Tell some people

When you first realize (whether on your own or as a diagnosis from a doctor) that you are depressed, it can be both overwhelming and crushing. One of the first instincts I see people embrace is to hide this information from everyone else. There are many reasons for this (and this is hardly an exhaustive list):

• Societal stigma that being depressed equals being weak
• Feeling like a failure and not wanting to broadcast what seems like a reinforcement of that
• Not wanting to be a burden to loved ones
• Being otherwise afraid of rejection and/or ridicule, especially in such a vulnerable state

All of those make sense to me on one level or another, and they come up with such regularity that I am comfortable calling them common.

If someone you love struggles with depression, be aware that these fears are quite possibly operating under the surface, if not openly. And note that, if that person has shared their depression with you, it is no small thing.

If you are struggling with depression, know that you feeling any of these (or other) fears is not unique or even uncommon. Know also that it is immensely valuable for you to fight past them and let yourself be open and vulnerable to a small number of people who are close to you. Most depressed people I have known (including myself) believe at some point and on some level that nobody really cares about them. And for most people (again, including myself), that's simply not true, strong though the doubts may be.

In reality, most of us have at least one or two people who would join us in our struggles. They may not know how, they may not know quite what to say or how to help or be able to empathize entirely with how we feel, but they do care about us and they will do what they can. And we need that. You need that. Trust me.

So tell some people. Your best friend. A sibling. A parent. A teacher or coach or pastor. Someone who has demonstrated care for you in the past. Let them care for you in the present.

And if you're the person being told: We don't need you to fix us. We know you can't. Please just be there, with us and for us. Listen. Share something of yourself. Comfort. Distract. You'll learn how to best help as time goes on, and that's the last thing to remember, for both the depressed among us and those who love them: Depression generally lasts a while. Months or even years. This isn't a one-time conversation and then everything's OK. Telling you is not a confession, it's an invitation.   

Learn to Say No

I gave up writing here a year and a half ago, because I ran out of steam and didn't see the point. But in the past couple weeks, I've been entrusted with several stories of people's struggles with depression. Whether they're just starting out, falling back into it or continuing the plodding journey, each of them shared their pains and frustrations, and I realized there were some common themes throughout all our stories, and that it might benefit more people than just us if I went back to writing.

Today's topic is one I have found is most difficult, both to discuss and to implement. It is important for everyone to learn their limits and set healthy boundaries, and that's not usually a super easy thing to do. For someone wrestling with depression, though, it can be much worse than it would otherwise be. (I have it on good authority that much of this will also apply to those suffering from anxiety disorders, but since I don't have first-hand experience with anxiety, I have chosen to focus on what I know.)

When you feel like a failure, like you're letting people down, like you're not valuable, it seems imperative to do everything anyone asks of you, just so they'll maybe like you. When you feel like everything is out of control in your life, it often seems like you need to contribute to someone else's, just so you're making some kind of difference, so you matter somehow.

The thing is, constantly wearing yourself out and failing to get adequate sleep or nutrition are surefire ways to make your depression worse. You have to be able to take at least basic care of yourself before you can really help anyone else long-term. Otherwise you'll burn/bottom out. And even when you feel like that's what you deserve, it's not, and nobody wants it to happen!

The best first step I know is to set priorities. What are the most important things you need and want to get done? Who are the most important people you need and want to see and serve? Which habits are most necessary for your mental and physical health? This may require some painful trimming from your life for the time being. Set time for those things, people and habits and make those times relatively inviolable. Then, when something or someone else makes a demand on your time, you have an answer if it conflicts with one of those things. Over time, you can learn how and where and when to make healthy exceptions, but to start out with, it may be necessary to simply say no to pretty much anything outside those highest priorities.

The biggest lie that tends to crop up when trying to take care of myself is, "But you're not worth the care; that other thing/person is much more important, so go ahead and sacrifice your health/well-being for its/their sake." And it's a super compelling lie, especially for Christians, who know the biblical entreaty to "consider others better than yourselves." But, in truth, you can't truly and honestly consider others while you're totally falling apart. Most often, you're using serving them to try to make you feel better, rather than from any healthy motive.

