I have struggled with depression for most of my life. For as
far back as I can remember I have always seemed to run a bit lower than the
average bear with the tendency to swing down rather than up. I am not sure why
I am this way. I suppose that I could point to my childhood or my bodily
chemistry, my own temperament or the seasons. To be honest, I could probably
point to them all, but the pointing really wouldn’t serve any purpose other
than to label what my body tells me. I run low. I have found that with diet,
exercise, and a balanced life that involves community I can level out, but the
reality is I still run low.
Any person who wrestles with depression will tell you that
depression is difficult for two reasons. First, depression brings an incredible
amount of pain and suffering, a pain and suffering that runs deep, is strong,
and at times all-consuming. It brings pain through cultural stigmas, labels and
the misunderstanding of friends and family. Simply put, depression hurts. Badly.
The second thing any person who wrestles with depression will tell you is that
depression brings about a sense of incredible loneliness. Part of this sense is
a perceived loneliness brought about by the muddied emotions of depression.
Yet, another part of this sense of loneliness is real. People will hang out
with someone who has the blues. Everyone has a down day now and then. Few wish
to stay very long with the depressed. It is just so. . .depressing.
Some of my loneliest times have been when I have been at my
lowest. It was during these times that I was at my least and most. I was the
least desirable and the most prickly. I was the least secure and the most
resistant. I was the most in need of friends and the least in supply. What I
have discovered across my years is that people have a low capacity for pain,
specifically the pain they perceive in others. Maybe this is because of a lack
of concern, though I actually am beginning to think it is more likely the
presence of incredible pain in ourselves that brings about this low capacity
for pain in others. Whatever the reason, people don’t hang around for long when
there is pain. Rather, when it becomes clear that pain has come for an extended
visit, I have found myself quickly entertaining my pain alone. Making its bed.
Fluffing its pillows. Preparing its meals. Chatting about life. Going to work
and driving home again. Alone with my pain, just me and my depression.
When I went through my last bout with depression something
changed. For the first time, I wasn’t alone. I had a small band of friends who
were with me and they stayed with me. They welcomed depression and helped me entertain
it. They helped make the bed, fluff the pillows and fix the meals. They went
with me to and fro in life. We went about together, me, my depression, and
them. What was amazing was not just that they stayed but it was their staying
that brought an end of my latest bout. My typical bout with depression can go
on for six months. My latest came on a sunny day in October and left of a
blustery day in December, staying not quite two months. That might sound less
than impressive but it is a radical shift for me. The only difference was the
presence of people who loved me, who hurt with me and for me, the presence of
people who were willing to join me in my pain. It was their presence, their
undivided, loyal presence that brought an end to my pain.
It was after my last battle with depression that I finally
began to grasp the powerful meaning of God’s continual promise of presence for
I had experienced its power. In presence, pain finds that it is not welcome. In
presence, pain is left with no place to stay. In presence, pain is confronted
and told to leave. On a small scale I experienced this with my friends, but God
promises it on a large scale. God sees us in our pain and promises to be
present and states that this is comfort. How is presence comfort? It is comfort
because with God’s presence pain finds that it is not welcome. In God’s
presence, pain is left with no place to stay. In God’s presence, all pain is
confronted and told to leave. I am beginning to understand that God’s presence
and only his presence can bring about the healing that I need, that this world
needs. It is therefore God’s presence that I seek and celebrate this Christmas
season, for it is his presence that brings an end to pain.
A fellow traveler,
Blake
What’s my next step?
We encourage you to
consider engaging in the following as a way of handing off faith in your
family.
Be still before God: God is with us, always, but it can be
difficult to recognize his presence. We get caught up in the activities of life
so that we miss God’s small voice. As a family, you can cut through the hustle
and bustle by pausing for moments of stillness in order to recognize God’s
presence. One way to do this is to sit silently before a meal, recognizing God
is present. Another way might be to pause and silently consider a sunset or a
beautiful picture together with your children. You might say, “Let’s be still
for a moment and recognize that God is here with us.” Your pause doesn't have
to be long, just enough to recognize that God is there amidst the hustle and
bustle.
We encourage you to
consider engaging in the following as a way of deepening your own faith.
Sit with God: In God, in his
presence is life. We can find the life that God offers by stepping more fully
into his presence through the power and presence of the Holy Spirit. One way to
do this is to take time to sit with God each day. You might set aside twenty
minutes to sit with God. If you have never experienced sitting with God before,
you might consider starting at 5 or 10 minutes. When you sit with God, do not
do anything but sit with him. Allow yourself to be with God. If your mind
wanders or if you become distracted, call it back by using a word like “Jesus”
or “Father.” Do not worry if you don’t sense anything or if nothing happens.
This is not the point. The point is simply to be with God, to sit in his
presence. The more you practice sitting in God’s presence in this way, the more
you will find that you take God with you from your place of stillness to your
place of activity. You will find that God is with you, always.
Well, I never would've guessed this about you. Beautiful in the transparency and brutal in the apt description of how loneliness (and depression) feels. You brought tears to my eyes. I think I might suffer depression sometimes, but I deny it. My mom had major depression and other mental illness, and so I refuse to allow myself to even think that I'm anything less than strong and healthy and functional. But your blog rang some bells (loudly). I do know that on occasion I have a day where I have ENERGY, and feel GOOD, and I think, Wow, I wonder how come I don't feel like this every day? And then I try to figure out what enabled it to occur: was it that I slept better than usual, or what? Anyway, much of the time I feel such a lack of energy all I can do is distract myself somehow (reading, talking on the phone, watching TV). It's kind of a half-life. Y'know?
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