Trying to WHOLLY describe depression to people on the outside is just futile. That's why, when I talk about it, people always remark how calm and unmoved I am as tell them I was tortured by depression for a decade straight. The reason is that it doesn't matter what I say, or how I say it. If I break down crying, or I scream, it doesn't even begin to quantify it. It doesn't DO anything.
Even the name depression shows that people don't have a clue. Go Google depression, and pick a site on the topic. There will inevitably be a list of symptoms. Almost always, there will one that says something like, "persistence of feeling blue, inability to get over the blues, feeling down." (mimes shooting self in face) Feeling blue eh? I don't think so. You feel blue when your baby leaves you for a banjo player named Hopper. Blue has life in it, color, vibrance, emotion. You feel blue when you drop your ice cream.
All of that was incredibly long-winded intro to say that I want to try to break down and verbalize the pain of depression. Note the word TRY.
One of the most unique qualities of the pain of depression is that it (almost) completely lacks poetry. Here is what I mean. In life, though we don't like pain, pain tells us about who we are and what we love. At least once a week I cry because I miss my grandfather. It hurts me to imagine my life without him. It seems almost impossible that it could even carry on without his presence (see, I am crying right now as I write about it). Thing is, I treasure that pain. That pain screams of my love for my grandfather. There is a sweetness to it. I would be horrified if I didn't have it. Imagine how terrible it would be if the girl or guy you love left and you didn't hurt over it. What would be your thought? It would be that you didn't really love them, wouldn't it? If you can be okay without them, then you must not need them. It is that pain that screams our affections to us.
In depression, at least in its most harsh forms, that is all gone. This is a paradox, but one of the most painful things was that everything is lost. My emotions of love died within me. You cannot even begin to imagine what it is like to one day have this switch flipped inside you. One day I am with the girl I love, and I cannot barely see anything but her, she so fills my heart, the next day I cannot feel her presence at all. I feel nothing. Nothing has changed in my conscious self! Yet, my love is gone. I reach down into the tank and it is empty.
In depression, people would leave, and my heart was unmoved, people died, and I was unmoved, people got angry at me, and I was unmoved in my heart. All the while, I am screaming inside myself to wake up! Wake up! Wake up! At times, when I was alone, I would pound my chest, as if that would somehow wake up my heart, or I would shake my head violently as if doing so would somehow knock loose whatever was blocking my brain. No, I didn't think they would work. I understand anatomy. But, I was desperate beyond words, and had nothing to lose but my last thread of hope and sanity.
Depression is not blue, in my mind, it is grey. Black and white are too perfect, too dynamic in their own right. Grey is colorless, drab, and not dynamic. Grey like ashes, burnt of all the energy and life held inside. The pain is simply there. It has no poetry. It doesn't scream of your affections. It doesn't tell you who you are. It tells you that you no longer are. You are a dead person walking, people just don't know it yet. After a while you start to believe that the pain you now feel, the uncontrollable negativity, the numbness, the pure evil, is reality. That wonderful life you had before was just a momentary illusion.
Yet, you are still breathing. You are still breathing because you hope beyond hope that you are wrong. And you want to know something cool. You are. You are wrong. Your hope is founded. The pain of depression is the anomaly, not the other way around. There is poetry in life. And, while there is no poetry to be had while in depression, once you are out, once you are free, there will be SO much poetry in it looking back. You will have an understanding of life others won't even fathom. You will be so grateful it will blow your mind. Everything else will seem easy, not period, but in comparison to what you have come through.
I say this as someone who battled severe depression for over ten years straight. That is ten years without poetry, without cause, without anything but the slightest hope beyond hope. I never thought it would end. I thought I would be thus forever. Praise God! I was wrong. My heart is alive, and yours can too. Just keep breathing. Keep breathing, and hope beyond hope. Open your eyes and see that depression can end.
To those of you reading this who aren't depressed. Thank you for reading and opening your heart to understanding. If you are reading this, that probably means someone you love is suffering. Keep it up. Keep telling them it will be okay. You have no idea much those words mean coming from a loved one, especially if you really believe it.
My heart and affection go out to you all. I am praying right now that you would be encouraged, and would cling to hope, that you would fight this awful hell with grace and courage. Write me if you want. I am here.