Lastly, things will get better. Retreating from things, saying no more than you'd like--more than seems fair--isn't a permanent state. And it mustn't be. But when you're in the throes of a depressive episode, this is one way I have found to claw my way back to better equilibrium.

Don't buy the lies

I am not a psychic. Obviously.

But how often do I act like I am? How often do you act like you are? Isn't that essentially what we're doing when we assume we know what someone else is thinking? We all do it, I think, and it is often relationally destructive. But for someone who struggles with depression, it is also very often personally destructive. As I've said before, depression lies to you. It interprets the world not through rose-colored glasses, but through blue-tinted ones. Clearly, everyone struggles with self-doubt, with fears and concerns, with insecurities. For someone with certain mental illnesses it's a way of life, and it can be crippling.

Some of the major lies depression whispers to those in its grasp are that they are unloved (even unlovable), that they are thought ill of, that people don't care about them, or that people even wish them harm. Suicidal ideation is an extreme consequence of this line of thinking. Even the milder consequences can be catastrophic. The lies create distance, instigated by either party of a relationship, and serve to isolate that person—presumably, since you're reading this, you or someone you love—who so desperately needs companionship, intimacy, friendship.

It is critical, then, to head these lies off, as best as possible. If you have to, just keep repeating, "I am not a psychic" until it sinks in. It is also critical to have people around you who love you well, and who understand the negative tendencies of your mind, and who stand ready to encourage more accurate perceptions.

Don't try to guess what others are thinking. Depression will tell you all sorts of lies. The only real way to know what another person is thinking is to up and ask them.

Personal Update

It's been many months again since I've posted. I decided it's high time I get a little more disciplined in my writing, alternating between this blog and my other one.  Alas, school will probably get in the way of that, but it's a nice thought!

I thought my first post back should be an update on my own depression. I'll try to keep it brief and to the point. 

In February, after much resistance on my part and much insistence on the part of some friends (and due to finally having health insurance!), I went to see a doctor. I was re-diagnosed with a mood disorder, though because of the long-term nature of it, my doctor told me it's something called dysthymia. It is essentially a milder and longer-lasting form of depression, which is sometimes punctuated by major depressive episodes. Well, names are fun, and all, but I didn't feel like this was helpful information on its own.

When I went back soon after, my doctor prescribed an anti-depressant (bupropion) and the next several weeks were spent tweaking dosages. Since settling on a dose, I have noticed three major things: 

1) It is much easier to focus, be organized, be successful in school, care for others and take care of myself when I'm not having to fight just to get out of bed. 

2) My baseline mood is better. It is still fairly easy for me to drop into a depressed state, but with some coping mechanisms I've learned on my own over the years, as well as some learned through counseling, things are much better.

3) Medication isn't a cure-all. I still have bad days. Even weeks. But it's a bit easier to come out of, and combining a medication with counseling is certainly more effective than just the medication.

All that to say, if you are--or someone you care about is--exhibiting symptoms of depression, do not be afraid of seeking professional medical help, or encouraging them to do so. Drugs aren't scary. They don't mean you're weak. They mean you're sick, and they can help you feel better. Ditto for counseling. Think of it as the equivalent of physical therapy for your emotions. The biggest lie depression tells people is that they deserve to feel the way they do. Well, you don't. And there's help!

Watching what I watch

You probably know that people with depression shouldn't drink alcohol. It can make an already bad situation worse and it can really mess with the emotions. I have a standing policy to not drink unless I'm around other people, and to only have a couple drinks tops in any given evening.  Just to be on the safe side.

I find, though, that there are, at least for me, other things I consume that can be at least as destructive as alcohol. I'm talking about media.

The ever-enthralling Netflix.

