By mksummerbell

Depression. Not a cheerful topic. Not at all. Depression isn’t pretty, or funny, or fun. But, since it recently surprised me with yet another nasty visit, here I am with the unwanted opportunity of exploring it once again. 

From my very beginning, from the instant of my conception, I feel that depression has had a huge impact on me. While I was growing up, my mother was hospitalized multiple times for treatment of Bipolar Mood Disorder, or Manic-Depression. But before I had a name for it, even before my earliest conscious memories, depression was pervasive in my life, in my environment, and most certainly strongly affecting me.

I remember quite clearly my first sure sign that depression was also something happening inside of me. I was twelve years old, in eighth grade, reading The Agony and the Ecstasy, about my favorite artist, Michelangelo. I came across a word I had never heard or seen before – “melancholia.” I knew from context that it wasn’t something pleasant, was obviously a malady of some kind. And yet I was mysteriously drawn to it. It sounded so pretty – musical, whimsical – magical, almost. It reminded me of little flowers – millefiori, delphinium, wisteria. As I looked at it on the page, something resonated in my body, my chest, my heart.

Even after I looked it up in the dictionary and learned that it’s a term for severe depression, I still felt a strong attraction to it. I was amazed at how perfectly it described what I often felt – “a deep or intense sense of sadness, dread, or gloom.” Something about that word – “melancholia” – rang very true to me in a way that nothing else ever had before. I look back at that resonance as the Universe telling me, subtly and gently, but most definitely, that depression was not just external, around me, but something inside of me, in my body – a personal, internal influence in my life.

Depression has been, and is, defined so many ways, and I don’t want to get into complex medical diagnosis or technical details here. I’m not a medical professional. One short, simple, basic definition of depression is “a deepened or prolonged sadness in everyday life.” My personal, experiential definition of depression is “a biochemical brain/body imbalance causing a damaging detachment from life that can range from being frustrating and inconvenient to being debilitating, disabling, dangerous – even fatal.” 

Depression can be triggered by traumatic life events, injury, chronic medical conditions and/or substance abuse. There is a hereditary component; some of us have a genetic predisposition for it, but science hasn’t sorted that all out yet. When depression is generational, it’s extremely difficult, if not impossible, to distinguish biological factors from environmental ones. 

Symptoms are many and can seem contradictory. But, considering that depression is fundamentally an imbalance, neurological and/or hormonal, it makes sense that it can be expressed in opposite extremes – loss of appetite, or overeating – insomnia, or oversleeping – emotional hypersensitivity, or numbness, feeling nothing – nervous and restless, or lethargic and despondent – explosively angry, or sad, apathetic and withdrawn. 

Depression can be as slow and insidious as a subtle, maybe gradually increasing, undercurrent of consistent indifference – an unusual, long-term, or atypical lack of enthusiasm or motivation. Or, it can knock you flat in a flash, and suddenly you can’t eat, can’t sleep, can’t think, can’t stop crying. Even the simplest, most ordinary tasks take extraordinary effort. It can, literally, be difficult to breathe. Between these polarities are a vast array of symptoms that can vary wildly in presentation, duration and intensity. And, with co-existing conditions, can be quickly and deeply entwined in a tangled, frustrating puzzle of diagnoses. 

Depression is mentally, emotionally, physically and spiritually stressful and painful, affecting every aspect of our beings. It can be as brief as a few minutes of guilt or grief – or deep, intense, and as pervasive and persistent as it is inexplicable. It is, indeed, a wily creature – a clever chameleon that can look different each time we see it, as it shifts and changes over a lifetime of diverse circumstances, conditions and resources. 

I once read a description of depression, that it’s like being in a sinking, leaky boat, frantically bailing out water that comes back so fast that there’s no hope of rowing to shore, or ever fixing the hole in the boat. It can feel like treading water in the middle of the ocean, and something keeps pulling you down as you barely keep your head above water. There’s no help in sight as you get more and more exhausted, just staying in place. For me, depression feels like being trapped inside a television set. As life goes on without me, right in front of me, I deeply, desperately, want to be in it, to join the people that I hear and see. But I am trapped behind the glass that keeps me from touching, or feeling, anything. I feel so helpless, so hopelessly alone, filled with a longing for so many moments lost, so much potential unattainable. Melancholy me. 

