‘When you look at me, I know what you see. Your face says it all clearly: ‘You’re so fun! So crazy. So put together!’ What don’t you see? I am on the highest dose of Prozac a woman can take.’

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“When you look at me, I know what you see. Your face and words say it all clearly: ‘You’re so fun! So crazy. So funny/strong/smart/organized/put together!’

Go ahead. Scroll my Facebook page. I’ve got all the ‘required’ pics. Smiley, happy, spouse selfie? Check. Happy, well-behaved kids displaying equal parts good behavior and precocious curiosity? Check. Yummy meals? Successful workouts? Got ’em.

Home based business? Got it. Great job? Sharing those company posts often! Pets? Theo the cat almost needs her own page. Don’t forget the amazing cakes, birthday parties, vacations, pretty house, DIY projects, make up looks, and amazing weight loss goals – I’ve got all that too!

What don’t you see? I am currently on the highest dose of Prozac a woman can take. This hair? Shoutout to dry shampoo and Bobby pins for the win! Cereal for dinner is a weekly occurrence here. I loathe the days my daughter DOESN’T want hot lunch. I got two separate emails at work today pointing out the areas I’m failing at.  If I had one wish in life, it would be to stay in bed. For at least a month.


I regularly Google and price vacations I could take by myself. Just for a break from my life (which I am actually very happy for – even though I struggle to really share that every day). Then, I check my bank account and remember I am not a Kardashian and have a budget that doesn’t allow for such things.

I am a mom living with chronic, clinical, depression. I am a full-time employee, friend, daughter, sister, church-going, school volunteering woman who struggles to get out of bed some days. And honestly? I’m sick of it.

Why is this something we hide? Why are we ashamed of this? Why aren’t there more resources? Why do we spend so much time feeling alone and hiding our truth – when it’s so much more common than we could ever guess?


According to a 2016 study published by the National Alliance on Mental Illness, 16 million American adults (roughly 7% of our population for you number junkies) had a depressive episode within the past year.

That’s roughly 7 of every 100 people you know, struggling THIS YEAR ALONE. Look around your office, PTO meeting, church service, your gym, or merely on your Facebook feed.

Can you spot them?

Can you see their calls for help?

Or do they master blending into society while craving help so loudly on the inside that their needs and thoughts are all they hear?

I’ll give you a moment to take inventory. Though, if we know each other in real life or through social media, I bet you pegged me wrong. To quote a favorite show from my youth: ‘You think you know, but you have no idea.’

My alarm sounds at 5am. Why?  Because I know that I feel better if I get up with time to myself, a cup of coffee, time with God, and time for my yoga practice. However, most days I just hit snooze for about an hour and a half.

I would love to tell you that every day starts with a nice warm shower for me, but most days it’s layers of makeup and dry shampoo that get me looking presentable for the day.


I wake up my kids and devote every bit of energy that I have for the next hour and a half to making sure they are ready, have everything they need, and know just how much I love them before I drive them to school each morning.

I go to work each morning to a job that I have wanted for nearly a decade, and finally managed to get. Then, I think about how badly I wish I were a stay-at-home mom. I propose selling everything and living in a cabin in the woods to my husband at least once a week. No joke.

Outlook reminders, to-do lists, and calendars are my secret weapons to presenting a very put together and organized front that manages to get 90% of my job done well each week. The other 10%? Well, it’s a mix of praying that I get good luck, my coworkers cover, or that the boss understands that I am seriously doing the best I can.

My lunch hours? They rotate between therapy sessions, volunteering at my kids’ schools, and running errands to keep our family afloat. There is no time and there are no resources for a mom to take a mental vacation. That is when things start getting real.


Why is there a stigma? Why are we expected to work like we do not have children and have children like we do not work? It is literally more than anyone should take on and a serious struggle for me, personally, on a regular basis. Why do we act like this is not a problem, not a national crisis, and not something we should be addressing as a society?

I know I have a good life. I know I am fortunate. I have amazing kids, a strong husband, a deep support system, and wonderful friends, but some days are still more than my heart can handle for no obvious reason.

I am tired of living in secrecy and shame. Those things which we cannot, will not, and do not name will continue to be our scariest demons until we stand up to them and say: ‘No more.’

I am done hiding from my truth. I am done with the ‘mom game.’ I am done posting things portraying me as having everything figured out, when in reality, I am one unscheduled softball practice away from everything falling apart.

We are absolutely all doing our best. I don’t care what your Pinterest board says, you are just as messy as me. I am through hiding this any longer. I am coming clean to my kids, friends, and life that mom cannot do everything. And that’s OK. Life is a team sport. And we, as a family especially, are all in this together to make everything work.

I refuse to pass in legacy of burnout, overwhelmed feelings, and inadequacies to my daughter. I also refuse to raise a son who thinks that women are invincible. That we can do all of the professional work, all of the children work, and all of the household work on our own.

There is no shame in needing a break. There is no shame in needing help. There is no shame in not being able or wanting to do it all.

My kids come first. Always. Whether or not the baseboards have been cleaned? Not even on my radar. Did I forget to work out this week? Well, my pants still fit so I don’t care. If our profit margins go down a percent or two over a month’s time? Nothing I’m going to lose sleep over. And yes, the Domino’s pizza app has saved our favorite order. That’s how I know everyone gets their favorite from time to time.


The ages of 25 to 44? Those are the most likely ages for any woman to experience depression. Smack dab in the middle of raising kids. If that is you, like it is me, please know that you are not alone in this battle. We are in the trenches, mamas. Torn between raising babies, building amazing marriages, and forging successful long-lasting careers. No wonder we feel that we are falling short and find ourselves battling depressing thoughts.

But until we start being honest with each other and sharing our truths, this cycle will continue. Our daughters will be in the same spot that we are, which is exactly where our mothers were. But we have the opportunity today to be brave and stand up for what we need.

Asking for help is not a sign of weakness. It is the ultimate sign of strength. As Elizabeth Dehn said best, ‘You don’t have to do it all by yourself.’

So don’t. Don’t rob yourself or your family of the strongest version of you. Don’t hide the truest version of yourself to make sure everyone’s needs are met. You are more than an accessory to everyone else’s life. You are a powerful being that deserves to be seen in all your mess and beauty.

Instead, remember that it takes an entire village to raise babies, grow families, and achieve a full life. Asking for help is nothing weak; if anything, it is the ultimate sign of strength because you have looked deep within yourself and seen what you can or cannot do on your own. That is where the real power of life lies.

I am a mom, wife, sister, friend, volunteer, and employee. I live with depression, but it does not define me. I am calling it out, removing its power, and fighting to make sure future generations know that everyone has a struggle and that doesn’t make you weaker.

Please, love each other fiercely and completely. You never know what someone else is battling and how your kindness can help their fight.


If you need help, PLEASE contact one of these amazing groups:

National Suicide Prevention Lifeline
1-800-273-TALK (8255)

International Foundation for Research and Education on Depression

Depression and Bipolar Support Alliance (DBSA)

National Institute of Mental Health

American Psychiatric Association

Anxiety and Depression Association of America

This story was submitted to Love What Matters by Danielle of Michigan. You can follow her journey on Instagram and her blog. Do you have a similar experience? We’d like to hear your important journey. Submit your own story here, and be sure to subscribe to our free email newsletter for our best stories.

Read more important stories of mothers battling depression:

‘My husband left me after going into a depression. He just kept saying it was ‘his problem.’ He decided this life, our life, wasn’t for him.’

‘My child’s father was leaving me. I was a new mother to a 3-month-old baby girl. The only items I had were a bag of clothes and a computer. She didn’t deserve any of this.’

