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.