of pride
as I watch you shine your golden light

Poetry: My Three Kings

me and my 3 kings

Who are your favorite people to be around?

I met my first king at 17
when the nurse placed an alien like being in my arms
She was like “feed him”and I was like “how do I do that?”
What should I do with him?
Eventually I figured it out

I met my first king at 24
as a birthday present, just like me
he had to make a dramatic entrance
but it was love at first sight
No one could take him from my arms
I knew what to do

I met my third king at 30
He was a dream delivered
After a dream lost the previous year
He was planned, he was awaited, he was loved
He was welcome by everyone
with him, I felt a completion of love

Poetry: Put Together

What were your parents doing at your age?

At 41, my mother worked two jobs, raised 3 kids,
and still kept the spark in her marriage alive
I don’t know how she did it all without ever
breaking apart-
I don’t remember ever seeing her cry
but I do remember her temper, her anger
and being afraid of her sometimes

December Poetry Challenge: The Biggest Lie

This was my response to prompt #25:A thing your life has in excess

I still get mad when it rains though

I lie to myself about my lack of love
The truth is that love is everywhere to be found
My mom who calls to check in on me
My tia who sends me Buenos Días videos
My coworkers who put up with my many moods
My kids who tell me “I got you ma” when I can’t
figure out the latest household gadget
My friends who listen to me without judgment
Love is everywhere I am and it’s time for me
to radically accept it

December Poetry Challenge: My Sought Out Rainbow

This was in response to prompt #28: The person you’re always happy to see

me and my youngest son

My son is my light during my darkest of days
He’s a burst of an infectious kind of of good energy
Maybe it’s because he got the best of me
he was loved even before he was thought of
and when he was born
he was more and everything I dreamed of
he was a much sought out rainbow
after the worst of my storms