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!

Eschewing Perfection

One of the things that really messes with me is the pressure, both from within and from outside myself, to be perfect. To name a few: I must earn good grades, find a well-paying and interesting job, write flawlessly, perform brilliantly in all social interactions, never let anyone down and always be happy.

Right.

And I know it happens to you, too. This is one of the most destructive lies we tell ourselves. Because we will either be constantly stressed and under pressure to achieve, or we will become consumed by whatever ways (real or perceived) we may fail.

 As I said, these expectations can come from two sources: myself and others. In most cases, though, the pressure from others is really coming from me, too.

If you find yourself feeling constantly under pressure from others to be perfect, examine yourself first. Are those expectations really coming from someone else? Or are they projections onto others of your own expectations? Do you expect that they'll have expectations, and therefore bury yourself under pressure they may not even be exerting?

If, though, the pressure really is coming from someone else (family is generally the biggest culprit in this, particularly parents), you can--and, really, need to--work on adjusting those relationships. Talk to your parents and tell them you feel overwhelmed by how much they expect from you. Tell your friend that you do care about them, but you can't constantly be everything to them. If you're lucky enough to have a healthy working environment, talk to your boss about what's realistic and what's fantasy in terms of production. You can't always fix things, and sometimes relationships need to be sidelined if they are having a toxic effect on you. But you should certainly try.

If it turns out the pressure is all from yourself, well, that's harder. You have to live in your head 24/7. But you have to learn to let go. Set realistic goals. Have a reward system for achieving them. Don't expect to be perfect, and don't hate yourself when you aren't. No one else does. Love yourself for the skills and abilities you have. Be thankful for what you have and where you are, for what you can do and the difference you can make. And when you mess up, forgive yourself and learn to move forward to the next thing.

Because idealism (that is, expecting the ideal) is paralyzing. How many people never start something because the idea isn't ever quite good enough? It could be a project, a relationship, a business. I've done it, with all of those. If I don't start, I can't fail, right? But that's the thing: almost every good thing you can do/have/learn/experience requires risk. Yeah, I might fail. But what about what I might achieve? If I never start, I'll never know. Is that really worth the "comfort" of playing it safe?

No, it's really not. Think about the things in your life you wouldn't have if you'd always taken the easy road. Let them encourage you to go and do, to risk and be free.

So expect yourself to be good. Expect yourself to do your best. Do what you can. But don't expect yourself to be perfect.

Dream

I often forget how to dream.

At one time, there were untold wonders before me, career paths to explore, places to go, ways to change the world.

Now, there is today, tomorrow and maybe next week, or even next year. I can plan. But I don't often dream.

Through a series of painful and frustrating circumstances, many of the dreams I had were dashed, and the agony that caused made me never want to hope in anything again. It's safer, I reasoned, to never have those dreams, to simply take life as it comes and thus never again be so brutally disappointed.

But what I've found is that, without dreams, ALL of life is a disappointment. If you have nothing to believe in, nothing to pursue, then everything begins to feel like a giant waste of time. When that happens, my mindset becomes the very epitome of that old saying: "Let us eat and drink, for tomorrow we die." Whether I were to die "tomorrow" or in 50 years, I have already given up.

And so, it seems to me that it is a part of being human to need to dream. To look longingly into the unknown future and mold it, ever so gently, with the imagination. It may not happen the way we've crafted it, but it WILL happen, and we'd better still be going when it gets here.

I still struggle with this, very often, if not daily. I find it hard to believe that the future can be better than today. It's been a long time since I was full of hope. But even on the worst days, I have learned to cling for dear life to the last shreds of dreaming, knowing that, tomorrow, or the next day, or next week, I will need to continue building them back up.

I have found nothing so profound to get me through my darkest days than to dream. Try it with me. You will face disappointment. But never let all hope pass away. Tomorrow is coming.

Don't run

For me, one of the most persistent lies I've believed--and acted on--about my depression is that it's something I can run away from.

This has looked different at different times. Sometimes, it's meant avoiding personal relationships, since they can bring me down. Other times, it was obsessing over one relationship or other, hoping and praying that it would be the one that could actually make me happy. Still other times, it was changing majors or schools in an effort to find something new, something exciting, something accepting. And yet other times, it was diving into a book or television series to the exclusion of most thoughts of reality, to be somewhere with people I could know, but where I didn't have to be known.

In any of these cases, a few things happened. First, I was really no happier (maybe temporarily, at best) when I was running away. Secondly, looking for fulfillment in those things only made things worse. Life without relationships is meaningless and miserable. Focusing all your hope on ONE person will always end in disappointment; no one can provide all that you need. The "right" activity, interest, hobby, whatever, can help give you direction, but it's not a total fulfillment. And, obviously, fiction isn't reality, and can't truly change yours.

As I've talked about, relationships are important. So are activities, things to engage your mind and keep you active. Distractions can be very useful, so long as they don't consume you.

The biggest problem with running away is that it's a waste of energy, which is often a pretty limited resource for someone struggling with depression. That, and it provides a false hope of a quick fix.

There is no quick fix to being depressed. It's a long road. It's a battle, pretty much every day. I get tired of fighting. Half the time, I'm worn before the day even begins. But life goes on, and I have to keep going. And I can.

So can you!

Friends and Family

Happy New Year!

In my last post, I talked about some of the activities that can help me back to "normalcy" when I'm in the midst of depression. I hope that some of you who've been reading along have come up with a few of those in your own lives as well.

I mentioned, though, that there are times when--even though I know I need to--I can't get myself to actually DO any of the things that will help. When that happens, it's important for me to have people, friends and family, who can and will step in.

