RIP Robin Williams. The death of someone famous from a disease that you suffer from as well tends to make for a difficult night as thoughts run endlessly in your head about how easily it could be you.
Depression is a hidden disease. It carries a stigma and so those of us who have it don't talk about it much. But I feel the need to talk tonight.
I am not a doctor and if you have clinical depression, I urge you to talk to one. What I want to share though is my personal experience of living with this disease.
I have suffered from depression and bipolar disease since I was a child. I come by it honestly as it runs in my family. I have trouble understanding what it would be like to live in a family with no depression.
Even though I knew I was clinically depressed, I didn't seek treatment for the longest time. I was ashamed of being mentally ill; I was afraid that to be labeled as such officially would mean I wouldn't be able to find a job or find love or have a normal life.
The only time I have been actively suicidal was in college. I learned then that it takes a great deal of physical courage to kill yourself and I don't have that type of courage in me. That is a good thing in many ways but it meant year after relentless year of dealing with the deep dark and pain. With no end in sight.
During the worst of my suicidal bout, my sorority sisters (amazing women all of them!) wanted to to cheer me up and presented me with a cake that said, “We love you Judy” on it. It was a gesture of caring that can still bring a tear to my eyes almost 40 years later. It also turned out to be just the thing that turned that particular depression into something milder and easier to cope with. I don't think I was capable at the time of properly thanking the sisters of Alpha Phi, so I tell you now, “Thank you. The cake meant the world to me.”
I continued untreated and afraid to get treatment until my mid-30s when I totally collapsed at work in a puddle of unstoppable tears for no reason at all except I was depressed. I couldn't work. I don't think I stopped crying for two or three days. I needed medication and therapy and I got them. I was millimeters away from being hospitalized. As it was, I had to take a couple of weeks off of work to get well enough to come in. Because I had so publicly collapsed at work, there was no hiding my diagnosis. So many people I worked with came up to me to tell me that me or someone in their family also was depressed. For most of those people, I was the first person outside their therapist and family that they told. The stigma of depression means making it a secret and it helped both them and me to see that there were others who understood, what had been there too.
The meds helped get me back on track and able to face the world, but in the long run, I didn't like how they made me feel. I felt as if I was losing the things that most made me, well me. So in the 25 years or so since I first got treatment, I have only used the drugs sporadically when I feel myself slipping into the abyss. That works for me although I know for others the drugs are a constant companion and there is nothing wrong with that and no reason to be ashamed to need them. But for me, I lose my creativity and I lose the sharpness of my mind and those are things I cannot lose and remain myself. I have learned to know when I start to slip and need the drugs to get me out and haven't had an episode as bad as the one that drove me to seek help ever again. Although that doesn't mean I have never had a bad bout since, just never one quite that bad. And a certain low level of depression is with me most of the time. I just have learned better ways to cope with it. And anyone who has lived with me can attest that I don't always cope well. Sometimes I just want to stay in bed and hide from the world.
But still I manage to do a demanding job and I fell in love and I feel that overall I have had a good life. Depression has helped me grow emotionally and spiritually.
Just because I don't take drugs all the time doesn't mean I don't need help. Things that have helped me cope through the years include yoga, meditation, journal writing (especially morning pages, see the book The Artist's Way) and a wonderful behavioral therapist who taught me how to stop talking down to myself. And gratitudes help, they help so very much to help me focus on the more positive.
If you have not learned the technique for stopping the self-hatred talk, I share it here. First make a list of things you like about yourself (yes a written list.) They don't have to be major things and can even be silly things like, “I have nice elbows.” The list may not be very long at first. Don't worry as you get better at this, it will grow. Once you have two or three things on the list, you can start. Put a rubber band on your wrist. Every time you start to say something nasty to yourself, snap the rubber band and mentally yell STOP. Then mentally substitute one of the things on your list. You may be appalled at how often you put yourself down. I know I was snapping that rubber band every minute for the first couple of days. But gradually you will learn to say positive things to yourself and gradually you will start to see more positive things about yourself. It isn't easy and that rubber band hurts! But it is so worth it to free yourself from the negative self talk.
Another technique I learned was to write daily gratitudes. Take five minutes at the end of every day and list the things you are grateful for. This is training your mind to see beyond the depression to the wonders of life. I don't always write them now, but I take the time out every day to think about what I am grateful for and annually I post my daily gratitudes leading up to Thanksgiving. Gratitudes are like a vaccination for depression, they really help me, at least, to focus on the good in my life.
I finish this up with something else I have learned about depression through the years.
Depression tells you that all is dark and gloomy.
Depression lies.
Depression tells you that it is better to not get out of bed.
Depression lies.
Depression tells you that bad things are all important and that good things are insignificant.
Depression lies.
Depression tells you that it will never be better than it is right now.
Depression lies.
Depression tells you that no one cares about you or loves you.
Depression lies.
Depression tells you that you are worthless.
Depression lies.
Depression tells you that nothing matters.
Depression lies.
Depression tells you that no one will miss you.
Depression lies, it lies more than you can imagine.
If you only remember one thing in your life, remember that everything depression tells you is a lie.