OH! One more thing. I made it to where anyone can comment. No need to log in or anything. Just type it in.
Even the name depression shows that people don't have a clue. Go Google depression, and pick a site on the topic. There will inevitably be a list of symptoms. Almost always, there will one that says something like, "persistence of feeling blue, inability to get over the blues, feeling down." (mimes shooting self in face) Feeling blue eh? I don't think so. You feel blue when your baby leaves you for a banjo player named Hopper. Blue has life in it, color, vibrance, emotion. You feel blue when you drop your ice cream.
All of that was incredibly long-winded intro to say that I want to try to break down and verbalize the pain of depression. Note the word TRY.
One of the most unique qualities of the pain of depression is that it (almost) completely lacks poetry. Here is what I mean. In life, though we don't like pain, pain tells us about who we are and what we love. At least once a week I cry because I miss my grandfather. It hurts me to imagine my life without him. It seems almost impossible that it could even carry on without his presence (see, I am crying right now as I write about it). Thing is, I treasure that pain. That pain screams of my love for my grandfather. There is a sweetness to it. I would be horrified if I didn't have it. Imagine how terrible it would be if the girl or guy you love left and you didn't hurt over it. What would be your thought? It would be that you didn't really love them, wouldn't it? If you can be okay without them, then you must not need them. It is that pain that screams our affections to us.
In depression, at least in its most harsh forms, that is all gone. This is a paradox, but one of the most painful things was that everything is lost. My emotions of love died within me. You cannot even begin to imagine what it is like to one day have this switch flipped inside you. One day I am with the girl I love, and I cannot barely see anything but her, she so fills my heart, the next day I cannot feel her presence at all. I feel nothing. Nothing has changed in my conscious self! Yet, my love is gone. I reach down into the tank and it is empty.
In depression, people would leave, and my heart was unmoved, people died, and I was unmoved, people got angry at me, and I was unmoved in my heart. All the while, I am screaming inside myself to wake up! Wake up! Wake up! At times, when I was alone, I would pound my chest, as if that would somehow wake up my heart, or I would shake my head violently as if doing so would somehow knock loose whatever was blocking my brain. No, I didn't think they would work. I understand anatomy. But, I was desperate beyond words, and had nothing to lose but my last thread of hope and sanity.
Depression is not blue, in my mind, it is grey. Black and white are too perfect, too dynamic in their own right. Grey is colorless, drab, and not dynamic. Grey like ashes, burnt of all the energy and life held inside. The pain is simply there. It has no poetry. It doesn't scream of your affections. It doesn't tell you who you are. It tells you that you no longer are. You are a dead person walking, people just don't know it yet. After a while you start to believe that the pain you now feel, the uncontrollable negativity, the numbness, the pure evil, is reality. That wonderful life you had before was just a momentary illusion.
Yet, you are still breathing. You are still breathing because you hope beyond hope that you are wrong. And you want to know something cool. You are. You are wrong. Your hope is founded. The pain of depression is the anomaly, not the other way around. There is poetry in life. And, while there is no poetry to be had while in depression, once you are out, once you are free, there will be SO much poetry in it looking back. You will have an understanding of life others won't even fathom. You will be so grateful it will blow your mind. Everything else will seem easy, not period, but in comparison to what you have come through.
I say this as someone who battled severe depression for over ten years straight. That is ten years without poetry, without cause, without anything but the slightest hope beyond hope. I never thought it would end. I thought I would be thus forever. Praise God! I was wrong. My heart is alive, and yours can too. Just keep breathing. Keep breathing, and hope beyond hope. Open your eyes and see that depression can end.
To those of you reading this who aren't depressed. Thank you for reading and opening your heart to understanding. If you are reading this, that probably means someone you love is suffering. Keep it up. Keep telling them it will be okay. You have no idea much those words mean coming from a loved one, especially if you really believe it.
My heart and affection go out to you all. I am praying right now that you would be encouraged, and would cling to hope, that you would fight this awful hell with grace and courage. Write me if you want. I am here.
OH! One more thing. I made it to where anyone can comment. No need to log in or anything. Just type it in.
With your permission, I would like to stage a work that visualizes your essays. This is something that would be wonderful to have in our "Suite Faith" ministry repertoire.
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