by Lindsay Hinmon So, I’m going to talk to you today about depression. That makes a lot of people uncomfortable, but I think you should keep reading anyway. I get why no one wants to talk about it. It’s a delicate subject because it’s so riddled with pain. Depression hurts people. It hurts those who face it and those who know and love those who face it. I know because I have been in both those groups. Because I’ve know both sides, I’ve come up with a theory: |
I think depression scares us. I think we are afraid of it, partly because we don’t understand it. Because we don’t understand it, we don’t like when it happens to people we love and we don’t want it to happen to us. I’ve got a few thoughts that may give you insight into what can be a complicated situation. If you deal with depression or love someone who does, this is good stuff to know.
1. There Are Levels
You know how people say that Eskimos have some ridiculously high number of words to describe snow? As someone who has seen the belly of the beast of depression, I wish we could have similar verbal distinction for this condition. Much like happiness or love there are so many different kinds and causes of depression. We do have some distinction–words like, clinical, dysthymic, chronic, manic depressive, seasonal affective, postpartum and situational. Each one of these describes a specific way or reason a person feels sad. If you or someone you know is feeling blue, being able to sort through and put your finger on what the key characteristics of this bout of sadness are, naming or categorizing can be powerful in helping a person develop strategies for improving mental health. Learning the differences between the various types of depression can clear some of the frightening, misty fog that adds to the fear we feel.
2. Everyone Has Felt It
Most of the depression I face in my life is categorized as dysthymia. This is a mild but chronic form of depression wherein I am functional on a daily basis, but for years of my life felt like something was off. The best description I’ve got is that I felt like I was floating underwater, close enough to see sunlight, but never able to break through and feel it on my skin. I spent ten years of my life debating if what I had was “real” depression. The term seemed so daunting to me. The label was terrifying. If I admitted that I had it, I felt like I was also admitting to being too lazy to fix it, a burden, a person destined to always fail or come up short, an unstable person, someone who could never try hard enough or be independent.
That was really, really stupid.
After 10 years I went through a fairly serious bout of situational depression compounded by seasonal affective depression and my regular, every day dysthymia. Things progressed to a point where I no longer cared if I was lazy or less for needing medication. Whatever would make me better, that’s what I wanted. This isn’t typical for everyone, but almost immediately after beginning medication I could see a dramatic improvement in my mood. To put it extremely simply, some people have problems processing serotonin–the feel good hormone–in their brains. Apparently I am one of those people. Medication helps with that. That miraculous morning when what felt like a lifetime of bad days shifted and I broke through to finally, finally, finally feel the sun on my skin, I couldn’t help but wonder…what was I so afraid of? Coming out of that slow moving haze I could also see that those around me got sad too–sometimes more seriously than others. That’s ok. That’s normal. To a certain degree, we all feel depressed at one time or another. The stigma and denial only makes a depressed person feel more alone, afraid and helpless.
3. You Don’t Have To Fix It
During my bout of heavy situational depression, things were kind of like this: I was miserable. I knew I was miserable, and I knew that everyone else knew I was miserable. I knew that hanging out with other people was likely to alleviate some of my misery, but that no one could make it go away altogether. I knew that anyone who came within six feet of me was going to get some miserable rubbed off on them, so I did my best to keep people I cared about away. I went through months of not answering the phone, not inviting anyone over, and not wanting to leave my bed for long periods of time. When I finally came out of that just a little, I knew I needed help and desperately wanted the people in my life to come spend time with me. For the most part they were reluctant. In hindsight, I get it. They were afraid. Hanging out with someone facing depression isn’t exactly a party, but I think the thing that held people back most was that they wanted to help, but they didn’t know how. They didn’t know and they were ashamed or overwhelmed by not knowing, which meant that often they just stayed away. The good news here is that you (specifically) don’t have to fix anyone else’s depression. In the worst moments I still knew that people couldn’t fix me. I had to fix myself. You can’t fix it for anyone else. It’s just the nature of the condition. Just allowing yourself to realize this can lift an incredible burden of stress on the relationship between you and the person who is suffering. You can’t fix it, but you can show a little love.
