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minds) a bit more at ease.<h2 id="b1d4">Conversation guidelines:</h2>It was important for me to explain right from the outset that my condition was NOT their fault. I worried that they might blame themselves for being the source of my unhappiness and it was crucial that they knew that my illness was just that. An illness. Not brought on by them. Just an unfortunate health issue that millions of people dealt with.I assured them that I was seeing a very knowledgeable doctor who was working their hardest to make me feel better.I relayed the message repeatedly that a brain illness is comparable to a condition one might have in any other part of their body. A heart can get sick, a kidney might get sick, an arm could get broken, and a brain is another body part just like the above that sometimes gets sick too.I attempted to keep my tone as light and as positive as possible. An ominous tone, I feared, could increase the anxiety the discussion might already have been evoking in them.I encouraged my kids to ask questions and was honest if I didn’t have all the answers. I let them know that we could work together to find out the answers for anything about which I was unaware.I ensured that the discussion was two-way to make certain that my kids actually understood what I had told them.I also made it clear that I would be available anytime to answer any questions they might have.I let them know that I understood that they might be scared but that the more they knew, the less scary it would be.And the crucial part of the whole conversation? I knew that I couldn’t lie. If my kids discovered at any point that I had purposely, or by omission, given them false information, I knew that their trust in me would be eroded.How I discussed my condition:As I have kids of varying ages, I found it helpful to relay information in an age-appropriate way.For my youngest child, I told her that there is a <a href="https://www.teensfindinghope.org/facts-for-parents.html">river in the middle of my brain.</a>On one side of the river there are balls called serotonin that make me happy.Those balls can only make me happy if they bounce across the river and land in nets (serotonin receptors).When my brain gets sick it’s because there are walls that grow up in the river that won’t let the happy balls across.It’s not exactly how scientists would explain it, but the description is quite accurate of what is happening in one’s brain when it is depressed.<p

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id="f3ba">With my older children, I knew that the odds were quite good that they had probably heard some information about mental illness. And, unfortunately, some misinformation.It was important to me to explain the facts about what I was experiencing in the most straightforward way. I let them know that because my brain was going through a rough period, I was having trouble with eating, sleeping, having energy to do much, and that my mood was low.I gave the river-type explanation as per above but used basic medical terms.I assured them that I was under the care of doctors who were working hard to get me well and that sometimes my road to recovery would be smooth, but that sometimes I might relapse.In my case, it took 19 years before I was diagnosed with Bipolar 2 and the reasons for my severe depression dips finally made sense.Because I would have somewhat frequent dips, I was able to tell my kids with certainty that my depression would release its grip on me soon and that I’d be back to my healthy, productive self. I used examples of things that I had done between my dips to show them that most of the time, I was completely well.Heck, I ran three half marathons and multiple shorter races during those years!<h2 id="4d7f">Benefits of telling them</h2>The decision to tell my kids about my mental health struggles proved to yield far more positive results than my initial need to explain to them why I had been acting the way I had.It turned out that one of my kids was very aware that something was not right with me and had been worried that I had cancer. Putting those fears to rest was worth every single second of the discussion.Additional benefits?<ul><li>Our initial discussion and further conversations have reduced stigmas my kids might have felt surrounding mental illness</li><li>My kids have been beautifully empathetic with others they have come across with mental health struggles</li><li>They are fully aware that if they themselves have mental health issues at any point, they can talk about them openly with me</li></ul>The decision to tell my kids about my mental health issues was ultimately one I am so glad I made.Not living with a secret that was wreaking havoc with my already frazzled mind definitely lightened the level of my exhaustion.Now that I have a diagnosis and a treatment plan which has saved me from depressive dips, I count myself extremely lucky. And I count myself lucky for having had the chance to raise kids with powerful knowledge about mental health illnesses.</article></body>

I’m No Longer Living With A Secret Wreaking Havoc On My Mind

Speaking to my kids about my mental health struggles yielded far greater results than I had anticipated

It took many years of ups and downs before I opened up with my kids about my mental health struggles.

Was I afraid of the stigma that has been attached to mental illness? That they might treat me differently? That they would worry about me?

I’m not entirely sure which, if not all, of the above made me hesitate but when I knew I could no longer keep my illness secret, I revealed all. In the approximately 10 years since, I’ve never regretted the decision.

Why I finally chose to tell my kids

When I could no longer hide the evidence of my tear stained face, when I couldn’t come up with new stories about why friends were coming by the house to help with meals and to shuffle the three of them around to their various activities, and when I could no longer invent reasons about why I was napping in the middle of the day, I knew it was time to let them know.

