Depression Series - Volume 2

Depression does not mean sad

It’s not surprising that so many famous artists are depressed. Be it actors, comedians, musicians, painters, dancers or poets, many of those who have created the most moving works have also openly battled with depression. Being an artist doesn’t make you depressed – but if you are depressed and you can find some medium for expressing those emotions, I think you cling to it like a life preserver. For me, it’s writing. In putting pen to paper, so much of the swirling in my brain takes shape and I can release some of the tension pent up inside of me. The words, in black and white in front of me, have both more and less power. While only in my mind, they taunt me, ridicule me and tell me that I am trapped with them. Once on paper, I see them for what they are…versions of reality, half-truths, temporary conditions and past hurts and traumatic experiences. On paper, I can evaluate these fractured emotions and partially formed thoughts with a little more distance and a little less gravity. For me, this is a form of therapy.

Artist convey much of themselves onto their canvas of choice. The emotion flows from a deep place within and can bring wonder and delight to those who experience their art. Artist can move others to catch a glimpse of the depths within their own souls. And it isn’t all a feeling of sadness. While depressed people may feel sad, we might also feel happy or have fun or enjoy life. When depressed,  there certainly might seem like the balance has shifted to being sad more often, but there is an underlying current that remains that is deeper than sadness.

What is this underlying state that colors everything else? I honestly can’t tell you. I’m pretty sure it’s different for everyone and I don’t think I can put a name on my own, but I do see a common manifestation of depression – hiding.

Hiding can be done under the covers or by never leaving the house or by standing in a corner alone in a crowded room. Hiding can happen in a conversation where you keep the conversation light and plaster a fake smile on your face. It’s found when people ask you how you are and you brightly smile and say “I’m fine”….because you know in your heart that being fine is the only answer people want to hear. So, behind fake smiles, “I’m fine” responses and closed doors, we hide.

My son, who has serious issues about trying to play video games when he was supposed to be doing other work, literally sat in the living room, right in front of me, with a blanket covering his whole body, head and all, while he was “reading” on his chrome book. The whole “I’m going to read on my chrome book” was plausible, as they have several online books they are supposed to be reading, but the fact that he needed to cover himself with a blanket made the entire scenario suspect. It’s like in Genesis when God calls for Adam and Eve in the garden of Eden. They knew they broke the rules so they went to find some figs leaves to make clothes and hid. Adam says to God “I heard the sound of You in the garden, and I was afraid because I was naked; so I hid.” (Genesis 3:10)

Shockingly, when my son heard me walking towards him, he quickly closed the video game tab. Just like the garden: I know I’m going to get caught doing something wrong so I will hide.

With depression, there is always an undercurrent of something being wrong. We might think it is wrong with the world, but I would guess more people feel the way I do – that something is wrong inside of me. There is a world of people out there who are actually, legitimately fine – and yet I am not. And so we hide. It doesn’t mean we are sad. But exposing ourselves seems like a particularly dangerous thing to do. We can either be exhausted by the fake, socially appropriate interactions or we can function in small safe places with most of our walls down. But, for me, and maybe others you know, there is always an element of hiding. I may not carry a security blanket around the house, but I certainly don’t leave home without a solid barrier between my heart and the world. Only a very, very, very select few are allowed in.

Francesca Battistelli’s song “If We’re Honest” begins:

The truth is harder than a lie

The dark seems safer than the light

And everyone has a heart that loves to hide

If we’re honest, we all hide in some way or another. We all deal with fears and insecurities. We all have a feeling that something inside may be wrong with us, especially compared to the beautiful Facebook lives carefully crafted and dutifully liked, showing just how blessed we all are.

And yet, inside my head, a constant uneasiness remains. A quiet condemning voice. A whisper of fear. It’s a dark place to be. But sometimes the dark seems safer than the light.

