“Life makes it so hard sometimes — to know what’s real…”
-David Crowder Band, “Can You Feel It?” from The Remedy
You may have noticed that I’ve been AWOL lately.
I could tell you that I was busy, and that would be accurate. I could talk about being distracted, or blocked, or just not feeling funny. All true.
But I’d be lying by omission if I didn’t also explain that my reticence has a root:
Depression. The lion that has been slinking around my castle walls since I was a child.
Life makes it so hard sometimes — to know what’s real.
Life – present struggles or past abuses – can flit or flood into our line of sight at any time. Triggered by tragedy, or conflict, or even hormones, dark stuff appears. Anyone would notice. It takes effort to not stare. But those who turn from it can still focus their eyes back on the real.
The problem for me begins when I stare at the darkness. I examine the little injustices. Pick them apart. Try to figure them out. And as my gaze intensifies, my eyes refocus. The darkness solidifies and comes into sharp relief. Like the spot that remains in our vision after a flash photo, it obscures the bright scenery beyond.
Soon love blurs. Hope gets a little faded around the edges. And light and joy recede in the growing twilight. I’ve unwittingly entered a room devoid of light.
I speak from frequent experience: If you do this long enough, everything goes gray.
And in the haze, only the NOW remains visible. The bad part of the now. With its sadness and rejection and fear. Moments of joy or fun or laughter may provide light. But for an instant, as a pinpoint. A flame that quickly extinguishes.
I don’t know about you… But at those times, I CAN’T feel it.
Days stretch into weeks, and dimness becomes my mostly companion. I move away from the open door and into the darker room. I forget what light looks like. I even forget where light comes from.
And I no longer know what’s real.
***
So. I still know that I prefer the light. So I shuffle and grope my way forward in search of it. But my definitions are topsy-turvy. I flee from the scary shadows behind me, never guessing that they’re the people who love me. I sometimes hear God faintly calling, but he sounds angry. So I hide.
Flashes of light still appear. Now I’m obsessed with them, as my only escape. Maybe it’s the door, far ahead! I fixate on them, but they’re always fleeting. They always go out before I reach them.
For a person with “clinical depression,” THIS is where a downward spiral can begin in earnest. We keep running in the wrong direction, and the darkness only gets thicker.
But we don’t think to turn around.
And yeah, I admit it: lately I’ve been spiraling.
I haven’t been feeling it.
***
Maybe the songwriter has experience with depression – personally or in a loved one.
Or perhaps this sentiment isn’t unique to the clinically depressed.
I suspect the latter. If for no other reason than that we depressed people like to think we’re special: the only ones with a past – or a present – this PAINFUL. And SAD. And IMPOSSIBLE to overcome.
…Yeah. The more I dwell on it, the more I think we ALL sometimes get blinded to what’s real.
Thankfully, I wasn’t running all alone. Even if it felt like it.
To Be Continued…
22 responses so far ↓
1 Wendy // Aug 19, 2009 at 12:08 pm
Would you like me to send you some of my Prozac? Yup, I’m there for ya.
2 Lianne // Aug 19, 2009 at 12:10 pm
I’m sorry to hear that you have to deal with this. Thank you for your honesty in sharing your struggle with us.
You are a bright spot of light on Twitter! You never cease to make me laugh and never seem to be in a funk. Feel free to come talk to us when it’s not a good day, too.
3 Paula // Aug 19, 2009 at 12:16 pm
Thank you for writing this! You’ve expressed how I often feel in a way that I could not have done myself. I love your description of the haze and shadows. So true. The worst part is when there is really nothing bad that’s happened to you, really nothing you SHOULD be sad about, but you still are. That’s my problem. Couple that with generalized anxiety, and you’ve got someone who cannot concentrate, relax, or see past the NOW. I have a recurring dream about driving but not being able to see the road, so I keep squinting my eyes to try to tell where I am, but I swerve from shoulder to shoulder, trying to avoid the ditches and get where I’m going in one piece. I rely on medication to keep me grounded and feeling hope-filled, and I’ve now come to the realization that it’s not just a temporary stage for me; I’m going to be taking it for life. But that’s okay. It’s also really helped me to dig deeper into my Bible studies, but in order to do that, I’ve got to have the motivation to even shower, let alone open the Bible. (Thus, where the meds come in.) You are so brave to write a post like this, and I really commend you and thank you! I think the fact that you’re identifying your feelings and what’s happening inside your head is an indication that you are well on your way to working through it. Just know that there are those of us who totally get it and who are here to listen!
