“Who is this again? You\u2019re a friend of my mom\u2019s?\u201d I didn\u2019t know the woman on the other end of the line and couldn\u2019t make sense of what she was saying.<\/p>\n
\u201cYour mother is not doing well,\u201d she said. \u201cHer husband moved out and she\u2019s in bad shape. She\u2019s not eating. Not sleeping.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cBut I was just there a month ago, in June,\u201d I said. \u201cThey were doing fine.\u201d Mom was 72 and had married a year earlier, after a long time being single. I was glad that she would have a loving companion in her golden years. What happened?<\/p>\n
Mom\u2019s friend didn\u2019t know the details. \u201cLook, she needs someone to be with her,\u201d she said. \u201cHere, why don\u2019t you talk to her?\u201d<\/p>\n
There was soft breathing on the other end, but no one spoke. \u201cMom?\u201d<\/p>\n
READ MORE: FAITH AND PRAYER HELPED HER OVERCOME DEPRESSION<\/strong><\/em><\/a><\/p>\n Her voice was so faint I had to strain to hear. \u201cI made a mistake.\u201d That was all I could get out of her.<\/p>\n \u201cEverything\u2019s going to be okay,\u201d I said. \u201cI\u2019ll call Shelley. She\u2019ll come stay with you for a few days.\u201d My older sister would be moving to Germany with her husband soon, but for now she was still in Seattle, closer to our mom\u2019s cabin in eastern Washington than I was in Los Angeles.<\/p>\n I hung up, bewildered. What was the matter with Mom? She didn\u2019t sound like her bubbly self at all. She was the one who cheered me up when I was laid off or went through a breakup, reassuring me that I would bounce back. \u201cNever forget that God loves you, Marni,\u201d she would tell me. \u201cHe\u2019ll see you through this.\u201d I wished my faith were as strong as hers.<\/p>\n Mom will be fine, <\/em>I thought. Probably just needs some TLC.<\/em><\/p>\n She didn\u2019t get any better the week my sister was there. Shelley had her move to deal with, so we decided it was best to have Mom come and live with me for a while. The change of scenery would do her good. And she loved animals. She\u2019d get a kick out of my sassy Chihuahuas, Taco and Tinker.<\/p>\n I made the spare bedroom in my rental house cozy and in late July I got Mom settled in. Or tried to, anyway. But I couldn\u2019t seem to rouse her out of the strange torpor that had taken her over. She wouldn\u2019t say more than a few words in response to my attempts at conversation.<\/p>\n She\u2019d been a home-ec teacher and I thought I could get her to cook\u2014or better yet, bake\u2014with me, but she showed no interest in the kitchen and barely touched the food I made for her. She didn\u2019t want to go for walks with me and the dogs; in fact, she didn\u2019t take much notice of them.<\/p>\n She spent most of her time sitting on the couch, staring into space. Yet at night, she was restless, pacing the house when she should have been sleeping.<\/p>\n I didn\u2019t like leaving her while I went to work. But I had just started a new job as a marketing writer\u2014which, despite the high pressure and long hours, I knew I was lucky to have in a recession\u2014and I couldn\u2019t take time off yet.<\/p>\n I checked on Mom regularly, calling her on my lunch break and during my commute. In the evening I\u2019d get home to find her in the same spot on the couch as when I\u2019d left in the morning, as if she hadn\u2019t moved all day. It didn\u2019t seem to matter whether I was home or not.<\/span><\/p>\n Mom needed professional help. I took her to a psychiatrist. He diagnosed her with major depression, likely triggered by the emotional trauma of her husband\u2019s rejection.<\/p>\n Depression? I\u2019d thought it was more of a midlife thing, but the psychiatrist said the symptoms matched Mom\u2019s: low mood and energy, lack of appetite, loss of interest in activities, insomnia, feelings of worthlessness.<\/p>\n \u201cDepression can be debilitating,\u201d he told me. \u201cI\u2019m prescribing an antidepressant, but your mother\u2019s not going to get better overnight. It will take time. Six to twelve weeks for the medication to have its full effect.\u201d He said I should give her the pills myself and keep them someplace where she couldn\u2019t find them. \u201cYou don\u2019t want her to skip a dose or, worse, overdose,\u201d he warned me.