The Emotionally Absent Mother and Depression

For most of my life, starting in my early teens, I've suffered from depression. But, it's only recently that I connected that depression to being the daughter of an emotionally absent mother. With this new-found knowledge, I'm able to deal with my blues in a more positive, pro-active way that includes lots of exercise, meditation, healthy foods, and journal writing.

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I came to realize the big hole in my heart – the sadness that weighed me down – got created by my mother's inability to see me for who I was and to love me unconditionally. My mother wasn't interested in my emotional life as a kid. When I'd say, “I feel this way or that way,” her response was always “no, you don't.” I learned to suppress my feelings – eating to bury my emotions and becoming more and more depressed and fatter and fatter.

As an adult, I started taking anti-depressants (Lexapro and Zoloft) and that's one of my biggest regrets. Taking those anti-depressants for six long years turned me into a virtual zombie and delayed my efforts to find the cause of my overwhelming sadness. I now warn others about the disastrous side effects of these drugs.

If someone absolutely needs to take an anti-depressant, I urge them to take it only if they also do talk therapy. In talk therapy, they can work on finding healthier ways to deal with their feelings. The anti-depressants only put a Band-Aid on the hurt but, in no way, heal it. Once you get off the anti-depressants, you're back at ground zero, wondering why you're miserable. You've gained no tools for dealing with your emotions.

Today, I look back at those six years when I took anti-depressants as a huge waste of time. I resent the doctor who kept prescribing them without urging me to get counseling. We're a society that likes the quick fix of popping a pill, but dealing with depression is more complicated than that. It takes effort, time, and focus.

Once I started reading about emotionally absent mothers, I knew instantly that was my situation and I felt tremendous relief. I knew the key was to start mothering myself – giving myself the love, patience, acceptance, and guidance I never received. I developed an inner-voice (my mother voice) that showed tremendous compassion for me. She would say nurturing things. If I felt tired after a long day of teaching, she would say, “That's enough for today. You need to get in your pajamas and read a book.” If I felt tempted to eat fast food while driving in my car, she'd say, “You need to slow down. You need to take time to eat a healthy meal.”

It seemed silly and awkward to me at first, using this mother voice, but then I started to understand how valuable it was. I had never heard those kind, generous words when I was a kid – those words that said I'm valued and loved. Developing this mother voice was so much more powerful than any pill I could take and it finally gave me peace and comfort.

One of the most important steps I took when realizing I was the daughter of an emotionally absent mother was to read. I had never given myself permission to take the time to relax with a book. I thought I needed to act like a work horse – always doing something to justify my existence. I started to build a home library of books that talked about my childhood experience with a mom who didn't see me and didn't connect with me in a deep, emotional way. This book was particularly helpful because it showed me that my childhood didn't need to define my present and future. It helped me to stop wallowing in my past and to move forward in a positive way.