Shortly after her death, my siblings and I found writings from our Mom that showed she suffered from depression. We were completely unaware. She didn't confide in us; she didn't let on at all. Selfishly, I was hurt that she didn't tell us. If I (we) had known, maybe we could have helped her get through it. Maybe we could have protected her.
This morning, after reading something she wrote in 1992, I sobbed once again that she didn't let us know that she was hurting. Then, it hit me. I did the same thing to her for the majority of my life. I didn't let her know what was going on throughout one of the most horrific situations of my life. When it came to light earlier this year, I didn't understand why she was so hurt.
She didn't know about it, I argued with her. She didn't know because I didn't tell her. How could she protect me from something she had absolutely zero knowledge? She couldn't protect me.
She couldn't protect me. I couldn't protect her.
My Mom! She makes me laugh and cry to this day. I know she was with me this morning when she helped me understand why she didn't tell me about her depression. She was with me when I finally understood why she was upset about me not telling her about the horrific event. All we want to do is make sure our loved ones are okay and protect them. I get it now, Mom. Sometimes days, weeks, months or years too late. But I get it now.
If someone or something hurts you, tell someone. No matter how painful it may be. You may save your life. You may save someone else's. You may just find your heart has opened up.
Note: My Mom passed away Wednesday, May 8, 2013 from acute COPD (Chronic Obstructive Pulmonary Disease).