Now, it is important to note here that depression doesn't only affect the people who actually struggle with it. The people who love us suffer, too. It's not the same, certainly, but I find that I can be remarkably selfish in pretending that I'm the only one who's hurting. So never take for granted the people who care for you; I know that I do that too often.

Anyway, I need to have people who know me, who know what "normal" looks like, what the "trouble signs" are, and who give enough of a crap to help. I've been unspeakably fortunate to have many such people in most of the stages of my life where I needed them.

Help looks different in different circumstances, and sometimes there's not much to be done but simply be willing to sit with me and let me know I'm not alone.

If you don't have people like that in your life, I cannot overstate the benefits to your heart and soul to letting people in and letting them love you. It is difficult for most people--myself included--to really let down the walls and really be open and vulnerable with others. But if you find a person or a few you can truly trust, it is very much worth it. It's risky (relationships always are!), but it can bring so much good to you. And to them.

If you're someone who doesn't suffer directly from depression, realize that it's hard to ask for help. Know that it is a huge step of trust when someone shares their pain with you. I know it's hard to deal with us at times, but we need you, and even if/when we fail to tell you how much it means to us, you're making a difference.

Do things

I apologize for not having posted for quite some time now. Ironically enough, I went through a period of more intense depression for a good chunk of October, and even once it was past, I couldn't get back into this. It took the hounding of a very dear friend to get me back at the keyboard. Anyway, we're back in business, so here goes:

I've found that a lot of dealing with depression has to happen when I'm not actually feeling depressed. 

For example, in the last post, I mentioned activities that you can do to try to drag yourself out of a depression. For me, a couple of examples are playing my guitar, reading a good book, going for a walk. I need to engage my mind in something besides self-recrimination and doubt, and to get my body moving. Other people I know find that video games, sports (watching or playing), creating something (art, music, whatever) or being around friends and family can help. 

The problem is that it took me a long time to realize what the things were that could help me back toward "normalcy." Because when I'm in the midst of an episode of more severe depression, none of those things sound good to me. I don't want to do them. When depressed, I have an amazing to capacity to do absolutely nothing but sit/lay around my room and think. So it took realizing that these were things that give me joy when I'm feeling OK, and that if I force myself to do them when I feel terrible, it might just help.

Now, it doesn't always, and sometimes I can't convince myself to do any of them, and that's where friends and family come in, which I'll talk about next time. 

But the times when I can force myself to read a good book, go for a walk or pick up my guitar, it's been really helpful in my process of getting out of the profundity of depression I face off and on. I would encourage you to take note of a few things that make you happy and bring you joy now, so the next time you find yourself in a bad place, you'll at least have some tools at your disposal that might just help you out of that place.

It doesn't make sense

There's something it took me a long time to realize about my depression: It doesn't make sense. Now, to me, that's incredibly frustrating. I like things to be quantified, analyzable and logical. Depression isn't really any of those things.

Depression doesn't really seem to follow a recognizable cycle. And sometimes, when there's all sorts of crap going on in my life, my depression isn't really that bad, while sometimes everything is going great and I feel awful.  And, of course, vice versa.

So, what does this mean? First, I would say, don't get hung up on trying to figure out WHY you're depressed. It's a chemical imbalance in your brain. There's often not much rhyme or reason to it. And beating yourself up trying to answer the "why" can end up making you feel just that much worse. Second, focus on things that can make you feel better (as opposed to why you feel bad). I'll talk more in my next post about this, but there are things (and they're different for each person) that you can do to drag yourself out of the hole you're in.

Lastly, don't blame yourself for the way you feel. That will be--at best--unproductive, and can really make things a lot worse. Depression isn't a figment of your imagination, and it's not a result of something you did (or didn't) do. Would you be to blame if you had MS or another physically debilitating disease? Of course not. Depression is a disease, and it can be a debilitating one. It just is a lot easier to hide from others.

Better days, worse days

I was talking the other day with a friend who reminded me of a common misconception about depression.

Depression, the kind we're talking about here, isn't a situational, occasional thing. It is a chronic thing. Situations can (and do) make it better or worse, but it's never gone. It's not something that goes away.

If "normal emotions" was a line on a graph, the depressed person's "normal" would fall anywhere from a little bit to a whole lot lower than that. So too, the peaks and valleys of the emotional roller coaster of life are pretty much always a little lower than they would be for someone without depression.

I guess, in the simplest terms, there is no day that depression doesn't affect me. Some days it's better; some days it's worse. But it's always there.

Now, this doesn't mean I'm never truly happy! I surely am! It just makes it a lot easier to fall from happy back to something else, and maybe a little harder to get there in the first place.

Anyway, all this to say, part of what makes struggling with depression extra difficult is the constant expectation from others that we will "snap out of it" or "get better". We won't. That's not how this works. Anyone with depression already knows this. To you, I say, don't give up. If you love someone who struggles with depression, know that it IS a struggle, and that the road is long. Don't think that the first mountain you make it to with them means the valleys are all behind you. Be ready to take their hand again and face the darkness of the valley together; they'll need you.

Welcome

First things first: Go read my story by clicking the "My Story" tab (clever, I know).

Done that? Good.

This blog is a place where I will honestly present my experiences with depression and suicide, both my own and--with their permissions and changed names--people I've known. It is my hope that by being open, I can encourage a culture of openness that will cultivate healing and support where there has too long been condemnation, ignorance and exclusion.

Whether you yourself (have) struggle(d) with depression or you simply care for someone who does, I hope to walk with you on this journey and maybe we'll all learn something.

Feel free to comment or to e-mail me to talk about anything.