Often My Children Are My Guides Through the Grey Mist of Depression

I’m the fourth of five children, so by the time I got to high school, my parents could go away for a few days knowing the younger kids were supervised.

Somewhat, anyway.

I remember one weekend in about grade 13 they were away for a weekend, and when I was grabbing a doughnut during morning spare I had a realization. I hadn’t eaten since Friday night.

By this time, at 18, I was the oldest kid left in the house. I made sure my little sister ate, but didn’t bother feeding myself because, well, I get distracted and forget to eat.

My oldest is the same. If I don’t remind him, on weekends he’ll go until we’re serving dinner without food.

The big difference between us is that when I do this, I get the “hungry shakes.” I carb crash and get wobbly and sweaty. I have to eat, and sit for a bit for the crash to pass.

Kid 3 gets “hangry.” Resentful and pissed off at the world and this is the only time I see any of the teenaged boy rebelliousness other parents complain about.

Generally speaking, he’s just an all around awesome kid.

We hang out together, do stuff together, and just enjoy each other’s company.

I hope this continues. I’m working hard to ensure it continues, and with the others, too.

These last 15 years being a Dad have been the best years and greatest adventure of my life. Spending time with those boys is a huge part of living my best life.

They make me happy, and keep me sane. In fact, if it weren’t for them, I most certainly wouldn’t have made it through the grey mist of depression the last couple of times. I don’t owe them just my happiness, but my very life.

I can’t imagine it any other way.