<\/p>\n I followed the doctor\u2019s orders and made sure Mom took her medication every day, then carefully tucked the bottle of pills away. I called her from work every chance I got. Sometimes I only had time to say, \u201cI love you, Mom,\u201d but I thought she needed to hear that as much as she needed medication.<\/p>\n READ MORE: WILLIAM STYRON ON DEPRESSION<\/strong><\/em><\/a><\/p>\n I recorded uplifting TV shows for us to watch together. I\u2019d sit on the couch next to her, watching her and hoping for some change in her expression. Even America\u2019s Funniest Home Videos <\/em>didn\u2019t get so much as a flicker of a smile out of her. Which broke my heart, because my mom was known for her laugh\u2014gentle, melodic, like a wind chime tinkling in the breeze.<\/p>\n I longed to hear her laughter again, to feel the lightness it always brought me, and even more, to have her feel that lightness of being again.<\/p>\n I tried not to give in to worry and impatience when I didn\u2019t notice any improvement in her symptoms. It\u2019s only been a couple of weeks, <\/em>I told myself. The medication needs time to work.<\/em><\/p>\n Then one evening at the end of August, I came home from work to find my mother lying on the floor, unconscious. She\u2019d found the pills and taken the entire bottle. Mom was rushed to the hospital. I stationed myself at her bedside. Her hand felt so small and fragile in mine. How could I have left her alone?<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m sorry I wasn\u2019t there for you, Mom,\u201d I said. \u201cIt won\u2019t happen again, I promise. Just come back to me, please.\u201d<\/p>\n She regained consciousness and was put on a new medication. After five days, she was released to my care and enrolled in an outpatient mental-health program in my neighborhood. Even though she would be there four days a week, I knew what I had to do. I couldn\u2019t work full-time and <\/em>take care of Mom. I quit my job.<\/p>\n My friends thought I was being rash. \u201cHow are you going to pay your bills? How are you going to keep a roof over your head?\u201d I didn\u2019t have a plan. I figured I would use my credit cards, take money out of my retirement account if necessary. All I knew was that I had to do more for Mom. A lot more. She needed me!<\/p>\n Mom\u2019s weight was down to 89 pounds. The only way I could get her to eat was to eat with her. She liked Mexican food, so I made chicken enchiladas smothered in cheese. \u201cA bite for you,\u201d I\u2019d coax, \u201ca bite for me.\u201d I bought tubs of coffee ice cream, her favorite flavor, and we\u2019d share them in front of the TV.<\/p>\n We watched a lot of TV. Hallmark movies, Dancing With the Stars. <\/em>The new medication worked better, but Mom still wasn\u2019t sleeping well. I stayed up with her, snuggling next to her on the couch to keep her company. Sometimes I dozed off, but I wanted to show her that she wasn\u2019t alone, that I would be there for her, no matter what.<\/p>\n Mornings, Monday through Thursday, a care van would pick her up and take her to her therapy program. Going to school, I called it. Mom couldn\u2019t stand it.<\/p>\n \u201cI don\u2019t want to go,\u201d she\u2019d say. \u201cThose other people, they\u2019re so negative.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhat do <\/em>you want to do?\u201d I\u2019d ask, hoping there was some activity that would lift her out of her funk.<\/p>\n The only thing she said was, \u201cI want to be with you.\u201d<\/p>\n All the more reason that I had to devote myself to Mom\u2019s care. She\u2019d devoted herself to raising me. This was my way of giving back. I stopped going out with friends. I didn\u2019t date. I even quit volunteering with a community group teaching teen girls creative writing. Mom\u2019s health had to come first.<\/p>\n As the months passed, her physical health gradually improved. She was eating again and gained weight. So did I, since I was eating right along with her. She started sleeping better. Yet emotionally, spiritually, she was still adrift, as if she\u2019d lost not just her sense of self-worth, but also the faith that had anchored her all her life.<\/p>\n I tried to get her to read the Bible, or even some of my touchy-feely devotional books. She just shook her head. \u201cGod must be angry with me,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n READ MORE: ON DEALING WITH DEPRESSION<\/strong><\/em><\/a><\/p>\n \u201cHe\u2019s not angry,\u201d I said. \u201cIt\u2019s like you always told me: God loves you. He\u2019ll see you through this.