4. A Little Bit of Love at the Right Moment Goes a Long Way
Sometimes the loved one of a person facing depression will get all gung-ho about championing that person through his or her depressive episode. This friend may say epic things like, “I am here for you, no matter what, day or night, you call me. I will help you through anything you need,” or, “We are going to get through this together! Stick with me and I will get you through.” These sentiments come from a good place, but the truth is, you cannot save a person who is feeling depressed from feeling awful–maybe really awful, and maybe for a really long time. I once heard Elder Bednar speak about “frenzied outbursts” of devotion. The idea is that it’s infinitely better to remain devoted to the gospel in little ways, every day. The same is true when you love someone with depression. You may not feel like you are doing much, but in the end it’s not the one time big things. It’s not about saying the perfect words. It’s about showing love the best way you know how. It’s the people that are living their daily lives but still there when you wake up on your 400th rough day in a row who can look at you and say in their own way, “It’s hard, but it’s ok. I still love you, and I’m still here.”
5. Often Times It Really Does Get Better
If you met me during this depressive episode I keep referencing you would not recognize me now. I have completed nearly five semesters here at BYU–Hawaii and am scheduled to graduate this Fall. I’m making plans for graduate school and very sincerely looking forward to a career in teaching. I’ve pretty well deciphered the code of what it takes for me personally to maintain balance–creativity, sunshine, positive people, a functioning relationship with God, a little medication, a moderate schedule, and the ability to let myself off easy when I am having a moment that may turn into a week long funk. I would not describe myself as depressed now. I will be again some day, for some period of time. I understand and accept that this is a part of me, but I have tools now. I’ve lived through it enough to know what to do to stay in balance.
I wish there were a formula I could write out for you if you too wage this daily war, but it’s different for everyone. All I can say is that you’ve got to keep trying, in whatever way you can that day. There is always another way to look at it. We learn to accept the good things that come our way and to appreciate them. We learn not to catastrophize and how to ask for help when we need it. We reframe and reframe and reframe again until we find ourselves genuinely engrossed in conversation or curriculum or laughing from the belly up thinking, “Huh. You know, today feels pretty good.” And that becomes the ground on which we build our world again.
*If you or someone you love is feeling the symptoms of depression, you are not alone. Talk with a counselor here at BYUH. It’s confidential and it’s free.
1. There Are Levels
You know how people say that Eskimos have some ridiculously high number of words to describe snow? As someone who has seen the belly of the beast of depression, I wish we could have similar verbal distinction for this condition. Much like happiness or love there are so many different kinds and causes of depression. We do have some distinction–words like, clinical, dysthymic, chronic, manic depressive, seasonal affective, postpartum and situational. Each one of these describes a specific way or reason a person feels sad. If you or someone you know is feeling blue, being able to sort through and put your finger on what the key characteristics of this bout of sadness are, naming or categorizing can be powerful in helping a person develop strategies for improving mental health. Learning the differences between the various types of depression can clear some of the frightening, misty fog that adds to the fear we feel.
2. Everyone Has Felt It
Most of the depression I face in my life is categorized as dysthymia. This is a mild but chronic form of depression wherein I am functional on a daily basis, but for years of my life felt like something was off. The best description I’ve got is that I felt like I was floating underwater, close enough to see sunlight, but never able to break through and feel it on my skin. I spent ten years of my life debating if what I had was “real” depression. The term seemed so daunting to me. The label was terrifying. If I admitted that I had it, I felt like I was also admitting to being too lazy to fix it, a burden, a person destined to always fail or come up short, an unstable person, someone who could never try hard enough or be independent.
That was really, really stupid.
