I'm Depressed Again...

I made a mistake: I told you I had my depression under control.

Remember? I said that I control it‚it doesn't control me.

I was wrong.

We've been through this before. And I'll admit, as I'm typing this, I'm beyond hesitant to continue. I mean, what else is there to say? I doubt there is anything unique to this bout of depression that you haven't heard me say before. You probably don't care to read "another post about how you can help a family member or friend during his or her depression." There's no reason for you to pause your life for more than thirty seconds to read a letter from Madam Depression. While you're busy living life, mine has taken a moment to become a video of me sitting in a lawn chair in an empty house watching paint dry. Why would you want to watch that film?

I don't know. But for some reason, you're still reading this. Either you care or you're also depressed and everything I say henceforth is putting your apathy sprinkled with intense emotions into words. Perhaps you need that. Perhaps you don't feel like getting out of bed long enough or have the motivation to seek a counselor. Perhaps you just need a lifeline for a quick moment until you can get back on your feet. Perhaps you just need to relate to something at all because all you see right now is how everyone around you is thriving, while you're really just doing all you can to survive. May this be whatever you need it to be in this season. May you be able to give a voice to your struggle in some way. Because, although you've heard this cliché enough times to be annoyed by it, you really aren't alone in this.

So, I'm depressed again... and this is what I want my family and friends to know.

First, I get it. I'm my biggest critic right now because of that adverb. I don't need to feel the shame from you too. I really did think I was better. I promise I didn't lie to you. Just let's not use that word in conversation.

Second, I'm not me when I'm depressed. And this time, I'm really not myself. I'm wondering if you've even noticed yet.

Usually, I need reassurance that you care and that you aren't going to run away because of my mental health. And I have general anxiety about where we stand at all times. That's just my way of brokenly showing that I care. I'm not afraid of feeling insecure or sad or angry. You know this. You know that I am a feeler. I am that person in your life who you will often refer to as dramatic, which tends to irritate me. I am known as that friend who doesn't shy away from emoting. In fact, because I feel things so deeply and so regularly, I often wish I could turn it off.

That's what depression does for me.

To those I've pushed away and have been avoiding: the core of me is sorry. But depressed me has no regrets in ignoring your calls and texts. I know I should reach out and share how I'm feeling, but I don't want to. I don't care to. My apathy lately is outweighing my desire to be known or to be loved. So I've stopped. I've turned off my phone more days than you know about. I've let my emotions leave while I numb myself with whatever is available. Then I settle into apathy until I can accept my current state. I'm not sorry yet because I don't have to mental or emotional capability yet to feel regret or remorse for my actions.

And thinking about feeling remorse makes me angry. Because I shouldn't have to justify my actions to someone who hasn't cared enough about me until it affected them. My expectations of you were that you would have kept me from getting here because you would've seen the state of my life and known that I wasn't going to be okay. When I lost my job. When I experienced loss. When I was rejected. When I stopped feeling anything. You knew I wasn't okay, but you didn't care.

That's not fair. I'm not your responsibility. I know that. I just want to blame someone other than myself right now. And being mad at you makes ignoring you a little easier. Because something in me keeps fighting against this loneliness and for you to be in my life again... I just keep silencing it with angry rap songs and unhealthy coping skills.

I know I'm not me right now. I keep seeing glimpses of me though. So I'm not completely gone yet.

Third, I'm not me because I've put up so many walls.

Life came into my house and took advantage of me. It made me grand promises. It told me I had worth and that it wasn't going to hurt me. And I believed it. In one day, I discovered that the promises were empty and everything was taken from my home. So I've changed the locks. I don't let anyone in anymore. I don't care how little food I have in the cabinets, I'm not going to let you know about it. I know that my heating unit is out and the cold air is beginning to rush into the crevices of this old house, but you're not coming over to fix it or bring me more blankets. And you're sure as Hell not sitting next to me to console me and warm me up as I sit alone in this empty house.

I have gone to the store and depleted my bank account to buy boards and nails. I don't need windows because I don't care about the sunshine right now, so I'm boarding them all up. I hope the neighborhood thinks of my house as condemned so they won't stop by. Nobody is there.

Trust doesn't equal love. It never has. So me not trusting you doesn't mean I don't love you. It just means I don't intend to let you close enough to inflict more pain. It means I don't trust that you know the right words to say, especially since there are no right words, and in your babbling through the uncomfortability of not knowing what to say, you're going to just hurt me with "just think positively" or "snap out of this" or "you're being ridiculous" or, worse, thinking any of this is because of you and taking it all personally.

You know I always make everything about you. That's probably partially why I'm where I'm at. I neglected myself and let life get away from me and I got trampled in the process of taking care of everyone else. But it takes depressive episodes for me to start taking care of myself. It takes these foggy and gray days for me to even begin to realize that if I'm going to continue to exist in this world with you, I need to start caring a little less about your happiness and a little more about mine because your happiness doesn't keep me alive.

That sounds a little harsh, but honestly, I've thought multiple times lately that I wish I had me as a friend... and that sounds really arrogant, but I need someone that will take the time to be intentional with me. I need someone who isn't afraid of the darkness that is bound to reveal itself in conversation. I need someone who doesn't attribute my mental state to my identity or character. I need someone who fully knows me and fully loves me and sees that I'm more than just this boarded up shell of a person. But let's be real: I'd probably shut me out like I'm doing to you... which brings me to point four.

