I'm Sane Because of My Daughter

I remember laying in bed, miserable, unable to get up for my college class. This was twenty years ago, but I remember these times vividly. Because it didn’t happen once, I’d miss class after class until the fog lifted and I could roll out of bed. Reflecting on those times, I wonder how I might have handled being a parent while struggling with depressive episodes.

I was diagnosed with bipolar disorder soon after college. I had limped past the proverbial finish line only to hit madness head-on. I had no responsibilities, no student loans looming that necessitated joining the workforce. I was living with my parents after failed relationships and was not stable enough to be on my own. The idea that I might be a parent one day was ridiculous. I had even left my cats with my ex-boyfriend.

The years after my first hospitalization, which happened soon after college, involved me building my life back up. I had to take baby steps in taking on obligations. Being too ambitious was the hallmark of my mania. My sanity was like delicate eggshells I gingerly walked across.

I was finally stable.

I went to grad school and got married. We had a child. I had a stepson. We even had a cat. I had every reason to stay away from the edge of insanity.

But what I didn’t realize is that grief, trauma, and mental illness are the trifectas that make you topple over that edge. After our daughter died of SIDS, I wobbled back and forth into unreality. You could not blame me. My delusions protected me from the psychic wounds that bled so heavily back then.

I had to claw myself back up into stability slowly.

It’s like I had to build up my mental stamina. Mental health is like physical health. With your body, when you start with unhealthy habits, it’s pretty easy to spiral into bad health. Bad habits for my mind included not taking my meds regularly, isolating myself, staying up too late, etc.

In a way, being bipolar and staying mentally stable is like recovering from alcoholism. You have to take each day one at a time. Today I will be sane. You can’t say anything about tomorrow.

I’m making mental health sound like a choice, which seems unfair. But like any chronic illness, there are things you can do to exacerbate symptoms or have them flare up. Staying sane takes discipline, commitment, and consistency.

That’s where parenting comes in for helping me stay stable.

Having someone else I have to take care of me forces me to be healthy.

First, the lack of purpose is like a mental health vacuum for me. Idle hands are the Devil’s workshop. Parenting gives me one of the highest and most challenging purposes you can have.

Second of all, feeling isolated or disconnected feeds my illness. My daily interaction with my daughter primarily fulfills me. In nurturing her, I encourage myself.

Third, lack of responsibility opens my condition to flare up. I have a reason to wake up and sleep on some semblance of a regular schedule. I have someone who depends on me. This is a huge motivator to take care of myself.

Finally, parenting is healing for me. For a long time, I beat myself up for my mood swings. Even with all the self-care and medications, I’m moody. My daughter takes after me, whether in mirroring me or because of genetics. It can be frustrating and exasperating, which makes me understand my loved ones’ reactions to me. But, in loving my daughter so profoundly, I can forgive and accept my moodiness.

I know that not everyone with mental illness sees parenting this way.

They may feel like they stay sane despite that obligation or that the demands of parenting can overwhelm them.

I feel sympathy for mothers with post-partum depression.

Their motherhood is intricately linked with their mental health challenges. Parenting doesn’t impart stability. They have to wade through the darkness to be good mothers and succeed at caring for themselves.

Luckily, I didn’t have this challenge. I had ups and downs but no trigger of episodes. I don’t know if that would have been true if I wasn’t on a mood stabilizer. I know that willing myself into sanity isn’t possible.

Having a child can make mental illness worse. It isn’t a magic pill. But, for me, motherhood gives me a reason to take care of myself. Metaphorically, I put on the oxygen mask myself before my daughter. She needs me to.

Being a mother has been the best thing for my mental health. I’m not sure if, as she grows older, I won’t have flare-ups. Statistically, staying on an even keel with bipolar disorder for years on end is not too familiar. But I have a reason to pick myself up and sleep it off.

I wish I could share this all with my 20-year-old self lying in bed in the dorm room, immobilized by an episode. Ironically, those were supposed to be my carefree years where I had no burdens. But I felt the weight of the world. I want to tell myself one day; you will be stable. One day you will have a reason to be.

Parenting keeps me stable.

It makes me a dependable, considerate being with a purpose. It gets me outside myself and allows me to see my bipolar disorder as something to manage rather than something I’m afflicted with.

All that said, I wouldn’t have been a good parent at 20. I didn’t have any resources. Having a child wouldn’t have saved me and maybe even would have made my mental health worse back then. I’m not suggesting that anyone have a child so they can be mentally healthy.

But purpose, consistency, and responsibility are the cornerstones for maintaining mental health. Yes, you have to take each day one at a time. Mental health can’t be cured with discipline. But having a reason to take care of yourself is the first step to taking care of yourself.

One day I will have to discuss my mental illness with my daughter. And I’ll explain how she helped keep me stable. I’ll tell her how taking care of her made me take care of myself.

And I’ll tell her thank you.