My mum said something interesting to me last week. She was talking to one of her friends who referred to someone as depressed, and it made my mum mad.
Why would such an innocuous statement make my mother upset? I knew right away. It’s because to my mum, all depression looks like my depression. To mum, depression looks like your child wanting to die, trying to figure out if living is worth the pain she’s suffering.
There are people who seem to have tidy depression incidents. I envy these people. When I suffer from depression, it is a long, slow slide into misery and despair. Though I never act on it, I know it’s bad when I acknowledge to myself that I’d rather not be around. As a good depressive, I have a plan, though I’m quite sure I’d never actually follow through.
Also as a good depressive, I know that when I hit that point it’s a sign that I need to fight. I’ve been down this road a few times now (four, by my best guess), and I know what to do: engage friends, be social, commit to physical activity, participate in things you love to do with quick results, get my meds revised/upgraded/changed. These things make sure I remain here and present, instead of giving up and crawling into bed and never getting out.
The picture in this post is me, depressed, about to hit the bottom, but fighting. I did a shitload of knitting (a new activity with lots of quick results), and this is a photo I took of me working on something I was going to give to my Mum in December. See how that works? I’m going to make something, but I’m not giving it away for 5 months so I’ll be here for that, because I want to see how happy it makes Mum.
Depression is a battle that never really goes away. Even when it’s gone for a while, you remember it (though you sometimes forget how much it sucked). It’s harder for the people who know how much you’re hurting inside, the ones you turn to for help (an incredibly difficult thing to do).
I think depression is hardest for those who haven’t truly known anyone who has been at the bottom. It’s hard when you want your friend/lover/child/parent to just snap out of it. Their depression is boring, and your inability to help is frustrating.
You are helping. Even if it feels like you say the same things over and over again, or if you can’t say anything right, you are helping. Even if you think your friend/partner/child/parent is the most boring person alive because they never get out of bed/leave the house/DO anything, you are helping. You’re helping because you provide a connection to life, and you force that person to be present in this life. Your attention provides a reason to stay alive.
I wish that I was a person for whom depression was me feeling a little off, a little disconnected from life. I wish that I could have been that person that my Mum was irritated by. But that is not my type of depression.
On Tuesday, Bell Canada is going to donate money from every phone call and text made on their network in Canada to mental health charities and organizations. They’ve got a great ad campaign going to get people to talk about mental illness, or mental health.
If you’re not a Bell client (like myself), can I encourage you to participate in the dialogue about mental health? I think it’s a good week to think about recent proposals around mental illness and the legal system. I think it’s a great week to think about your workplace and how it supports people struggling with mental health issues, and how you can work to make it more supportive. I think it’s beyond time we started talking to provincial legislators about why mental health care is largely outside the provincial health system, limiting care to those with the funds to buy it.
For those of you with people in your lives who suffer from a mental illness, I encourage you to have patience. Love your friend/lover/child/parent. Be their connection to life.
For those of you who feel like your heart is being ripped out of your chest with every breath, and who wonder if anything is worth it, I want you to know that there are lots of people out there who understand, more who love you, and even more who would really miss you if you weren’t here. Stay and fight. And talk. And love. And live.
That’s what depression is to me. What is it to you?
16 comments
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February 10, 2013 at 8:46 PM
coffeewithjulie
Holy crap. I am bawling. This is the most beautiful and brave thing I’ve read in so long.
February 10, 2013 at 8:53 PM
CoCo
Breaks my heart…..
February 10, 2013 at 9:52 PM
allison
Really good articulation. I have to admit that when I heard the Clara Hughes ad where she says “what most people DON’T know about me is that, for two difficult years, I battled depression”. I kept thinking “WTF does that mean? You ‘battled’ it for two years and now it’s gone? Well yippy for you”. Then my friend said she took it to mean that she got help after the two years. Regardless, it’s not fair to judge the experiences of others with depression by your own. Or to judge your own experience by other people, who are able to climb out of it seemingly definitively and thereafter pose in Bell Canada ads looking gorgeous and mentally stable in fabulous boots. Okay, clearly I need to lay off Clara Hughes and I probably should have stopped at ‘beautifully articulated.’
February 10, 2013 at 10:01 PM
The Maven
Oh, wow… Just wow. From all of us who’ve been at the bottom, thank you.
February 10, 2013 at 10:02 PM
HollyStar
Another amazing reason that you are my BFF. I love you oceans.
February 11, 2013 at 8:29 AM
Trish Roche
From one who can finally admit to having been there (something my friends have known for years), I applaud you for this honesty. Being at the bottom is a feeling nobody aspires to and it’s a feeling you can’t imagine getting out of while you are there. Bravo. Sign me — been there, but not there now (and very grateful)
February 11, 2013 at 9:49 AM
writewrds
Well said. Thank you.
February 11, 2013 at 3:24 PM
sabine
See my PM… I so admire your courage !
February 11, 2013 at 8:44 PM
Sikander
Thanks for sharing this. It will help a lot of people and I hope it also helps you.
February 11, 2013 at 10:59 PM
Lori-Ann Claerhout (@borealmodern)
Yes! Keep talking about it. Keep knitting (nice scarf, by the way!), and keep going at all of the good things. Your writing is encouraging. xo
February 12, 2013 at 1:05 AM
Shima Robinson
So much to say about mental illness…deperession is something I have experienced and continue to battle daily. I like the good advice and love the fundraising campaign. It is important to put a positive spin on this issue and portray those of us who suffer from depression and other mental illness as potentially healthy people. Given the proper information and access to care we can aspire to a higher quality of life. Thank you for contributing to the effort to make this possible.
February 12, 2013 at 1:07 PM
Sasha
You’ve already said it: “Depression is a battle that never really goes away. Even when it’s gone for a while, you remember it (though you sometimes forget how much it sucked).” And that’s, well, depressing. I keep thinking it’s something I’ll finally fix, but I never do.
February 16, 2013 at 9:49 AM
shris
For me, it’s having a chip on my shoulder all the time, grumpy. Stuff that isn’t part of my routine is “too much trouble” even if that thing would be fun to do. I feel listless and drained constantly. I am one who has the ‘lesser’ depression that your mum got irritated with. I had it for seven years before I finally recognized that I needed to talk to the doc about it. The medicine she gave me helps a lot. Now I yell less at my kids, get irritated at stupid work stuff less, and am not quite so stuck in a rut. It was worth it to talk to the doc for sure.
February 16, 2013 at 7:58 PM
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February 16, 2013 at 8:51 PM
Sue W
Thanks for this. I am not seriously depressed these days, thankfully; although I was desperately so as a teenager.
A wonderful book, “Infinite Jest” by David Foster Wallace is really worth reading for the insight. Wallace was himself very depressed.
February 18, 2013 at 9:28 PM
Kim
For me depression surfaced as rage. I guess I’ve always been slightly depressed but in my 30′s it took on a different persona. Instead of saddness, lonliness, and hopelessness- it became blood boiling anger that flares up in seconds. It was an inability to function with basic life decisions and responsibilities. It was being so overwhelmed that I just wanted to shut down. Sleep. Flee. It was a stranger looking back at me in the mirror everyday.
Thank you for your courage and honesty. Please keep fighting.