Fourth: I am so irrational right now. I am trying to rationalize everything I'm doing and saying and thinking and feeling, but when a person is in a bad car accident, we don't expect them to make sense as they step out of the car. In fact, traumatic events cause us to sit in a place of shock and attempt to find solutions to the unknown equations of what caused the event, what was the event, and what long-term impacts will it have on us. We don't say that the irrational thoughts of a person in shock are who that person is or how that person always thinks; rather, we recognize that this person needs help making sense of their surroundings and may say some things they don't mean.

I need help. I don't want to admit it. I definitely don't want to tell you I need your help. I am certain that I don't want to let you into this boarded up vacant house... because if you come in, it'll take a while for your eyes to adjust to the dark house that the sun hasn't seen in awhile. You'll see that I haven't gotten out of bed very often, except to accumulate the dirty dishes around my bed. You'll see that I've had moments of intense rage as I've yet to clean up the broken glass in the floor. You'll see that all the mirrors in the house are covered because I don't want to see what I look like because I'm ashamed of myself. You'll see that I've drawn my feelings on the walls and none of it will make sense to you. You'll find me: dirty, broken, and probably unable to talk to you. Because I don't want you to know how I feel. I don't want you to worry. I don't want you to see the myriad of ways I've equated myself to a worthless failure. I don't want you to bring me balloons and flowers because someone may see them and think it's for a pity party I might be throwing. I'm not okay being a burden to you. So I've tried to tell you that I've moved and no longer live in that vacant house. I am sorry for lying to you. You don't deserve that.

But yes, I will hesitantly admit that I'm not okay and I do need help navigating this season. I will take a board off the door and wait by the peephole of my door to see who drives by.

And here is what I want to say to my depressed peers:

Reaching out for help is strength.

And it's not foolishness to start taking the boards down when you recognize you can't conquer depression alone.

As you begin to make enough room to see out the window, I really do think you're going to be surprised at how many people are outside waiting for you to just let them in. You've thought that they would get tired of waiting on you and leave. You've assumed they didn't care about you anymore because you didn't have anything to offer them. But there are people out there. They want to come in and help you clean the glass up off the floor so you can stop stepping on it and staying hurt in your house. They want to speak Truth into the areas of your identity where you've only believed lies. They want to remind you that they have some scars too that life has left them and they're not turned off by your wounds. They want to change the radio station for a little bit and let some sun in. They've got gifts. They actually miss you.

And I want you to realize something... while some people did give up and leave while you were shut-in from the rest of the world, there are people waiting still. And you are not a burden. They willingly want to be there with you. They actually wantyou. It may not be who you expected. It may not be who you want to even let in right now. I mean, you don't really want to let anyone in right now, so try not to overthink it.

You are not a burden. And anyone who continuously makes you feel like a burden is toxic to your health. I know you're going to try to prove yourself to them. You want to make them see that you aren't a burden and that you have worth. But if you continue to surround yourself with these toxic friends and family members, and even significant others, you will find yourself here again. You know this.

We don't think straight during this time and somehow everybody and all things become our enemies, but you aren't a hostile person. You aren't cruel. You aren't as selfish as you are coming across as in this season. You aren't who depression makes you out to be. If you are like the numbers of depressed people I know, you love deeply and you feel deeply... and you never intend to fall this deep into heartache, apathy, and darkness.

You're generally a pretty great friend, so be a friend to yourself in this season. Let your friends' kind words become pieces of a ladder that you climb to get out of this pit. Let those to whom this letter is addressed become the ones you invite into your home to help you remove the boards, fill in the nail holes, and repaint with you.

Because here's the thing: You have worth and beauty no matter what your broken brain or the darkness tells you. You have a purpose. There is hope. You were created to reflect glory back onto your Creator. Nobody can see the good if you hide yourself in fear of them seeing the bad.

Pain doesn't have to be the lens through which you're viewing your reality. Loneliness doesn't have to be your means to provide stability and security. You won't be in this state forever. You won't be depressed for forever. It's just a season. It's just a page of a chapter on the story being written with your life. And you may be depressed again.

But we can work together to find resources and healthy coping strategies towards health. You won't make it alone. So take down the boards. Share this with friends and family. Ask someone to break into your walls and force you to let them love you if you have to. Find what works. You are stronger than you believe and you are more successful that you give yourself credit for: because you have stared this thing in the face and conquered it before and you will again.

To my friends and family: I need help. If I don't open my doors to you, then I need somebody to break in. I need to be reminded I'm not a burden. I need you to help me practically find purpose and hope. Let's make a list of what's good for me and what's bad for me. I need to get out of the house. I may not be ready to be around a lot of people, so be patient. But I need help getting out of this house, taking the boards down, patching up the nail holes, repainting, and cleaning up this mess I've made. Will you help me?

To my depressed peers: You need to know this: I'm proud of you for asking for help. You should be celebrated more than you are for the battles you fight in secret. You are not a burden. You are a warrior. I don't know the strength you possess, but I know it's deep. You love deeply. You feel deeply. And right now, you're showing loads of courage for letting others see your wounds... no matter how infected and gross they may be right now. Healing begins when you stop pretending that your broken body will get better on its own. If you haven't been told this lately... hear it now. You're not alone. You're not without hope. You are a gift. You have worth. You may have failed, but, friend, you are not a failure. Success is marked by your choice to not give up. Everybody cannot see your invisible battle, but that doesn't negate your strength or victory.