Last year, my daughter was diagnosed with the same mental illnesses that I have. Major Depression, Generalized Anxiety Disorder (GAD) and Obsessive Compulsive Disorder (OCD.)


I’ve mentioned to a few people that I carry tremendous guilt for having “given” her these issues to contend with. They all told me that it isn’t my fault.

It’s genetics, after all. Nothing can be done about it. It’s the same as her having dimples on her knuckles like I do or having inherited my mouth. (The shape, not the potty part.)

She’s been struggling lately, the Paxil isn’t working. All she wants to do is sleep. She says that she has no motivation whatsoever to do the things that she has to do or the things that a healthy 20 year old should want to do, like hanging out with her friends.

This isn’t my daughter. Just like I am not myself when I am stuck in the fucking quicksand that is major depression. It basically sucks the life out of you and leaves you lying on the bed in the fetal position.

I hate to watch her suffer. It kills me inside just knowing that she is hurting.

She stayed home from college yesterday, which is a rare occurrence. My mom and I had to convince her a little, but she agreed easily enough.

I got on the phone bright and early yesterday, on a mission, trying to get her some help. She had made an appointment with her regular doctor online (she hates phone calls) for next week, but it was painfully obvious that she couldn’t wait that long.

The physician assistance line told me to take her to the ER to get assessed. My daughter was having none of that, she swears to me that she isn’t suicidal. I called every psych office I could find online, only to be told that there were no openings. One office even told me that they have a 5 month wait for an appointment.

Frustrated, I finally decided to call her doctor’s office and ask if there was any way that they could squeeze her in today.

They could. Hallelujah. 

Nothing beats actually talking with a real human in times of crisis. I’ll be going with her.

After I told her that I was able to get her in to the doctor sooner, she brightened up a bit and was able to go out to lunch with myself and my friend Cheryl. She put on a little lipstick. She even went out with a friend for a couple of hours.

It’s funny what a little hope can do.

My major life goal is to be the same kind of mom to my own daughter as my mother has been to me. Loving, supportive and always there no matter what.