The Luxury I Could Not Afford: Depression and Single Motherhood
A single mother recounts her battle with depression and post-natal grief following a friend's suicide, and how the responsibility of caring for her daughter became both her greatest burden and her anchor to survival. She reflects on the impossible choice between breaking down and pushing through, and ultimately channels her experience into founding the Young Mothers Initiative.
If raising kids as part of a dynamic duo is difficult then going solo is a job that undoubtedly requires extra support, and this couldn’t be more important for a single parent with depression.
It came over me every hour of the day but most often at night after I put my little girl to bed. It came after my computer was shut down after my work was put away, and the lights were turned out. That’s when the suffocating waves of grief and loneliness hit hardest, coming at me again and again, threatening to pull me under and drown me in my own tears.
Life had gotten hard, confusing, and scary. A friend had taken his life, and everything else spiraled downward from there. Someone I believed would always be there just disappeared. Coupled with post-natal depression, which no one ever discusses …that was a difficult time. And all of it piled on top of me like this weight I couldn’t bear to carry anymore.
If it hadn’t been for my daughter, standing before me as the waves kept threatening to pull me down, I’m honestly not sure I would have survived it. I was physically there for my kid but mentally, I was checked out. Once she was asleep, I’d lie quietly in my bed each night, whispering to myself through my tears…” I’ll do better”. And then I’d try as hard as I could to forgive myself for failing. Even if I didn’t exactly believe it, I would tell myself that I was still a good mom- that this depression wasn’t all of me.
In those moments, I had no idea exactly how I was going to make it. But allowing myself to be a human-being and believing that was okay was all I could do to keep moving forward. Not surviving wasn’t an option, though. As a single mother, I didn’t have the luxury of falling apart. I didn’t have the option of breaking. I pushed through depression for my daughter.
During the day, I had someone relying on me completely. There was no other parent waiting in the wings to take over as I worked through my grief. There was no one else to tag in if I was having a bad day.
There was just this little girl, whom I love more than anything or anyone else in this world, counting on me to keep it together. So, I did my best. Every day was a battle. I had limited energy for anyone else. But for her, I pushed every ounce of strength I had to the surface.
There were baby steps, and it was hard. In so many ways it was harder because I was a mom. Time for self-care seemed even more limited than it had been before. But there was also that voice whispering in my head, reminding me that this little girl I am so blessed to call my own was counting on me. That voice wasn’t always kind. There were moments when my face was soaked in tears and I looked in the mirror only to hear that voice say, “This isn’t strength. This isn’t the woman you want your daughter to see.” Logically, I knew that voice was wrong. I knew that even the best mothers fall apart sometimes and that it’s OK for our kids to see us struggle.
In my heart, however, I just wanted to be better. I wanted to be better for my daughter because single moms don’t have the luxury of breaking. That voice in my head was always quick to remind me how deeply I was failing in my role each time I allowed those tears to fall. But I’m not perfect. I never will be. I’ve experienced anxiety and depression. I fall apart when things get hard. Luckily, I also can pull myself out of those traps. I’ve done it before. I know that if I’m dragged under again, I’ll do it then, too.
I’ll pull myself up for my daughter—for both of us. I’ll do it for our family. Bottom line: I’m a single mom, and I don’t have the luxury of breaking.
Going public is often the first step towards healing, I think mental health is an area where people are embarrassed. They don’t want to talk about it because somehow they feel they’re a failure as a parent or in any situation they find themselves in. Mental health, in my opinion, is something that you have to talk about, do not suffer in silence, speak up & seek support. Remember that no matter what your critical inner voice may be telling you; the situation is far from hopeless. I sought support from family and close ones and people who I knew I could get genuine help to overcome the misery.
It's quite sad, depression or mental health challenge is not really seen as a major problem in most parts of Africa, it is slowly consuming mostly its youthful population. The mind is a powerful thing when it comes to overcoming our emotions; if you can change the way you think, then you can change the way you feel. I focused ALL my energy on being a better version of myself. I focused more on my job, my business, charity, raising my kid right and the things I love to do.
It’s been about two years now since I’ve been out of the misery. Yes! I survived depression and there’s no other way of creating an impact if I cannot help the next woman in the same misery. That’s what triggered the birth of YOUNG MOTHERS INITIATIVE. An initiative with the aim to inspire a society where young mothers/women/adolescent girls can have a voice to speak up and seek support and curb depression.
Angwere Miranda aka La Mirage
Humanitarian/Social Worker/Accountant - Brand Ambassador Mboko Gang Merch - Founder Young Mothers Initiative - CEO Mimi's Kloset - Ambassador for I'm Human Org
Written in March 2020, as global lockdowns began and mental health struggles—particularly among caregivers and women—intensified. In Cameroon and across much of Africa, depression and mental illness remain deeply stigmatized and under-discussed, leaving isolated parents without language or community to process their pain.
The piece refuses both martyrdom and false recovery narratives, instead naming the specific cruelty of single parenthood under mental illness: the absence of backup, the impossibility of rest, the internalized shame. Its insistence that vulnerability is not weakness, and that speaking publicly is the first step toward healing, challenged cultural silence around mental health in its moment and remains vital as African discourse on mental wellness slowly shifts. The writer's turn toward action—founding an initiative to amplify young mothers' voices—models a form of healing rooted in witness and solidarity rather than individual triumph.