The work beneath the work

A few days ago when reading the gospel of Mark, I was hit with this image from Mark 5 of the hemorrhaging woman who received healing from Jesus. While another person comes and asks Jesus for healing for his daughter, the woman presses through the crowds and touches Jesus' cloak, confident that she can be healed. There was a huge testimony of faith in that moment that struck a deep cord inside of me - she believed that all she really needed was to be near Jesus and she could be well. He didn't have to speak. He didn't have to touch her. She just needed to be near Him. I felt a stirring inside as I weighed the hypocrisy of my fasting to be near Jesus and then making appointments with doctors and counselors for my treatment. I felt like I was hedging my bets - like I would go to Jesus, but it didn't really matter if I couldn't find Him because I was taking care of the problem on my own anyway. In that moment, I knew I needed to come to Jesus for healing. While I am not against doctors or medicines, I knew that in this moment in my life Jesus was asking me to be all in - totally dependent. No fall back plan. No effort of my own power. Trust Him alone.

I sought counsel and prayed before canceling my appointments, but each day that passed confirmed my call to be reliant on Him. And boy has He shown up!

At this point, I really have more questions than answers, but for the first time the questions are going deeper than the momentary struggle. I've been reading Tim Keller's The King's Cross, which is a work showing the life and person of Jesus through the gospel of Mark. Since Mark was the gospel which has been reaching into my heart so deeply, I wanted additional insight into what I was reading. Once again, Tim Keller has put into words so much of my personal experience.

I am like the paralytic, desperately seeking the Lord's healing for my heart and mind. Yet Tim writes of Jesus' response in first offering forgiveness, instead of physical healing. Keller says (pg. 28) "By coming to me (Jesus) and asking for only your body to be healed, you're not going deep enough. You have underestimated the depths of your longings, the longing of your heart."

Oh, I wanted to crumble in tears and shout with joy - this was it. I'm asking for Jesus to heal me, but it was still on my terms. I wanted to define to my Creator what was broken. It's like the people who come to the ER and tell my husband what is wrong with them and what medicine they need. They want help, but only on their terms. This limits our receptiveness as to what our true need actually is and how to treat it. In Lean terms, we aren't seeking the root cause, but only focusing on the symptoms.

Today, it happened again. Keller writes about Jesus interacting with the Pharisees and addresses their self-righteousness.  While we might not all turn to religiosity, we all have areas where we are trying to establish our identity in ourselves. I've done this more ways than I can count. I thought being popular would make me happy and tried to establish my identity on keeping all my friends happy and excited. I thought if I was the center of it all, then I would feel loved. And yet, I would die a little inside every time I heard about an activity where I had been excluded. It wasn't enough to have a marvelous time with them - I wanted every one of their great experiences to be with me. If they were my identity, how could they still have fun if I wasn't around? So I turned to work - aimed at being the best, the brightest, and desperately needed by my coworkers. If I was indispensable, then I was confident that I had worth. My titles and paychecks and meeting minutes validated my existence. Or what about being a Mom? No greater call exists than the rearing of another person, right? So I poured myself into my kids, wanting to nurture and support and guide and love in the ways that only a mother can. No one else can be there mother - they were born from my body and forever mine. Except that they are independent people. And each day they become more independent. And they don't need me - not how they did before. That will keep changing. And they do things I don't like. They don't always agree that I know what is best. They have their own thoughts and ideas. And so they should....but what about me? So I work, and I work and I work trying to find the place where I finally feel at home.

Hiking in the woods with my husband, I cried out to him, "I am so lost." For years now I have been spinning as each place where I go deeper just leaves me more empty. My restlessness grows and the fears and anxiety of the awful truth remains looming in the distance. I'm not needed. I'm not special. I'm not loved. It's so draining to find validation of your worth. There is always someone better, smarter, funnier, prettier....someone who is a better wife, better mother, better friend, better daughter. Someone who quilts better or cooks better or exercises more consistently. I was even jealous of my husband's love for the Cubs, thinking, "I don't have anything I'm that passionate about.". I lived a life of petrifying comparison, because in this neighborhood, you don't have to look to far to find someone more accomplished. It is exhausting, depressing, and totally demoralizing. Why do anything at all? Why even get up this morning?

And today I read in the Kings Cross (pg 43) "On the cross Jesus was saying that the work underneath your work, the thing that makes you truly weary, this need to prove yourself because of who you are and what you do - that is finished."

