Some days, like today, I think Griffin deserves better than what I am giving him. He deserves more. More love. More attention. More affection. More cuddles. More walks outside. He doesn’t deserve my moping and pacing and crying.

Some days the thought of taking care of him is exhausting simply because the thought of taking care of myself is exhausting. Some days I just want Patrick to do everything – feed him, change him, give him a bath. And he will do it, but it can’t go on like this forever. And then Griffin will look up at me with that sweet face of his – the one that doesn’t know the meaning of depression or anxiety – and he’ll smile and reach his arms up for me to hold him. So I do. And for a split second, all is right in the world. But then it’s gone. That wave of darkness washes over me again and I hand him off to Patrick. What am I doing to him?

This morning when I dropped Griffin off at day care, I kissed his head and whispered in his ear, “Mama’s gonna’ get better, OK?” I know he doesn’t understand me, but I just had to say it.

He deserves a good life filled with fun and laughter and experiences. I can’t take that away from him, but I can’t give him those things when I feel this way.

So I have to get better. I just have to.

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