I watched this video recently on the internet regarding depression and suicide. I balled. Although I'm an emotional person, most internet videos don't make me cry like that. Like the 'heaving-sobbing-I-e can-barely-breathe-cry.' It's not just because it's sad and it's a sad story that we need to talk about. It's because I know how Mr. Smith feels. When he was twenty, he says his depression sort of 'collapsed' on him. "I felt like I was drowning." "I didn't know how to explain what was happening to me. And when you're in that, when you're in the thick of it, it really just feels that you're the only one." He goes on to describe then the time he attempted suicide.
So, before everyone starts worrying about me, in my adult life I have never attempted suicide. It's not something I plan to do. I remember before I was a teenager I contemplated it. I was going to jump out of our two-story bathroom window. Looking back, I realize that, while I probably would have been pretty hurt, there's little chance I would have actually died. But, that isn't the point. I really didn't even want to die anyway. I just didn't want to be there. Or really, be at all. It's like all I saw was the negative, the hurt, the pain. I felt like nobody loved me. I knew my mother loved me, but at the time I felt like it was more out of obligation (which, of course isn't really love). It was that day, however, that I experienced for myself what I had already known--the love of God encircling me--telling me He was real and He was there and that it would be okay.
Since that time for many years I had been a pretty happy person. I saw changes in my life that were miraculous and I wanted to make a difference. It wasn't all ups. I went to counseling for a lot of years, struggled with challenges socially, academically and emotionally. But I understood that those things are part of life and that I could learn and grow from them. I had a lot of faith.
Ever since I went on my mission, however (which in many ways had been one giant traumatic experience) things have just been getting a lot harder. I realized how little control I had over a lot of things. Regardless of my faith and efforts, so many people rejected our message. Many of my companions struggled with depression and crippling thoughts that, although I had a deep and abiding love for them, and understood a lot of what they were going through, I could not fix. I saw broken homes and broken hearts. It hurt me to the core.
I didn't understand. If God could heal me and it happened so powerfully and it was so true, what about these other people? While I learned a lot of lessons about faith on my mission, in a lot of ways, I think I started losing hope--too much ambiguity--too many things I didn't understand.
My biggest dream was to get married. About the same time as my that suicidal experience, I pleaded and pleaded with Heavenly Father to help me have a happy family. I believed that with God all things are possible. I knew He could make things change, and I was willing to do whatever it took to learn and implement the skills so my present and future family could love one another. I've been growing and changing and learning those skills ever since, and so many time, I think 'yes, I believe a happy family is possible. I believe I can do this.'
Since my mission I've been through two broken engagements, despite having had the faith and hope that everything would work out. Despite putting my whole heart into it. Despite believing I could have a happy family. While I don't really have any romantic feelings toward either of those guys anymore, I still grieve the loss (again) of my dream of having a family. I think I grieve things I don't even understand. Despite the gratitude I have for not having been trapped in those marriages, despite the tremendous lessons I've learned, despite my love for the gospel, I'm afraid I'm being hurled into another bout of depression. I use the passive voice because I feel like it's something that's happening to me. Something I can't control.
It makes me not myself. I love people. I love life. But depression makes me not want to talk to anybody. It makes me feel like a burden. It makes me feel unloved and alone. I think it's a cover for a lot of anger that I don't want to have and I don't like expressing, so I just shut it down.
These are the reasons I don't talk about depression. Why I don't want people know. But I thought it was important to share because I don't want to end up like the guy on the video. I don't want to isolate myself. I need a support system. I need the love that I know people have for me.
1. I don't want to admit that I have it. If I tell people I have depression, I become a diagnosis. I become a statistic. I become something that people might try to research. I'm fragile. Saying that I'm again getting depression also means that I didn't 'beat it' the first time. Despite what some people say, I don't believe I will always struggle with this so.
2. I feel like I'm making it up, or at least that other people might think that. Some days it's hard to go to work. My job is pretty flexible in that I make my own schedule. I have two sides to my job--appointments and paperwork. I never cancel my appointments, even when I'm feeling terrible. But I often put off the paperwork for another day because my brain tells me I can't do it, or my heart tells me I need to run away. This makes me feel lazy and guilty and maybe nothing is wrong with me but I'm just using it as an excuse. As a child I used to run away and that was the only time I remember my brothers reaching out to me with carino. (Don't know how to translate that one, but I guess we could say 'tenderness.') There were a couple other times, but only when I was in deep distress. So I ask myself 'am I making this up?' 'Do I just want attention?'