After 10 years I went through a fairly serious bout of situational depression compounded by seasonal affective depression and my regular, every day dysthymia. Things progressed to a point where I no longer cared if I was lazy or less for needing medication. Whatever would make me better, that’s what I wanted. This isn’t typical for everyone, but almost immediately after beginning medication I could see a dramatic improvement in my mood. To put it extremely simply, some people have problems processing serotonin–the feel good hormone–in their brains. Apparently I am one of those people. Medication helps with that. That miraculous morning when what felt like a lifetime of bad days shifted and I broke through to finally, finally, finally feel the sun on my skin, I couldn’t help but wonder…what was I so afraid of? Coming out of that slow moving haze I could also see that those around me got sad too–sometimes more seriously than others. That’s ok. That’s normal. To a certain degree, we all feel depressed at one time or another. The stigma and denial only makes a depressed person feel more alone, afraid and helpless.
3. You Don’t Have To Fix It
During my bout of heavy situational depression, things were kind of like this: I was miserable. I knew I was miserable, and I knew that everyone else knew I was miserable. I knew that hanging out with other people was likely to alleviate some of my misery, but that no one could make it go away altogether. I knew that anyone who came within six feet of me was going to get some miserable rubbed off on them, so I did my best to keep people I cared about away. I went through months of not answering the phone, not inviting anyone over, and not wanting to leave my bed for long periods of time. When I finally came out of that just a little, I knew I needed help and desperately wanted the people in my life to come spend time with me. For the most part they were reluctant. In hindsight, I get it. They were afraid. Hanging out with someone facing depression isn’t exactly a party, but I think the thing that held people back most was that they wanted to help, but they didn’t know how. They didn’t know and they were ashamed or overwhelmed by not knowing, which meant that often they just stayed away. The good news here is that you (specifically) don’t have to fix anyone else’s depression. In the worst moments I still knew that people couldn’t fix me. I had to fix myself. You can’t fix it for anyone else. It’s just the nature of the condition. Just allowing yourself to realize this can lift an incredible burden of stress on the relationship between you and the person who is suffering. You can’t fix it, but you can show a little love.
4. A Little Bit of Love at the Right Moment Goes a Long Way
Sometimes the loved one of a person facing depression will get all gung-ho about championing that person through his or her depressive episode. This friend may say epic things like, “I am here for you, no matter what, day or night, you call me. I will help you through anything you need,” or, “We are going to get through this together! Stick with me and I will get you through.” These sentiments come from a good place, but the truth is, you cannot save a person who is feeling depressed from feeling awful–maybe really awful, and maybe for a really long time. I once heard Elder Bednar speak about “frenzied outbursts” of devotion. The idea is that it’s infinitely better to remain devoted to the gospel in little ways, every day. The same is true when you love someone with depression. You may not feel like you are doing much, but in the end it’s not the one time big things. It’s not about saying the perfect words. It’s about showing love the best way you know how. It’s the people that are living their daily lives but still there when you wake up on your 400th rough day in a row who can look at you and say in their own way, “It’s hard, but it’s ok. I still love you, and I’m still here.”
5. Often Times It Really Does Get Better
If you met me during this depressive episode I keep referencing you would not recognize me now. I have completed nearly five semesters here at BYU–Hawaii and am scheduled to graduate this Fall. I’m making plans for graduate school and very sincerely looking forward to a career in teaching. I’ve pretty well deciphered the code of what it takes for me personally to maintain balance–creativity, sunshine, positive people, a functioning relationship with God, a little medication, a moderate schedule, and the ability to let myself off easy when I am having a moment that may turn into a week long funk. I would not describe myself as depressed now. I will be again some day, for some period of time. I understand and accept that this is a part of me, but I have tools now. I’ve lived through it enough to know what to do to stay in balance.
I wish there were a formula I could write out for you if you too wage this daily war, but it’s different for everyone. All I can say is that you’ve got to keep trying, in whatever way you can that day. There is always another way to look at it. We learn to accept the good things that come our way and to appreciate them. We learn not to catastrophize and how to ask for help when we need it. We reframe and reframe and reframe again until we find ourselves genuinely engrossed in conversation or curriculum or laughing from the belly up thinking, “Huh. You know, today feels pretty good.” And that becomes the ground on which we build our world again.
*If you or someone you love is feeling the symptoms of depression, you are not alone. Talk with a counselor here at BYUH. It’s confidential and it’s free.