This is also available as a podcast here: https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/s-p01/episodes/Depression-e2knte0

Let’s talk about it. I am not myself when I’m depressed. I don’t think any one of us feels “ourselves” when we’re depressed. If anything, I feel like the worst version of myself. That’s why it’s so dark. That’s why it holds us back. If all the worst aspects of your person were on display in great twinkling lights before you 24/7, you wouldn’t be your best, either. People describe it like a great big cloud hanging over their head. Or, like a ball and chain they’re dragging around with them. My way of describing my experiences with depression is more akin to the cloud, but it’s not really a cloud. It’s simultaneously feeling like my mind has been frozen in time, locked on one moment (often connected to other moments), in tunnel vision while also feeling like I cannot access all the parts of my brain because the fog is too thick inside my skull. How do you find a way out when all there is before you is darkness?

For this post, my goal is more to help those of you with depression feel seen. I will tell you of my journey out of it, but I really want to validate that it is real. If you haven’t had depression to the point where it caused harm to your life; then you are managing it. Not everyone can on their own. Some of us need help to manage it. Most of us try to do it alone before we ever seek help. The stigma may be lifting, but it’s still hard to admit we need help. It took many blows before I found my way out with help. I wish I’d seen it sooner; I think we all wish we’d seen it sooner.

I’m someone who appears to not have depression; on the surface. I’m exceptionally competent and I nearly always get my “work” done. Where my depression harms my life is in my relationships and my ability to keep up with housework and errands. In my classroom, I doubt my students ever suspected me of depression – but it was there. What I was able to do was keep it from affecting me in the classroom, but that doesn’t mean it wasn’t there in all the other aspects of my life. I always prioritized work for my energy; whatever I could muster went to keeping up “appearances” through my achievements. But, just because that is an aspect of my life that was able to continue, that doesn’t mean it wasn’t affected.

I love teaching. I love math. I love dance. But, at my most depressed? I lose interest in all of them. I stop caring about them in ways that go against some of my core values. My teaching started to get affected in the relationship that became my second marriage. My interest in research was affected, and my joy in dance was affected. I’ve mentioned before that I fell into relationships that always caused me to be another person’s version of myself. The more I repressed my true self to be who they wanted me to be, the more depressed I became.

I have so much fun in my classroom. I get excited, I jump around, spin around, wave my hands around excitedly. I love teaching. But, over the years it became more and more “going through the motions” because I didn’t feel like myself and my joy was decaying. After my child was born, I began to reclaim myself. I will forever be grateful for the friends in my life at that time and the rebirth of myself that came from becoming a parent. I found my love of teaching again, and my rapport with my students is better than ever. I feel good about my teaching again, and I love it.

Completing a PhD is a bit of a depressing experience. It’s a consistent head-bashing of failures until you get to something that works. Sometimes that takes years. I took seven years to complete my PhD. Seven. Years. That’s a large chunk of my life. Granted, there was a similar depressive period in there with my first husband. I regained my motivation then in a similar way when we became physically separated, but still married. That led to our divorce. So, when I thought about doing research, the depression was attached to the research like a parasite. I managed to complete another paper, but it drained me thoroughly. I changed what I was researching because I had to rid the parasite before I could see my research without the depression. I can now, and all I can say is that I wish I had more time – for all the things I want to do in this life – because my research is still pending more time to work on it.

Dance is my lifeline. A surefire way to bring on depression, for me, is to stop dancing. So, I get into a feedback loop: less dancing leads to depression, but also depression leads to less dancing. I have to tread carefully when it comes to my time and ensuring that I dance “enough” to keep moving forward. We know that exercise helps with depression, but if someone made me run on a treadmill for that exercise… I don’t think I would be better. Every one of us has a “thing” that will motivate us to exercise. For me, that’s music, through dance. I feel the music, and I dance. The art of the expression and the connection to the music fill my soul and benefit my body. Without it, I wouldn’t be me – I would just be depressed.

These things that I love are all different keys to finding my way out of depression. They’re mine. I hope they help you find yours. I tried medications in undergrad, and had experiences bad enough to decide that I was “better off” without any medications. It didn’t mean that the problem was gone, nor did it mean that I wasn’t depressed. It just meant that the solutions I had tried didn’t work for me. Therapy helped a lot, but it wasn’t enough. Therapy kept me afloat enough to keep going, but it didn’t make me “better.” Therapy gives us tools for processing and growing in ways that help us manage ourselves, but it doesn’t always fix the underlying depression. I finally hit a wall and had to find a solution in the fallout of my second divorce. I’ll write about that next, it’s called TMS (Transcranial Magnetic Stimulation.)

My story this week is about a friend of mine, and how they stood apart when I was depressed.

I rarely mention my depression. That is partially due to stigma, but it’s also because “no one wants to hear about my depression.” People, in general, don’t know how to respond to someone who is depressed. It’s a constant dance on eggshells; they’re trying to nimble their way around them, but sometimes we just need a friend who acknowledges they’re there. This is one of those friends.

This is a friend I’ve known since high school. It’s like we couldn’t escape each other after he graduated. We ran into each other in random places, and he occasionally came by the school. I think he’s the first person who ever really pursued and embraced me. He’s enthusiastic and kind, an amazing human that built me up when I was down, for as long as I’ve known him. He’s one of the few people in this world that I feel like he cares for me more than I care for him, and I honestly feel bad for that – I want it to feel at least equal, but it doesn’t.

Now, we’re Facebook friends. Obviously, the relationship feels deeper than that, but we haven’t seen each other in at least 10 years. I posted something vague about my depression one day on Facebook, and he responded in a way that stood out from everyone else. A lot of people wanted to be reassuring, but came off minimizing. Some people even spent their responses telling me how hurt they were by my depression. But he just checked in and asked me questions about how I was feeling. It felt caring and concerned, but best of all: it felt nonjudgemental.

He didn’t just check in one day and then go back to “normal.” He randomly kept checking in. He sent me silly things on YouTube. He shared things that he remembered or reminded me of him. He made me feel like someone he values having in his life. Depression saps me of my value, so he reinforced my value when I was feeling low. He showed up, listened, and supported me. He stepped up in the way that I needed when I was depressed. We all need that sometimes. Thank goodness for those friends.

I hope you get the validation and support that you need.

Hugs, -S.