Jesus doesn't want me to take a pill and feel better, because He knows I have never truly held on and clung with both hands to the freedom the cross offers. A physical healing of my mind is so much less than He wants to offer me. He wants me to experience Himself. And nothing less will do.

Depression Series 1 - Depression and Drowning

Drowning.

When thinking about my depression, I often think of drowning. I was caught in an undertow as a small child in the Atlantic Ocean, off a beach in Rockaway, New York. The water is physically pulling you down, while waves are crashing overhead. Salt water stings your face, your eyes, and begins to fill your mouth. Your legs are treading water trying to keep yourself up, but they are getting more and more fatigued with each kick. The shore is tauntingly close and yet you have no means on getting there on your own. For someone drowning, help does not come in the form of simply being stronger, fighting harder or being a better swimmer.

No one would suggest that the way to save a drowning person is to stand on the beach and shout encouraging things like, “I don’t know why you are out there drowning when being here on the sand is so much better.” Or, “Come back to shore, where the rest of us are, it’s more fun.” Or, “See, that’s why I don’t go swimming.” And yet, with depression, a lot of well-intended people do exactly that to their depressed friends. “Come out and have fun, you’ll feel better.” “You know, I read that a good diet and regular exercise are great for people suffering from depression.” “You can’t let yourself think these thoughts, you need to look at the world from a glass-half-full perspective.” “I don’t know why you choose to be like this…it seems miserable.”

I’ve heard all of these – all from people I love and who I know love me. And yet there is a big disconnect between understanding depression as an illness compared to being just a moody person. For those who battle depression, it’s probably a struggle that will ebb and flow most of their lives. Several studies have linked depression with specific genes and genetic deficiencies in processing serotonin, meaning, you probably have other people in your family with depression as well. While depression looks different in everyone and can manifest itself in a variety of ways, science agrees that those suffering from depression can be treated. Treatment can take on many different forms, dependent on the type and severity, but treatment exists. Just as you wouldn’t tell the person with the chicken pox that they should just think positively and get better, the person with depression is not going to be able to just swim to shore on their own.

When someone is drowning, the lifeguard jumps into the water with his rescue gear and goes to the person in trouble. They aren’t saved from the shore. This picture is the first thing I think is critical in talking about depression. We have to be willing to get into the water. For some reason, the topic of depression is taboo and spoken about in hushed tones in dark rooms. People with it are scared what other people will think about them if they knew – like it’s a big moral failing rather than an illness to which you are most likely genetically predisposed. And if you are in the church, heaven help you. Literally. Because there are some churches that basically equate depression as a sin. Well, I am very comfortable saying that it isn’t a sin, but it certainly carries a stigma with it.

But if you know someone well enough to know about their struggle, you are a potential lifeguard. Not that you alone can save the individual, but you can certainly dive in the water and help support them as they get help. Shannan Martin writes in her amazing book “Falling Free”, “We’re all hurting, to varying depths. Some wounds bear more indelible manifestations; these scars can’t be covered. We don’t need fresh air or increased personal space in order to heal. We need the gentle compression of each other, living in close proximity with certain kinship. Hurt people heal people.”

No one has it all together and no one has it all right. But in gentle compression, we can press into the hurting situation and be part of that lifeline. Whether introvert or extrovert, we all need people. From the earliest stages of humanity, people bonded in tribes for safety, security, and prosperity. And yet for those who are suffering, depression can be one of the most isolating times of your life. People are afraid of saying the wrong thing. People are afraid of how you will react. People are afraid… we’ve made depression such a social faux pas that we have lost the nerve to dive in.

So let me assure you right now, while idle chit-chat, small talk or large public functions may not sound great to a person battling depression, the care of a true friend is always welcome. If you know them well enough to know they are struggling, then you know them well enough to be an encouragement.

I’m no doctor, therapist, counselor or expert of any kind. Just one gal looking out at the world covered in a grey haze from the recent rain. And maybe these words can be something positive amongst the clouds and drizzle.

Next installments:

-       Depression does not mean sad

-       Depression and joy – nearly everything you learned in Sunday School is wrong