When I was in junior high school, my mom had a nervous breakdown. She was in the psych ward at the local hospital for about a week.
At the time, I was so angry with her for being so weak, when she had so many blessings in her life. I hated that it was all about her. I hated that our lives were disrupted because of her. I hated having to tell people why she was in the hospital. I hated that she blamed ME for her being the way she was.
Now, I've never been more on the brink of going through the same thing she was in my whole life. I am constantly reminded of what she put up with on a daily basis. Every single day I can hear myself thinking, "God, how did my mother do it?" I realize now how human she was an infallible, and know I was more angry that the ideal I had in my head of her was what I missed the most, that after her breakdown, she wasn't this June Cleaver mom who had it all together (or the Judy's as some call them).
My husband thinks too many people are anxious and depressed these days, and he thinks it is due to fast food. Yes, the McDonald's generation.
I think it's just due to too much all at once.
I knew life would be a roller coaster, but I feel like my straps are broken and I'm holding on with only a finger!