3. It makes me feel ungrateful. My life is exceptionally blessed and in many ways privileged. I have been led and guided by the Lord in so many ways. I know He is always there for me. I have a ton of good friends and family--people I know who really care for me. I have a great job, with exceptional co-workers and an amazing boss. There is really nothing to complain about. I see miracles and receive beautiful insights every day. So why the depression? When upon life's billows, why can't I just count my many blessings? I wish I knew the answer to that question, but it's so hard to explain. It's like, when I'm in my 'depressed mode' I have this cover over me that makes it so I can't see anything. If I try to count my blessings during depression, then I just beat myself up that it doesn't help me feel better. If I really were grateful then all of God's love would be enough. But I'm not so I'm a terrible person.
4. I'm scared/prideful. Honestly, for much of my life I have felt second-class compared to the rest of my family. Practically everyone besides me is married with beautiful children. While they all have their struggles, it doesn't seem like the difficulties of our childhood really affect them. Or, in ways that I know it has, they've been able to overcome. Why not me? I'm almost the youngest, and I think that everyone has always believed there is something 'wrong' with me. It took me over a month to admit to my family that my last fiancee and I weren't getting married (although that was stupid because I'm sure they probably knew). What's tough is that I don't think these feelings are completely unwarranted. When I finally did announce this, I heard a comment made about somebody having 'won the bet'--like they were taking a tally as to how long this engagement would last, or if it would ever come to fruition. Although I probably shouldn't worry so much about what other people think, it's hard to reach out to people when I'm not one hundred percent sure if they would hurt me.
5. I don't want people to doubt my testimony. I know the church is true. I know that God is real with all my heart. Knowing that He has a plan of happiness sounds kind of contradictory to struggling with a condition that literally can keep you from being happy. I've never had cancer or some debilitating illness, but I know people who have that have found, through the love of God, strength and genuine happiness and peace even through it. So depression makes me feel somehow like I'm doing it wrong, and that if somebody knew, they would call Bolshevik faster than in the card game. The reality is that, even though I hate dealing with it, struggling with depression has helped me learn more about my Savior and the love that God has for me. It's like He wants to stretch me and see that I power to do more on my own (I'm living on my own, paying my own bills, working at a job for big-adulty people--things I have never imagined). He wants to teach me that I don't need to depend on somebody. But when it comes down to the hardest moments, He reminds me that He is always there...usually through uncanny timing of sending somebody else, or a little miracle of something amazing that is just for me. I suppose because I honestly do believe that healing is real and God has the power to make it happen now, admitting that I have depression seems like I didn't have faith enough.
6. It makes me feel all sorts of guilty. I love the song "Glorious" (I believe originally written by Stephanie Mabey and most recently covered and publicized by David Archuleta). It speaks about feeling aimless but that there is a wonderful part and work for all of us in the beauty of our lives. I believe this. In fact, I know this is true. I have seen things, even through the darkest times on my mission and otherwise where God put me in a particular place to do a particular work. I feel like I have a lot to offer. But depression hinders that. I would rather be doing my work, or spending time with friends, or reading a good book instead of laying on the couch crying and eating cookies. (Although we usually don't have cookies, so I'm crying about whatever my depression is, and also lamenting the fact that we don't have any cookies.) Many days, despite my undefined feelings, I eventually get up and get going. I know that it will always help me feel better. But there are some times when I literally. Just. Can't. I don't know why. Not enough will power? Perhaps I'm just lazy. I know I can be contributing more. I have deep and sincere desires to love and to give. I don't feel like I'm doing enough.
7. I don't understand it. The times I do try to reach out to people, they will usually ask me 'well what's going on?' And on my hardest days, the answer usually is 'I have no idea.' In times past, I have learned a lot from my depression. For those of you who know me, you'll know I'm a very analytic person. I can easily gain understanding, insight and meaning from things going on. I see the symbolic representation of things.
