Kids In America 

Parenting is hard…exhausting even.  Parenting a teen with depression can be a nightmare.  Seeing your child in pain is one of the most awful things on this earth.  Watching them, knowing they’re hurting and not being able to do anything about it is a hell unlike any other.  

I try.  Dear god I try.  I listen, try to be as supportive as possible, be there for him when he needs me, and give him the tools he needs to grow.  Sometimes I don’t know if I’m doing more harm than good.  I simply give him the things I’ve been taught and hope he uses them.  

But I’m not perfect, and sometimes I can be the “just deal with it” and the “if you change this things will be better”…mind over matter mom.  I believe in these principles, they have served me well over the years, but I can’t assume that he works like me.  That we’re the same.  

Being lost is misery incarnate.  I can truly appreciate being hurt, and wanting to change but feeling as though it’s not even a remote possibility.  I understand never wanting to get out of bed.  I know that clouds that work to stop you from productivity…from a happy life.  I’ve known these demons since I was a little girl, and I’ve fought them daily.  

But being a teenager means that he doesn’t want to listen…he wants to give up and call it a day.  I can’t stand that.  It hurts me and I have no idea how to field this kind of behavior.  I’ve never parented a teen before, and there’s no book to be read that even begins to uncover the specific truth that is my boy.   

Every day is trial and error, and I fail more than I succeed.  But I’ll keep trying.  Every.  Single.  Day.  I’ll continue to try.  To be here.  To love him with everything that I am.  To support him and lift him up at all costs.  Give him room to breathe.  Help him flourish.  I keep telling him: one day at a time.  Just one day at a time.

It is easier to build strong children than to repair broken men.  -Frederick Douglas


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