Already, I can tell she's going to struggle with depression her whole life. In both of my kids, I've tried to create the scaffolding for good mental health. There are a lot of days where she cries for no reason. We talk about what it means to not know why you're sad, or how to make sure that if you're angry you know why. We talk about how having dreams can be frustrating, and why you sometimes need to make yourself do the things your mind is telling you don't matter. Sometimes I tell her she's being a crybaby. Sometimes I hold her while she cries about the stupidest thing. Sometimes I cry too, and I can't tell her why.
It's terrifying. I feel like I'm teaching her a dark art. Shackling demons. In a few years she'll understand that my family's chosen remedy for depression is alcohol. She'll have to try and find a way to preserve her self worth in a way I haven't. If she's lucky, she'll find someone who protects the weak parts of her, and grows the strong parts. If she's not, who knows.
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