Youth Sharing: A Daughter's Gratitude
Looking back on my mental health journey as a young adult who can now confidently say she has overcome most of her severe anxiety and depression, I have immense gratitude for my parents who have been there with me every step of the way. In Hong Kong, I don't think many people realise how being a parent to a child with a mental disorder is similar to any other parent of a child with an illness as they become a full-time caretaker and an irreplaceable rock in the child's life. Just like how when a child gets sick with any other illness, the road to recovery from a mental disorder is long-winded, tiring and full of setbacks.
I hadn't known it but my mom was my sole and long-term companion on my long mental health journey starting from middle school. From psychologist appointments to psychiatric appointments, getting medications while constantly monitoring for any side effects, sleeping with me when I had severe insomnia, and always being there to have a conversation with me. I have never met a stronger person in my life and I owe everything I have accomplished today to my mother. Not to mention my father who would always go looking for me if I stormed out of the house, or send me long motivating messages reminding me of how much he loved me, and seeing songs or reading stories to me before I slept. Albeit his already existing burdens of being the breadwinner of the family, he never hesitated to remind me of my worth especially when I had forgotten my own value in the world.
However, beyond this intense love, admiration and gratitude I have for my parents I think there will always be guilt. Guilt that I wasn't a "normal" child, guilt at the money they spent paying for my doctors, guilt at the fact that I never meant to bring them into this messy world of mental illness but they had to walk with me down this path for so long. I think to any parent or child out there I want to say that children may never stop having this guilt. Knowing that you were a sick child will never not be painful for both the parent and the child because the child always knows that they were stripped away from a "carefree" childhood and that the parent was also handed an extra burden of caring for someone.
To be honest, writing this, the wounds still hurt and the pain is still fresh, but I think that I have learned the power of love amongst everything. I have learnt that love can bring someone out of the darkest depths of sadness and hopelessness, so today and every day I choose to love my parents for everything they have done and sacrificed for.