My depressive states would occur approximately every 18 to 24 months and would knock me out for a couple of months at a time. I would have trouble eating, sleeping, getting out of bed, and being interested in much besides my family.

This merry-go-round off of which I desperately wanted to dismount was exhausting to hide from my kids, but I managed to do so for almost 12 years.

I truly didn’t want to scare them, but I knew the time had come to tell them the truth.

How and what I told them

Setting the scene:

I decided to tell my kids one at a time so that they could ask questions without interruptions from their siblings.

In order to ensure their full attention, I found a time when we wouldn’t be disturbed. I also ensured that there were no screens or other distractions in the room.

Having my husband with me to fill in any points I might have missed and to show the kids that everyone was on board to support me put my mind (and hopefully my kids’ minds) a bit more at ease.

Conversation guidelines:

It was important for me to explain right from the outset that my condition was NOT their fault. I worried that they might blame themselves for being the source of my unhappiness and it was crucial that they knew that my illness was just that. An illness. Not brought on by them. Just an unfortunate health issue that millions of people dealt with.

I assured them that I was seeing a very knowledgeable doctor who was working their hardest to make me feel better.

I relayed the message repeatedly that a brain illness is comparable to a condition one might have in any other part of their body. A heart can get sick, a kidney might get sick, an arm could get broken, and a brain is another body part just like the above that sometimes gets sick too.

I attempted to keep my tone as light and as positive as possible. An ominous tone, I feared, could increase the anxiety the discussion might already have been evoking in them.

I encouraged my kids to ask questions and was honest if I didn’t have all the answers. I let them know that we could work together to find out the answers for anything about which I was unaware.

I ensured that the discussion was two-way to make certain that my kids actually understood what I had told them.

I also made it clear that I would be available anytime to answer any questions they might have.

I let them know that I understood that they might be scared but that the more they knew, the less scary it would be.

And the crucial part of the whole conversation? I knew that I couldn’t lie. If my kids discovered at any point that I had purposely, or by omission, given them false information, I knew that their trust in me would be eroded.

How I discussed my condition:

As I have kids of varying ages, I found it helpful to relay information in an age-appropriate way.

For my youngest child, I told her that there is a river in the middle of my brain.

On one side of the river there are balls called serotonin that make me happy.

Those balls can only make me happy if they bounce across the river and land in nets (serotonin receptors).

When my brain gets sick it’s because there are walls that grow up in the river that won’t let the happy balls across.

It’s not exactly how scientists would explain it, but the description is quite accurate of what is happening in one’s brain when it is depressed.

With my older children, I knew that the odds were quite good that they had probably heard some information about mental illness. And, unfortunately, some misinformation.

It was important to me to explain the facts about what I was experiencing in the most straightforward way. I let them know that because my brain was going through a rough period, I was having trouble with eating, sleeping, having energy to do much, and that my mood was low.

I gave the river-type explanation as per above but used basic medical terms.

I assured them that I was under the care of doctors who were working hard to get me well and that sometimes my road to recovery would be smooth, but that sometimes I might relapse.

In my case, it took 19 years before I was diagnosed with Bipolar 2 and the reasons for my severe depression dips finally made sense.

Because I would have somewhat frequent dips, I was able to tell my kids with certainty that my depression would release its grip on me soon and that I’d be back to my healthy, productive self. I used examples of things that I had done between my dips to show them that most of the time, I was completely well.

Heck, I ran three half marathons and multiple shorter races during those years!

Benefits of telling them

The decision to tell my kids about my mental health struggles proved to yield far more positive results than my initial need to explain to them why I had been acting the way I had.

It turned out that one of my kids was very aware that something was not right with me and had been worried that I had cancer. Putting those fears to rest was worth every single second of the discussion.

Additional benefits?

Our initial discussion and further conversations have reduced stigmas my kids might have felt surrounding mental illness
My kids have been beautifully empathetic with others they have come across with mental health struggles
They are fully aware that if they themselves have mental health issues at any point, they can talk about them openly with me

The decision to tell my kids about my mental health issues was ultimately one I am so glad I made.

Not living with a secret that was wreaking havoc with my already frazzled mind definitely lightened the level of my exhaustion.

Now that I have a diagnosis and a treatment plan which has saved me from depressive dips, I count myself extremely lucky. And I count myself lucky for having had the chance to raise kids with powerful knowledge about mental health illnesses.