4 katdish // Aug 19, 2009 at 12:53 pm
Holy cow, Steph! It’s hard not to allow the darkness to surround us isn’t it? I’ve been there. It’s overwhelming. But darkness is the absence of light. You have that light within you. Hang in there.
when the darkness fills my senses
when my blindness keeps me from your touch
Jesus come
when my burdens keep me doubting
when my memories take the place of you
Jesus come
and I’ll follow you there
to the place where we meet
and I’ll lay down my pride
as you search me again
your unfailing love
your unfailing love
your unfailing love
over me again…
Peace.
5 Monica @ Paper Bridges // Aug 19, 2009 at 12:54 pm
you are not alone, sister. I think a lot of women struggle/ suffer depression today because our society demands we be superwomen. Additionally, our culture is very much into “doing it alone,” whereas it used to be work in community. Both contribute to depression. We women are made for each other, I’m glad you shared this. I’ll be watching for you on Twitter to give you encouragement and love.
monica
6 Marni // Aug 19, 2009 at 1:02 pm
Hey Steph,
This was a beautiful rendition of the ugliness you have to battle. I’m so sorry you deal with depression.
I do too.
And I beat myself up when I do because I think a child of God shouldn’t “allow” depression in. Then I battle guilt. It’s vicious cycle. The only consistent thing in it for me is that I run from God. I don’t know why I do that except that I don’t realize I’m doing it…
Medication, prayer and accountability to the love of my life have kept the bouts further apart, but not eliminated.
Part of what helps me deal with the “can’t” is knowing I’m not alone in my struggles. You aren’t alone in yours. I am asking God to burden me to pray for you until this lifts.
I’m here if you need anything.
love,
m
7 Billy Cofefy // Aug 19, 2009 at 1:07 pm
Coming from someone who’s battled clinical depression for years, I know how black that darkness can be. And I know that while you’re standing in it, even the light is scary. It doesn’t matter whom you know is there or how much they love you. You have to be in it to truly know it.
It took a lot of courage to drag that into the light of day by writing about it. Good for you, Steph. Hang in there.
8 jasonS // Aug 19, 2009 at 1:27 pm
I haven’t battled it all my life, but I do feel I have experienced this kind of depression in the past (in fact, it was nearly a year in length). I think that bringing it into the light and exposing it is a huge thing. You bring it not only into God’s light, but into the light of community. That’s a very powerful thing.
By the way, I hadn’t made it over here yet and Katdish sent me- did you read my blog today? Here’s the link: http://bit.ly/7Py94 … Blessings.
9 Annie K // Aug 19, 2009 at 3:07 pm
Wow, it amazes me how many people deal with this(from the comments I’ve read). I know I have had more dark days than light in the past 6 years and it is tough to pull yourself out of it.
Hang in there Steph, apparently a lot of us know how you feel and all I can say is keep your eyes open because you will see the light.
Love you mucho!
10 joyce // Aug 19, 2009 at 3:10 pm
I’ve noticed your absence….you’ve shown courage in writing this post. I’m sorry for your pain.
Praying for you as you walk thru this.
11 @ngie // Aug 19, 2009 at 3:26 pm
Steph I am praying for you. I am proud of you for being so bold to put this out here. Love you.
12 Big Blue House Momma // Aug 19, 2009 at 3:32 pm
I *JUST* read about this very subject last night in a very good book! Can’t remember if you are a homeschooling mom or not ~ I read lots of homeschoolers blogs
~ but the book is ‘Homeschooling With a Meek & Quiet Spirit’ from Titus2.com. She has a very good chapter about her battle with depression.
13 faemom // Aug 19, 2009 at 3:36 pm
*hugs* I’ve been there too. You can get to the light. *hugs*
14 Beth // Aug 19, 2009 at 3:37 pm
You said…
“If for no other reason than that we depressed people like to think we’re special: the only ones with a past – or a present – this PAINFUL. And SAD. And IMPOSSIBLE to overcome.”
Then Paula said…
“The worst part is when there is really nothing bad that’s happened to you, really nothing you SHOULD be sad about, but you still are.”
