Dealing with depression is very difficult, not the least of it being because depression comes in so many different shapes and sizes;
in varying shades from pale grey to total black;
from a shadow passing in front of the moon to a total eclipse of the sun.
To say “I am feeling a bit down” can mean almost anything – from not wanting to share your feelings because they are so hard to express, to having a temporary feeling of things not going quite right but being totally confident every thing will be sorted out very soon.
Too often we brush off the concerns of family and friends with a dimissive “Oh, I’ll be fine!” when in fact we don’t know whether we will be fine or not.
When asked if I knew about depression this is what I wrote in 2009 :
“What can you say to pierce this dreaded black fog, when once it descends? No words prevail. Your hugs pain me as I seek only the agony of my solitude. Leave me. Let me lie, that I might ponder why I am worthy to live. To recall my unknown and unforgiven trespasses. To hear each breath as it flows in and out my imprisoned chest. My heart cold. My sun dark. Perhaps, this time, it will not pass – and then I shall lie peacefully forever in the arms of eternal quiet and struggle no more.”
These are not just words, spun like a thread by a writer. This is my own memory.
I, too, have known that black despair. To have lain by the river, curled up under a tree, and tried to vanish.
Few will live their whole lives without feeling the hopelessness that depression brings, but for most – it is something that will pass. It is something against which we can learn to protect ourselves – if only we will take heed when it begins to stealthily creep into our minds and hearts.
What has helped me is knowing that others need me; that I have gifts of love, compassion and praise to share. Now I understand giving support and empathy to others strengthens me, at the same time.
After our #Vigil6100 in August 2010, we had some wonderful responses from young women who wanted to reach out after the event and share.
One is a Twitter friend and she wrote this:
Inspired by @LesleyDewar1’s tweet tonight. My own sort of take on it, having battled it for coming up to 10 years now.
Depression- it’s there. It’s not there. You can be the life and soul of anything and yet dying quietly inside. Your outward life is like a mask, and yet it is also real. And meaningless at the same time. Even you don’t know what is real and what isn’t. You live as a shell – empty inside. Black inside, often shiny on the outside. What is pleasure? What is pain? Above all fear rules, but you push it away and pretend it isn’t there.
You are alone in your head. Bad place to be. Use many things to distract you from aloneness in the head. Words, sounds, music, art – all just distractions from the nothingness inside, and yet they help. On the surface.
Doctor gives pills and sends you for counselling, but it’s just as empty. Because you are empty inside. Empty and falling down, down, down. Sucked down – black swamp/pit/fog of nothingness. Why? You don’t know. Best to hide. You like the rock to hide under. It’s safe and secure. Stay under the rock. No one can see your blackness there, and even you can pretend it doesn’t exist.
What can we do for each other?
Show compassion. Depression is an insidious disease and we need to be aware – all the time – that a “down day” may not be as simple as it seems. Do not feel embarrassed to ask for help. I know now that I suffered badly from post-natal depression after Annette was born but I did not know why I was so miserable. I only knew that I thought the world would be a better place without me.
Reach out! Keep reaching out! You are not alone. Reach out to groups like
- Lifeline Lifeline
- Beyond Blue Beyond Blue
- Beat Baby Blues Beat Baby Blues
- Ngala Ngala
and many other organizations that are there to help. Find your local support organization and keep the contact details close to hand. If you feel you are suffering from depression, learn how to manage it – with diet, exercise, support, counselling and medication. Take care of yourself. Laugh a lot – even when it seems ridiculous to be laughing when you feel so damn awful.
Begin to pray, although you may not feel God is listening. Angels are. They brought me home and they will help bring you safely home, too.
Articles and Blog posts on Stories My Nana Tells are written by Lesley Dewar, who regularly publishes links to them on Twitter @lesleydewar1, on Facebook Lesley Dewar on Facebook and on LinkedIn Lesley Dewar on LinkedIn Readers are welcome to share all articles and blog posts provided this note of copyright is included. (c) Lesley Dewar
I have to say, this article is wonderful. Thank you for being brave enough to share.
I have a few of my own thoughts (ramblings perhaps) to add. I’m Kiera, and my depression nearly cost me everything. My life, my marriage, my friendships…
It’s reasonably fair to say, that after each of my children I have had a bout of post natal depression. It went undiagnosed until after my fourth baby.
Depression for me ranged from simply sitting feeling nothing at all, to full blown self harming rages and suicidal thoughts.
I knew I needed to access help. But the help I was trying to access ALL suggested medication of some sort. Medication wasn’t an option for me, I was breastfeeding, and sceptical of the claims of safety on any medication packet insert.
I say this not to discourage women from taking antidepressants, just to explain my personal stance.
I had no family support – in fact, quite the opposite. My family essentially abandoned me after the birth of yet another boy. He didn’t have the frills and fancy dresses that a wee girl would have had – he wasn’t special, he was just another one of Kiera’s children.
Some family members expressed their disappointment at my “failure” as a mother, suggesting that they had once thought me to be a “Born mother” and that I had fallen from grace in their view. Others disputed my diagnoses and suggested that PND is “Very hard to diagnose, and maybe I just needed to clean my house”
For the most part, the outside world was shielded from the reality of the darkness. They didn’t see the rages, the panic attacks, the self harm. It was only my husband who saw the true impact of my illness. No one really understood other than him, and being burdened with the incredible task of caring for someone you love, who no longer cares for themselves enough to live took its toll on him too.
I relied on a few close friends who were available to me as much as they could be. Offering anything from child care, to meals, to cleaning. One dear friend even brought around a vaccum cleaner when ours gave up the ghost, and that was enough to send me into a spiral of anxiety and panic.
I found that accessing mum’s groups increased my anxiety, as everyone appeared to have it far more together than I did. I found Facebook to be an incredibly damaging environment for me to be.
I found that most people would (with the best intentions) suggest that I put my children in to school, rather than home educate.
I did end up finding amazing and supportive help that has helped my body heal, and my mind gently repair. And the tide of endless dark days seems to have receded.
For me it was nourishing my body, to help achieve a balance again. Naturopathy has been a gift to me incredibly helpful.
Speaking with my midwife, who offered a huge range of resources I didn’t know existed. (Red cross have a service for mothers with PND!!)
Counselling, and talking talking talking with a supportive, understanding counsellor, who was accepting and encouraging of our lifestyle.
Eliminating people from my life who didn’t serve to help.
Accepting all offers of help
Reaching out and saying “No, I’m not OK. This is what I need”
And most importantly, steadfastly holding on to the glimmer of hope that one day, perhaps, I would heal.
It can get better, and with help for me it did. Looking at my beautiful family now, I am incredibly grateful that they helped me out of the fog, when it so easily could have gone the other way.
Kiera – thank you for sharing your story with us.
When we are overwhelmed with the darkness of depression – whatever its root cause – it is impossible to see outside our own fog. I am so very glad to know you are healing. It takes time, and patience and being eternally vigilant.
You and I are the lucky ones – my beautiful daughter, not so. I wish every happiness and strength on your successful journey into the future, with your family.