Joy
There is nothing more sublime than a mother’s love.
When you become a mother, that is the love you carry within you: limitless, powerful, and filled with every warm feeling imaginable.
When I feel low, when depression creeps in, I have my tools: medication, therapy, yoga, and general healthcare. But the one remedy that helps me the most is my children’s presence.
They understand mental health. They are aware, compassionate, and incredibly supportive. They call, check on me, and have meaningful conversations with me. And the best part? When they visit.
Oh my goodness… Their presence feels like an injection of love and energy. It is, without a doubt, the best medicine I could ever receive.
Let me clarify something, though; my children have never taken on a parental role. Not at all. They are adults now, and I simply no longer hide everything from them. They are sensitive, grounded human beings who love me deeply. They know I struggle with depression and anxiety, and they also know that I take responsibility for my own care.
Their presence feels like an injection of love and energy—the best medicine I could ever receive.
But they also know this: they are the loves of my life, and one of my greatest sources of happiness.
So yes, my children are my medicine. Whether it was through the responsibility of raising and protecting them when they were young, or now, through the love and support they give as adults.
They don’t live near me anymore. In fact, they’re on the other side of the country. But we talk and text every day. If we ever miss a day, it feels… off. Like something is missing. And it’s not just me, all of us feel it.
Life may not give you children, or you may choose not to have them. But life will give you people -friends, acquaintances, even strangers- who can care for you in meaningful ways.
I’ve had countless moments with people who were clearly carrying pain. Sometimes it’s a short conversation, sometimes longer, sometimes just a hug. Often, all it takes is asking, “Is there anything I can do?” or offering a few kind words.
But here’s what I’ve learned: you must not carry their pain with you. Boundaries matter. Protect your own well-being while offering kindness.
I always keep in mind that giving is better than receiving, and the beautiful irony is that in giving, you end up receiving anyway. You bless yourself with love without even realizing it. Caring for others is like a quiet kind of magic: it touches them, and it transforms you too.
Today, a little late on my usual biweekly post, I am away from home after my children visited me this past weekend. I took the opportunity to spend a few days with two of my sisters.
And yes… my boundaries are firmly in place, not just for this visit, but because I’ve learned that boundaries are one of my greatest allies.
It’s only the second day together, and we’ve already laughed so much. Once again, I’m reminded how different we are; and yet, how similar. We each carry different memories, and as I’ve shared before, there are so many things I simply don’t remember. It is what it is.
The goal of this visit is simple: relax and enjoy each other’s company. And if conversations like politics become too much… Well, there’s always Uber as an escape plan.
What I’m really saying is this: there are people everywhere -family, friends, even strangers- who can nourish your soul, even if just for a moment. Their care and love can sustain you.
Receive it. Don’t miss the forest for the tree right in front of you.
Could I have written this three weeks ago? Probably not. I was in a space of taking life one moment at a time, focusing on caring for myself.
I’m still doing that. Still healing. Still working toward feeling like my better self again.
But I’m also learning more about health, about people, about life. And I believe that when I reach that place of balance again, it won’t just feel the same…
It will feel fuller. Richer. Happier.
And that, my friends, is everything.🌷