that dreadful topic…I am all too familiar with this one. I didn’t realize that this had become a constant companion, like a dog that follows us from room to room, just no glee here. Depression was a topic my family didn’t discuss. I didn’t realize it then, but too much fear surrounded us if/when certain topics arose.
I can’t recall what I thought about depression or if I thought about it at all in childhood. What I know is this – in my late teens, depression was categorized as a negative of giant proportions. Typically, the messages I heard around me implied that it was a weakness…the individual’s fault, possibly for not being spiritual enough or not mentally or emotionally “strong” enough. I wasn’t sure what to think…
A part of the definition for depression, provided by Merriam Webster, is as follows: “A state of feeling sad or a mood disorder marked especially by sadness, inactivity, difficulty in thinking and concentration, a significant increase or decrease in appetite and time spent sleeping, feelings of dejection and hopelessness and sometimes suicidal tendencies.”
I believe depression isn’t something we pray away or trick away by just “choosing” to think different thoughts or creating diversions in our usual routine. Depression is very real and at times, painful to discuss. it.is.heavy. sigh…a one size does not fit all kind of topic. It’s disconcerting for those of us who genuinely believe we have all the answers…those of us who have nice, neat, little, color-coordinated boxes that are dusted, labelled, in alphabetical order and stacked just so…
I had all the answers at twenty (or slightly earlier!), but somewhere along the way, the tidy little stack that I thought was well-contained, got bumped (who did that?!) and then a-l-l those boxes came toppling down, crashing around me, lids flying in different directions and the contents spilling unpredictably out, far and wide. Oh dear! Oh my! What was I to do when everything no longer fit just so?
Since we didn’t talk about depression at home or in our religious circles and since the general belief of those surrounding me (at that time) was that it was simply a mind-over-matter issue…a pray-it-away or just get more active deal, I didn’t recognize the signs when it came for me. Is there a more suitable way to say that?
In my late twenties, I began hearing others speak of depression at women’s conferences; started reading articles about it and doing a little unofficial research of my own. Meaning, I searched online and asked others about their thoughts, views, feelings. Slowly, I realized that a few of the symptoms were at home with me.
Specifically, inactivity and sadness had settled in without my notice. Acknowledging the reality of depression in my own self was heavy and difficult work. I had to keep reminding myself it was alright…I was alright and that this didn’t equal being doomed. I wasn’t outside the reach of grace. I wasn’t weak.
I had to deconstruct the beliefs I was raised with, beliefs that those around me were so sure about and wanted me to accept without question. Trembling, I walked through the halls and rooms where judgment, fear, self-loathing and shame had first taken residence. I sat with the pain. I didn’t push it away or run from it.
Unhurriedly, I let myself pick up each little box that had fallen. I picked up all the contents. I revisited everything. I let the tears, disappointment, hurt and anger come to the surface.
I read countless articles and books, I journaled (made notes on my phone), I prayed, I began seeing a licensed therapist, attended conferences, retreats and an emotional boot camp.
I chose not to go to a psychiatrist. Please move forward with seeing one if that is what you need.
The path looks different for each of us. For some of us, depression is seasonal. For some of us, it has come and gone since childhood. For some of us, depression is ever-present, like a cloud above our heads, at all times. For some of us, depression is not the absence of light or color, it is merely life in the shadows. For some of us, depression is just the other side of the coin. For some of us, depression is simply unexplainable.
I believe in the power of prayer, a good book, a hot cup of tea, a comedy, natural/essential oils, positive affirmations (verses, poems, lyrics, personal truth statements), research/science, medicine, a play, a long bath surrounded by countless candles and incense, a massage, milk, dark and white chocolate, but depression can’t be reduced to just one call/option/thing or a few home remedies.
Formulaic responses cannot fit the unique circumstances and experience of every human.
I may never fully understand the mental and emotional anguish of another; I may never know what it’s like to feel a heavy weight on the daily. And that.is.alright.
We need not have shared experience to be fully present with one another…to be silent and whole-heartedly listen to each other’s stories…to empathize…to love.
As we hear/read about depression, do we see any signs in ourselves (especially since DaCovid and DeVyress moved into our ‘hood)? Do we see signs now that may have been missed in childhood…or last year? Are we ready to acknowledge the difficult things? Are there a few friends we can trust to walk with us on this journey? Are we ready to make the call for professional help? Are we ready to fully embrace grace for ourselves?
WE are strong because we cry, process and talk openly, unashamedly through all the things.
WE are brave because we keep showing up for ourselves.
WE are superheroes because we live life to the fullest (regardless)!
Common Day Hero: For letting me in your world sometimes (lol)…for unashamedly being yourself and simultaneously willing to grow and evolve into your best self, BettyBoop, my lil sis since ’92, I dedicate this post to you.