But these feelings I've been experiencing recently seem to be coming out of nowhere. They're nebulous. I don't know how to conceptualize them. How to pinpoint the problem. I've already battled so many of my demons and learned so much from it that for all that knowledge and all those tools not to be working makes me feel defeated. Why is this happening? I said earlier that I'm grieving the loss of a potential family (again) but I only say that because of the timing. But the feelings I'm feeling are not the same as the first time--the thoughts are not the same. They're so much more nebulous--like it's just sadness. It's just anger. It's just defeat. I have some images or memories that I might connect things too, but when I do it almost feels like I'm grasping at straws to kind of come up with the 'why' answer. None of it feels right. Either I'm making all of this up, or the root of my depression is somewhere deep, deep down inside of me that I cannot see and I never knew was there. And, despite my efforts, it doesn't seem to want to be coming out any time soon.
8. I feel like it will keep me from getting married. While I know in a lot of ways I'm a good catch, I'm smart. Funny. Compassionate. Loving. I'm an excellent cook. I know how to have lots of fun and make people happy. I love serving. Despite these qualities, however, I honestly believe that my depression will keep me from getting married. And that can be pretty depressing. I don't want people to feel sorry for me. For one thing, it's not fair to put somebody through that. Secondly, I think there's this big part of me that just wants somebody to take care of me because I'm struggling to do it by myself. I don't think that that's what marriage is really about. (Yes, marriage is about taking care of one another--but it's about both people contributing 100%.) Not to mention the fact that both of my fiancees broke up with me from what I feel is due to depression. I used to believe that as long as I kept working at it and trying my best that this didn't have to keep me from getting married and having a happy family, but having seen more of the realities of a relationship with depression, I'm not sure if I still believe that's possible. Or if it's something that I even want. I want someone to love me forever and unconditionally. Does that include if I want to run away and stop living? That's not fair to anyone.
I don't think I'm giving up on marriage in general. I still want it really bad. But the idea of some wonderful person seeing me for who I really am truly caring abut me and then my issues get in the way of that...well, I will feel like it's all my fault. And I don't know if I can go through that again and come out unscathed.
9. I know other people have gone through worse. While for me, my depression and my two broken engagements have been pretty debilitating, I know people who have been abused systematically (emotionally, physically, etc) since childhood, who have been through divorce and miscarriage and attempted murders, and drug-addicted parents, etc. Those people have worked hard. So many have overcome their struggles and achieved their dreams. Even though I know that those people, as my real friends, are there for me and love me and don't judge me, it hurts me to turn to them (probably the only ones who I could really turn to) because I don't want to complain or be a burden, and because I secretly feel stupid. Why can't I get it like they can? I don't deserve to be in their presence.
10. I know it isn't true so I should be better by now. Perhaps the hardest part of my depression is the cognitive dissonance. I have thoughts like "I'm not important" or "Nobody loves me" which I know are not true. But just because they're not true doesn't mean they're not real. I try hard to fight them. I cast out the adversary. I pray. I read my scriptures. I write the truths in my journal. I try to summon the energy to fight. Sometimes it goes away. Sometimes it doesn't and I have to try to do something else. Distraction helps stop the thoughts--like spending a lot of time on facebook where I don't have to think of anything. I know it's just pretend,though. I suppose a part of me does really believe these things or it would be easier to just shut it off.
In some ways, though I know how to fix it. Just go to the gym. Just go for a walk. It doesn't always work, though. Do you know I've cried through an ENTIRE gym session? I don't feel like I get a lot accomplished.
11. I hate people telling me I should get on medication. There are a lot of reasons (philosophical and otherwise) why I don't want to take anti-depressants. Even if we did know (we cannot empirically) that there is a chemical imbalance in my particular brain, we assume that it is a physical cause, even in the wake of the effect that trauma and stress have on physical, hormonal and chemical processes. That doesn't mean that I don't think anyone shouldn't take them in general. Perhaps each person needs to make the choice for themselves. But it seems to me that many people just think you can pop a pill and it will all go away. I don't think so. There is a lot of emotional/cognitive work for anybody that's struggling with depression. Perhaps I should be taking medicine and it will make it all better and I'm just a stubborn bull for thinking not to. But either way, I don't want to, I'm not going to and you can't make me. I know of some counselors who refuse to work with people unless they will take medication. I don't trust that people I might turn to for this won't think the same thing.