Those both really got me. Weird how many of us deal with this or have dealt with it. Okay, not weird at all…my mom used to tell me that the artist’s heart feels a lot more. More joy. More darkness. I have a seriously hard time talking about or even admitting that I kind of/might/ maybe/probably struggle with depression (especially during the summer). So I admire you and love you even more for writing this. Keep at it, Chica. The fact that you know you’re not running alone means the battle’s already been won, right?
15 Candy // Aug 19, 2009 at 4:54 pm
I have missed your tweets lately and in the back of my mind was asking myself “I wonder if…?” I have so been here and applaud you for being so transparent – something I have never been able to do. “dimness” “haze” “faded hope” – all so descriptive and real to me. Please know you are on my heart and in my prayers. You have my number – for tick bites and anything else that may come along. I’m with you and for you and so is our Lord. We’re never alone, and it looks like you have a huge posse here.
16 Jo@Mylestones // Aug 19, 2009 at 10:57 pm
Steph, I think it’s one of the hardest things in the world to do–to write about the tough stuff when you are in the MIDDLE of it. Sure, when it’s over, it’s okay to share because the ending is clear and we might even feel a bit smug about how we endured triumphantly….But in the MIDDLE, when it’s dark and hazy, to write about it (and to write it so well as you’ve done) reveals such courage, self-awareness, wisdom.
I look forward to part 2….and to finding you again on the other side of it, back in the light where you know what’s real.
17 Hillary @ The Other Mama // Aug 20, 2009 at 10:34 pm
I’m so sorry you are going through this. I hope your honesty and soul bearing are theraputic. I know you are helping so many people- who are either going through it or who need to know what it’s like.
(((hugs)))
Hillary
18 sherri // Aug 21, 2009 at 7:35 am
Steph- you know I have battled with this too- right now I’m okay, but it been a huge force in my life in the past…several times. I also wrote about it awhile back and was SHOCKED at the amount of people who emailed me privately, or commented publicly about their battle with the same.
It does tend to isolate, and make you feel as if you are alone, when nothing could be more untrue.
I know now to be praying for you- and believe me, I know how to pray for and against this!
19 Steffj89 // Aug 21, 2009 at 9:41 am
Steph,
girl I have walked this road for many years. 21 to be exact, I have done meds and not done meds, I have been to the depth of the abyss for me and I have stayed peering over the edge of it for months at a time. There are not words, feelings, or even prayers that can help me when I am there. I feel for you and empathize with you.
I am not in the depths right now thank god, but am worried that it still may reclaim me at any time. I can tell sometimes when its coming on, but others I wake up and I am already there.
What I do know is that each time I survive it and come out the other side I am stronger and happier in a way I had not been before.
I no longer find it astonishing how many women suffer from some form of it, what I find amazing is the number who still feel shame and fear at admitting they are dealing wiht it and that we as a society have not come out and full on began to look at how it has increased over the last 50 years and what can be done to help women get help sooner so that so many dont have to live with the darkness for so long.
When I first began suffering, i went to dr after dr who told me to get over it, or that i had to choose to be happy. if I had known then what I know now I would have considered malpractice. I have severe clinical depression, it tends to be exacerbated by PTSD issues and major hormonal fluxes. Noone should ever be told to just get over it….
hugs and hopeful thoughts for you that your journey will not be long.
Bless you!!
Steff
20 Helen // Aug 21, 2009 at 10:43 am
I am so sorry you are feeling like this Steph.
My depression has been situational (my own diagnosis and chosen word), not clinical, and I have been tackling it lately (or has it been tackling me? It is so hard to tell who hit whom in the middle of a struggle, isn’t it?).
Know that we love you, and you aren’t alone. No person but Jesus could ever REALLY know another struggles, but we love you and want to be here for you.
Jesus did say Blessed are they who mourn, for they shall be comforted….
We so want to be of comfort to you, Steph….
21 A lighter shade of gray | The Red Clay Diaries // Aug 21, 2009 at 11:34 am
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22 Nicole // Aug 21, 2009 at 11:49 am
You’re not alone, sister…so many experience this in a large or small way. There are definitely days I loose my umph, feel overwhelmed, down on myself. Thank you for sharing and being so honest. I hope you feel not so alone in sharing and the spiral starts to take an upturn!
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