I know it's been awhile, but I was feeling the need to write this evening, and since you have proved to be a receptive audience, I figured why not start here. So, time for the big, scary, I can't believe I'm going to admit this, statement: I have recently been diagnosed with major depression. Now, you may be thinking, wow that's such a personal thing, why is she sharing that here, for any random person to read? Well, the honest truth, because I feel that you can't overcome your demons by fighting them in the shadows. You need to bare your demons for all the light to shine on and expose their weaknesses. So that's what I'm doing: baring my issues so that I can fight them, and also, hopefully, giving hope to others that others struggle with them.
So, what is major depression? Per WebMD:
Most people feel sad or low at some point in their lives. But clinical depression is marked by a depressed mood most of the day, sometimes particularly in the morning, and a loss of interest in normal activities and relationships -- symptoms that are present every day for at least 2 weeks. In addition, according to the DSM-5 -- a manual used to diagnose mental health conditions -- you may have other symptoms with major depression. Those symptoms might include:
- Fatigue or loss of energy almost every day
- Feelings of worthlessness or guilt almost every day
- Impaired concentration, indecisiveness
- Insomnia or hypersomnia (excessive sleeping) almost every day
- Markedly diminished interest or pleasure in almost all activities nearly every day (called anhedonia, this symptom can be indicated by reports from significant others)
- Restlessness or feeling slowed down
- Recurring thoughts of death or suicide
- Significant weight loss or gain (a change of more than 5% of body weight in a month)
So, that's the nitty-gritty of it. I live in a cyclical state of depression. So, what that means is that I have about a two week period where I feel like I am floating along, just along the surface, never able to break through into happiness. In the words of Sabrina Benaim, a young poet that wrote a moving piece on explaining her depression to her mother, "I am sleepwalking on an ocean of happiness that I cannot baptize myself in." Now, within those two weeks, somewhere, I have what I call the "bad days". Those are the days that I can hardly get out of bed. Those are the days that I can hardly drive myself to work without having a breakdown on the way there about how worthless I am. Those are the days that I can hardly bring myself to take my pup out for a walk after work. Those are the days that I can hardly bring myself to eat anything. Those are the days that I can hardly talk because I am always one conversation away from breaking down. Then, after my two-three days of bad days, I go back to the surface bobbing regular depression, for the remaining two weeks. Once those two weeks or so are up, I may have a good day or two, but then it all starts again, and I go back to the surface bobbing, only to eventually be caught back up in a bad day, and the cycle goes on.
This is my reality. It is my reality that I can no longer fall asleep, or stay asleep, like I used to. It is my reality that I become so disinterested in food that I make myself physically ill because of lack of sustenance. It is my reality that I become so anxious about my every move at home and work that I can hardly make a decision. It is my reality that I feel that my friends and family would be better off without me because I am so screwed up.
That, that lovely little version of hell, that is where I live. Now, if you've made it this far, words cannot express how thankful I am that you've stuck it out. I know first hand that most people, upon hearing the word 'depression', automatically go to a place of indifference. So, if you're still with me, I appreciate you! Now, onto the important part. I'm presently in therapy, and my therapist said to me today, "What if, just maybe, we think of it this way: what if you are not your depression? What if you are not the problem? What if we externalize it, and we say that the depression is the problem? Because you can be amazing, but with depression, that doesn't come out. That doesn't mean you're not still amazing, it just means that you don't show it, because you're living with this enormous weight of a problem." So, hence why I say, I am not my depression. I am not the problem. My depression is the problem. I am not having troubles sleeping, my depression is making it extraordinarily difficult to fall asleep and stay asleep. I am not unhealthy, with my lack of eating, my depression is sapping my desire for food, thereby making food unappealing. I am not an anxious person that becomes paralyzed by the simple question, "What do you want for dinner?" My depression is the one pushing all of these buttons.
Now, I am in therapy because I am working to take back control and get off of this oh so lovely hamster wheel and find a way to manage my depression. So, when my therapist said that I am not the problem, that my depression is the problem, it was an ah-ha moment. It isn't me that needs fixing, it's the depression. And that, I can do. And it's not that I have all of these individual problems, it's that I have symptoms of a much larger problem, so if we can start addressing each of those symptoms individually, it will help the overall problem to go away. It's really basic medical science when you think about it. Yet, somehow, I had never considered it before. I am not my depression. I am not a problem.
So, you may be wondering, what's the point of all of this, what are we supposed to get out of this? Well, the short answer is this: please, learn how to interact with people who suffer from depression. I interact with those closest to me, and I tell them when I'm having a bad day, and I get told to just try and be happy. "If you just try and think happier thoughts, that'll at least help." ...do you hear those crickets? I sure do. Let me let you in on a little secret, thinking happy thoughts does NOT work. Depression is about more than that. I equate it to talking to your friend about how much your leg hurts. You tell them how some days it's excruciating and some days it's just sore, but the discomfort, it's always there. How many of your friends would say, go see a doctor? Or, get that taken care of? Most of them, right? Now, when you sub that physical pain that seems tangible for a mental pain, it suddenly becomes an easy fix...think happy thoughts, go out with your friends, you're just being dramatic, everyone has those problems, etc. Since when did this become an acceptable response? And better yet, HOW is this an acceptable response?
Maybe you know the quote that says "dead people receive more flowers than the living ones because regret is stronger than gratitude." That's courtesy of Anne Frank. It's true. People will be quick to pass the buck when it comes to you talking about your depression with them, but whenever you go to a funeral of someone that committed suicide, it suddenly becomes a serious issue that people will openly discuss. I'm sorry, I don't want to have to be suicidal in order to have people there for me while I'm facing down demons no one else can see. I want support so that I don't become suicidal.
So, the point of this, don't forget to be grateful for those you love, whether they're dealing with something you understand or not. If you know someone dealing with depression, do NOT, and I mean NEVER, tell them to just get over it, or just think happy thoughts. Tell them you're there for them. Don't offer advice on how to get through it, just let them talk. See what they tell you, and maybe offer gentle guidance that aligns with the queues they're giving you about how they feel. That person that's suffering from depression, they just want help. They want to get off of the depression bandwagon, I promise you. They want an understanding shoulder to cry on. They want someone to hear their silent cries. They want support for during their darkest days, and every day in between. Just be there. Don't judge. Don't critique. Don't offer unsolicited advice. And don't act as though you understand unless you've lived with depression yourself. Using the leg pain analogy, you wouldn't want to tell your friend about how much your leg is bugging you, and then have them pretend to be a doctor, offering their "expertise". No, you want them to encourage you to go to a doctor and get help. You want them to help you and support you when it comes to those activities that you can no longer do at full capacity because your leg doesn't allow you to anymore. You want them to be understanding and empathetic.
So, last but not least. If you or a loved one are battling depression, please know, you/they are not the problem. The depression is the problem. Things will get better, but you/they can't do this alone. You/they can get through this. I believe in you; both you, if you're suffering from depression, and you that is trying to be a better friend to someone fighting depression. You can do this.
Until next time, sending love and light and all things bright,
xoxo,
xoxo,
Kayla
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