For me, my mood and mental well-being can be influenced—at times, heavily influenced—by what I watch and listen to. I am naturally drawn to darker narratives, dystopian societies, things that reflect real life, regardless of how fantastical the genre. I love these stories, but given my proclivity toward depression, these aren't always healthy choices.  If I feel like life's all wrong, Battlestar Galactica and House aren't going to make me feel better. There are even very popular shows that I avoid specifically because of their darkness (e.g., Breaking Bad and Mad Men).

Likewise, there is a lot of music that I like that is all about questioning the status quo, seeking answers, struggling and hurting. To me, this seems more real than sappy love songs, peppy dance music and vapid pop. At the same time, it can build up a real negative effect. When I'm down, Linkin Park isn't the greatest thing to flip to on my iPod.

So I try to loop in some lighter material. A little Scrubs and some Chris Ayer. Sometimes, it needs to be more overtly positive, and I'll dig out some hymns.

The point is, examine what you're taking in. What do you choose to watch and listen to? Does it bring you down or lift you up? There's absolutely a place for the realistic-and-frequently-saddening things you might love. But when you're feeling especially bad, maybe reach for something else.

I am not alone ... and neither are you

When I said there might be long breaks between posts, I didn't expect to take almost eight months to come back. Life has been crazy. Crazy good and crazy hard, but pretty much always crazy.

Last week was one of the hardest I've had in a long time. Failure on top of difficulty on top of responsibility on top of painful reminders on top of facing fears; it was a perfect storm of depression triggers.

Now, when that happens, my greatest temptation is always to withdraw. I hole up, hide from everyone and try to power through (or, more accurately, weather the storm) on my own. I reject invitations, I avoid most human contact, I hit the Netflix queue hard and I keep the Kleenex close.

The biggest lies I always face are that I'm worthless and that I'm alone. Both have complex origins, but I think they're also pretty common among people who struggle with depression.

The beautiful thing about last week is that I never WAS alone. I got a random very nice text from a friend who had no idea what was going on. I--of course--ignored it at the time. One friend insisted on coming over and just sitting together, even silently, knowing that I just needed some care. Another friend realized I was crashing and called to apologize that he couldn't be there, and then texted me: "You have value. You have worth. Even if it feels remote or non-existent. I love you, brother." This last one especially highlights the value of being vulnerable enough to be known (I feel another post coming on soon...).

None of those things fixed the struggles I was and am facing. But each of them put a crack in the brick wall of despair I had built around myself. Taken together, they allowed me to see light and to begin the process of taking down the wall with the help and support of people who give a damn, even when I kinda don't.

Now, I know that you may not have such friends. I haven't always. I am deeply grateful to be blessed with them. But, behind each of those acts, behind their love, is a greater love, one that orchestrated exactly what I needed to keep me going. Even when I felt most alone, I never truly was. God was in it every step of the way, and when I lost sight of him, he sent my friends to remind me.

God will never leave you or forsake you. Oh, I know it feels that way. And when you're down in it, it may be impossible to see him. But he will give you the grace to persevere. And, I hope, he will send you someone to just sit with you when you really, really need it.

This blog sucks

No, this isn't a self-deprecating attempt to garner your praises. It's an explanation of part of the reason I don't post as often as some of you (and, honestly, I) would like.

It's hard.

Well, there it is. It seems that it is best for me to write something when I'm not actively bogged down in my depression, since I can usually at least attempt to have a level of objectivity then. So I try to write when I'm feeling pretty good. Or at least OK.

The nasty paradox there is that when I start to think about and analyze my story, my experience and my feelings, I start feeling worse and worse. So, when I'm feeling pretty good, I don't want to make things worse by over-thinking everything.

At the same time, I think this is a really good thing, both for me and--with any luck--for others, so I do want to keep doing it.

All that to say, it kind of sucks. 

But no, I haven't given up on it. I will keep posting. I have a few entries in the works already. I just wanted to say that the interval between posts will probably always vary, and that sometimes it might be a good while. But I'll be back.

Thanks for reading, and thanks to the many of you who have given feedback, shared your own stories and encouraged me!