So – what to do? Psychotherapy, medication and Electro Convulsive, (shock), Therapy are the recommended medical treatments. Wholistic options include Naturopathic treatments, Homeopathic remedies, chiropractic adjustments, Acupuncture, Acupressure, Emotional Freedom Technique, (an Acupressure tapping and affirmation sequence), Aromatherapy, herbal and Bach Flower products, Reiki, massage and meditation. One product I highly recommend to anyone is Rescue Remedy – a Bach Flower product I’ve been using safely and effectively for over forty years. 

There are psychological and spiritual concepts that have really helped me live with depression. One of them, of the utmost importance, is to keep your identity separate from your diagnosis. We need to carefully consider the words we use to describe our relationship with depression, or any condition, and change what we say to better express reality. To say, “I am depressed” means that depression is who you are, as in, “I am Anna.” No! No! No! This isn’t true. You are not your depression – or any other illness, disease, or disability. You are light. I am light. We are light. You are love. I am love. We are love. Each and every human being is a singular expression of divine life. But this vital life force gets distorted when it enters form in matter. That’s human nature, and the source of sickness and disease. 

It’s also useful to have a neutral attitude about depression – to be as non-judgmental as possible about it, and yourself, and your experience of it. Rather than thinking of depression as bad, (or good), simply acknowledge that “It is.” Let it “be.” Accept, respect, observe. If we can step back from it like this, our detachment helps us see more clearly what’s actually happening, be more objective, and respond more reasonably. 

What I often say about depression is, “Don’t feed it, and don’t fight it.” If we “feed” something – sit and think about it, keep dwelling on it, focusing on it – it will grow, because we’re giving it our life energy. Conversely, if we fight depression, it will defend itself, and get stronger. Denial is a way of fighting. The more we deny anything, the stronger it gets. The trick is balance – to admit that we feel depressed, but not get lost in it – to feel the feeling, but move through it, to function as best we can. To say, “I feel like crap – but I think I can get up out of bed.” 

Another very effective method of dealing with depression is to just sit with it – not encouraging it or rejecting it. I talk to it. “Hello, darkness,” I say. “Why are you here?” The answers can be amazing. When we’re in it, deep, it’s hard to remind ourselves that depression is a natural, healthy, human defense mechanism, meant to help us stop and take care of ourselves when we’ve taken a hit from life. Yes, it’s here to help. It just doesn’t have great social skills, and doesn’t always know when to leave. Sometimes we need to tell it, kindly but firmly, “Thank you for your protection. It’s time to go now.” 

There are many pathways to healing from depression – art, music, theater, dance, nature, gardening, cooking, crafts, sports, games, puzzles. We can read, write, paint, sew, go for a walk, take a nap, take a class. Laugh. Call a friend and talk. Animals, especially pets, and plants and rocks can all be helpful when we’re feeling low or blue. Sometimes something as simple as a few slow, deep breaths, a glass of water, or a cup of tea, can be both soothing and refreshing. Kindness is uplifting, even if it’s just someone’s presence, in silent support. Community is so very important; we’re not meant to live in isolation. So, be with people as much as you can – even if you don’t feel like it. It’s good for you, for all of us. 

As I said at the start of this article, I’ve been struggling lately with depression. I admit that much of the time I was writing this, I felt like quitting. But, somehow, I didn’t. I kept telling myself, “Keep going. You can do this.” Why? For my own self-care. But also, because I realize that so many people are challenged by depression, and other imbalances, in their lives. And if you are one of them, I want you to know that, even if I don’t know you, I care about you. And I write because it’s my way of reaching out to connect with you through shared experience. 

Maybe, in my words, will be a “melancholia” moment for you – a sign, an insight, a flash of recognition of something for you to take a closer look at, or get help with. Maybe you learn a new coping technique, to practice now, to get ready for depression’s next visit to you. Maybe, just maybe, I can plant a seed in your hopelessness that will later grow to be something better in your life.

And if, right now, you are trapped in your television set of depression, I’m here to say, “I see you. I know how it feels.” I am pressing my open hand up to the glass, sending my love light, sitting with you. When you are able, then we can take each other’s hands and go together through the darkness – which is the very best way to go into the light we always truly are.