Wow, I’ve been writing this blog for a few days and I haven’t even mentioned what it feels like to be a parent with generalized anxiety disorder. Or to co-parent with someone who has PTSD.
I was in my early twenties when I became pregnant with my oldest daughter. I wanted to have kids, so I was excited. We weren’t doing so well back then though. I was drinking alcohol a lot to suppress my anxiety (though I didn’t know that was the reason at the time). My husband was also drinking heavily due to his anxiety and depression from having Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. If you check out my “American Pride” blog you can learn more about my husband’s experience of PTSD.
I quit drinking as soon as I learned I was pregnant, which was very early on luckily. My first pregnancy was emotionally scary for me. I wasn’t sure my husband was going to be able to make the transition to being a parent with me. Later, when I was reading a great book about marriage by Terrence Real called How Can I Get Through to You?, I realized that this transition to parenthood often leads one parent to feel left behind and the other to move into parenthood alone. This book was recommended to me by my counselor, proving how smart counselors are. I was surprised that this book seemed to be about my specific marriage problems. Turns out, most of us have the same marriage issues.
So, where were we? The topic of parenting always gets me started on marriage issues and the topic of marriage always gets me started on parenting issues. This isn’t very surprising since the two are intimately connected. So, my tale of becoming a parent was off to a rough start.
We went through a lot in those early days. At the beginning of our eldest daughter’s life, my husband bottomed out. This is when he became suicidal and was even shortly hospitalized (another topic that gives me ants in my pants; trust me, I’ll come back to it in a later post). When my daughter was 6 months old I went into counseling. Since I was no longer self-medicating with alcohol, I was feeling extreme anxiety. Also, when your husband or partner wants to kill themselves, it is very anxiety provoking and depressing. What a surprise (am I coming off as cynical today?).
I’ll write about my experience finding a quality counselor. There are plenty out there that aren’t so good. But today I’ll try to stick to the subject (this is being made more difficult by my kids interrupting my writing every few sentences).
For me, being a parent with a mental health disorder means interruptions. Interruptions in my ability to be the parent I want to be. Interruptions in being able to continue on in my counseling program. Interruptions in my ability to be a good mom and a good wife at the same time. I wanted to finish my counseling program as quickly as I could; but as I studied to become a counselor I learned that doing things as quickly as I can causes me to take on more than I can handle and remain mentally healthy.
For me, being a parent has become a huge part of my identity. I’m not willing to pretend that I don’t have an impact on the lives of my kids. My dad has told me that kids just kind of turn out how they turn out. I don’t buy it and research backs me up. If you want to learn more about parenting styles and how these affect children follow the link.
I want to instill resiliency in my children. Everyone goes through rough times. Some of us go through what feels like hell. Resiliency is what allows us to make changes in our lives and keep trying. In my opinion, if we try to protect our children (which is often done through strict control) they don’t learn how to be adults. If we teach them instead to be resilient we’re teaching our children to fish rather than handing out fish we caught for them their entire lives. Follow the link to learn more about resiliency.
Well, I’m not sure how well I stayed on the topic of parenting, but I’m sure I’ll be back to it. In the mean time, let’s work towards feeling less guilt about our parenting mistakes and remember that admitting that we’re fallible give us an opportunity to learn.
Love,
Ann