Being a mom is hard. Being a mom with a mental illness is definitely hard. 

Some struggle between, though they don’t act upon (even though there are some moms that do, but they are completely broken from their reality), killing their children or killing themselves…on any given day. Struggling with whether they should stay in bed locked in their room or actually save face and try to “deal” with what is in front of us. Trying to strive for perfection in front of the world, while only appearing broken to yourself (and maybe those that are the closest to you).

We hope for a day of relief, but for most, it will never come. We can’t discuss our “broken-ness” to anyone that will judge us harshly. We turn to medications that turn us into potential zombies (or recreational drugs for the truly brazen). We got to therapies that maybe work or not (depending) in hopes to have some kind of understanding. And then there are those that find comfort in the arms of another (which I am completely guilty of) just to have a closeness and get them out of their minds and situations for just that fleeting moment.

Do you hide in a secluded spot in the house to cry so they don’t see how mentally broken (or however Mommy deals with her mental issues) you are? Do you stare at them as they live blissfully unaware of what is really happening? Do you watch everything crumble around you (i.e. housework not getting done, arguing with your spouse continuously over trivial things, etc.)? Do they question why you look sad sometimes or why you do certain things that seem “off”?

The thought of sharing how you really think about motherhood seems so wrong to others because it’s supposed to be “perfect and joyful.” For most it is a choice, and it is this “perfect” experience that will go down in their history books as amazing. But as soon as you say something, as I have said here, you are shamed. Well, guess what?! I’ve said it. I have schizoaffective disorder; I am a mom; and motherhood is the most difficult thing in the world for me!!!

I hate motherhood, but I love my children. I wouldn’t give them up, harm them, or trade them for the world; but I can honestly say that I never asked for this life because I knew I wasn’t mentally capable of handling any of what it had to offer. But it was thrust upon me me, and I took on the role without hesitation. They make my voices unbelievably unbearable and unnatural. They make my depression plummet. They stress me out to the maximum. They are my world though.

All moms are amazing for what they go through or don’t go through. Whether their children are angels or tiny heathens. No matter what you are going through as a mom, you are supported (at least by this [also] troubled mama)! You are not wrong in your thoughts, but if you are thinking about harming yourself or [most definitely] your children, I implore you, PLEASE! talk to someone immediately.

[There are a lot of thoughts missing from this post, but I will make a later post. Thank you for reading. ♡]

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