\u201d<\/p>\n Mom wasn\u2019t persuaded. If I couldn\u2019t assure her that God loved her, at least I could tell her how much I loved her, make her feel wanted and needed. I reminded her what a great cook and baker she was. \u201cThere are people who could use your skills,\u201d I told her. \u201cYou can help them, like I helped girls with writing. And I might be in my forties, but I still need you to be my mom.\u201d<\/p>\n I couldn\u2019t understand why nothing I said, nothing I did, nothing I thought of, seemed to make a difference. Didn\u2019t Mom want to get better? Meanwhile I\u2019d maxed out my credit cards and been forced to dip into my retirement savings. The stress and frustration got to me. Except for walking Tinker and Taco and buying groceries, I hardly left the house.<\/p>\n After the care van took Mom to \u201cschool,\u201d I\u2019d sink onto the couch. I\u2019d spend the hours she was at her therapy program napping, snacking or zoning out in front of the TV.<\/p>\n One day I was sitting there, clicking the remote with one hand and eating ice cream with the other. A spoonful fell on my pants. I halfheartedly wiped at the stain when it hit me. Here it was the middle of the afternoon, and I was still in my pajamas. Lazing on the couch stuffing my face, no less. How pathetic!<\/p>\n What kind of worthless excuse for a human being was I? Worthless. <\/em>If this was how I felt, how much worse must it be for my mom? Suddenly I understood why she was so listless, why I\u2019d find her in the same spot morning and evening. It wasn\u2019t that she didn\u2019t want to get moving and get better. She wasn\u2019t able to.<\/p>\n Just like she wasn\u2019t able to connect with God anymore. I sat up straight, energized. If Mom couldn\u2019t pray, I\u2019d pray for her, however clumsily. God, maybe I\u2019m so burned out right now I can\u2019t help Mom, but I know you can. Help her heal. Help her feel loved again.<\/em><\/p>\n Even though I didn\u2019t see a change in Mom, I kept praying. And I felt a change in myself. An acceptance of things as they were, not frustration and helplessness that they weren\u2019t where I wanted them to be.<\/p>\n One night in December, Mom and I were up late as usual, sitting together watching America\u2019s Funniest Home Videos. <\/em>The episode was all about animals. I was half asleep when I heard a sound that didn\u2019t come from the TV. A melodic tinkling.<\/p>\n Like Mom was…laughing?<\/p>\n I glanced over. Her mouth was turned up the tiniest bit at the corners. \u201cHa!\u201d she said again.<\/p>\n I\u2019d never heard anything sweeter.<\/p>\n \u201cThat\u2019s pretty funny, huh, Mom?\u201d I said.<\/p>\n She nodded. \u201cI haven\u2019t laughed in a long time.\u201d<\/p>\n I knew then that Mom had turned a corner. The psychiatrist had said recovering from depression would take time. I just didn\u2019t realize it would happen in God\u2019s time, not ours.<\/p>\n After that, I saw my mother healing a little more every day, rediscovering herself, her faith. Almost five years after she came to live with me, Mom and I are still roommates. Happy roommates. We go for long walks with Taco and Tinker. We cook together\u2014healthier dishes than I was making on my own.<\/p>\n I went back to volunteering with the creative-writing group, and Mom has joined me. She\u2019s putting her home-ec skills to good use baking cupcakes and cookies for the girls who come to the workshops.<\/p>\n As much as I love caring for my mom and being with her, I\u2019ve learned to make time for myself too. I found a job as an online editor, so I work from home while she\u2019s at her therapy program. I go out with friends, and I started dating a great guy. One of the things we bonded over was being caregivers for our mothers.<\/span><\/p>\n Not long ago, I asked Mom what she\u2019d like to tell other people who are struggling with depression.<\/p>\n \u201cThat this too shall pass,\u201d she said. \u201cThat time and love heal.\u201d She looked at me and smiled. \u201cI know that I am loved and cared for, and I am so grateful for that.\u201d<\/p>\n I put my arm around her and held her close. \u201cMe too, Mom. Me too.\u201d<\/p>\n Read our tips<\/a> for taking care of yourself as you care for a loved one.<\/em><\/p>\n