Crazy Club

Posted by Maralise | May 10, 2007 | 22 Comments

I have Depression. I think depression is like alcoholism, that no matter how “clean” I am today or yesterday or the last few months, I still “have” it. It looms, knows, waits, affects my decisions, and makes me into someone different than I thought I would be.

My mother has never said the “word” to me. Neither has my father or my brothers and sister. My husband has a hard time saying it. “I heard you were struggling. How are you doing now?” As if depression lifts like a flu or a cold.

When my oldest was about two years-old, my neighbor called and simply said, “I’m sick. Can you come and get my little girl?” And I thought her “sickness” was temporary, that medicine and therapy could solve it. She acted like she was cured a few months later. Now that I have experienced depression, I wonder if she was “cured.” I wonder if there is a cure.

When I hear women share their stories of depression, I feel an instant kinship with them. The dark thoughts that seem totally absurd to a sane individual are what bind us together. And we hold each other’s secrets “that will not be named.” So when I see a new mom holding her beautiful baby, or a new widower, or someone in a stressful family situation, I look for it. I search their eyes as if to say, do you? Me too. Can I help? Knowing that my offers of help are only platitudes; that depression is something that we must face alone.

I suffer from depression. And so do many of my friends. And family members. And many of the people in my church. And although I know depression feels like a solitary disease, there are many of us who face it. Are we alone? Yes. And. No.

You see, there’s this great club. You should join. It’s free. You learn empathy and patience, humility, and long suffering. You learn to love yourself even at your worst and sometimes, just sometimes, you make lifelong friends, trusted companions who learn your secrets and you grow. Together.

Category: Daily Special

Comments

22 Responses to “Crazy Club”

glenda
May 10th, 2007 @ 8:43 am

Depression is real. It’s roots are deep and may not be shaken free, at least completely not. It’s like a cancer that may go into remission and we know may surface at anytime, anywhere. My oldest once said to me, “Mom, you’ve got to learn to love yourself.” I looked back at her in the eyes and replied, “I don’t know how.”

Over the years I’ve missed many women’s activities and socials, women’s conferences and even leaving early from church so that I didn’t have to attend R.S. meeting. All because I felt I was not good enough and that I didn’t deserve to be able to go.

Today, I know the seeds are still there and occassionally they sprout and surface but I am more aware of them now. I do not let these destructive weeds grow so big that they hide the “flowers” in my mind.

I have learned that quiet blocks of time need to be filled with good music, scripture or other reading, physical activity, service or being creative. I cannot allow my mind to be idle. Another thing I do is I have a private scrapbook that no one else sees. It is filled with thank you notes and other messages from people that I have helped at some time. I’m not patting myself on my back, but realizing the worth I do have.

I am a Child of God. I know that and it makes me smile to know He loves me. And I do what I can to please Him. And one of those things is, to love myself.
Sue
May 10th, 2007 @ 10:30 am

I am so in. I have been in the depression club for as long as I can remember. I often feel like I am sinking, but I also often feel like I am doing an okay job staying afloat. I always wonder if people can tell I’m crazy when they look at me. I try to remain normal looking on the outside, but so many days I feel dead on the inside. “Looms” is the perfect word, I never know how I will feel in a week or two, making it nearly impossible to make plans, which makes me very nervous, which makes me feel even more abnormal, which continues to confirm my craziness. I am doing the best I can, I hope it is enough.
LAGirrrl
May 10th, 2007 @ 12:34 pm

I used to struggle with depression (like for 25 years) and can really get a sense of it being evoked by situations more than anything else, but none the less, I’m a charter member. As of 9/11 I’m also bilingual in the language of anxiety, depressions spinning sister. Anxiety is a whole lot different from depression but I like the meds that treat it a lot better. I’m not afraid of depression as I once was. Anxiety is my new nemesis. I wouldn’t trade it though, cuz anxiety doesn’t bring up thoughts of suiciding or suffering alone. People understand anxiety a little more, cuz everyone knows what feeling really, really, overwhelmed is like. Thanks for sharing your feelings here. I’m not sure if I upgraded or graduated but I’m prepared to love myself either way.
Kristen
May 10th, 2007 @ 12:55 pm

I know what you mean about saying “the word.” Sometimes I wonder why there is such a stigma attached to depression. It is a medical condition, yet so many fail to recognize that. Perhaps because it has been medically misunderstood for so many decades?

My mother has had chronic depression since I was about 6. The type that usually lands the woman in an institution for life. Hers is extremely severe. It has only been in the last 10 years of my life that I feel I have even an inkling of what she goes through on a daily basis.

Although I have never personally struggled with depression, I can empathize with you, Mara, having been raised by a mother who felt completely and utterly alone, and who wished and prayed that someday she could be the person “that she really was.”
susan
May 10th, 2007 @ 1:51 pm

Last time I checked Mary Magdalene had seven devils. I’m pretty sure at least one of those devils was depression. (How could you not be depressed with seven devils inside of you?)

Anyway, she and Jesus were great friends. Depression happens to great people but it took me a long time to figure out I hadn’t done something “wrong”. It seems particularly hard to feel the Spirit when the darkness of depression is hanging so heavy. But, I’m still trying to be good friends with the Savior too. It has certainly taught me to be a bit more compassionate with others.
c jane
May 10th, 2007 @ 3:32 pm

I like what Susan just said about the devil of depression–that is exactly how I feel. One morning I will wake-up and there will be two of us, me and the visiting big “D” as my family has named him.(Apparently depression is masculine.)I just try not to feed him, and after awhile he goes away. The annoying thing is, he always comes back when I am not expecting it.
Maralise, great topic. We should start a support group called Depressed Mormon Women Who Have Hope. (That is a working title.)
Ashley
May 10th, 2007 @ 5:46 pm

There should also be a club for people who love or are close to those with depression. I could be the president. I would stand up and say:

I don’t understand depression. I don’t understand why she just won’t get up out of bed. Do something, ANYTHING!!! Just don’t sit in bed, waiting to die.

It seems like a selfish disease.
And I don’t understand how to help, wait maybe I am the selfish one?
LAGirrrl
May 10th, 2007 @ 8:09 pm

From your comments, I don’t think you could help.
Sharlee
May 10th, 2007 @ 9:45 pm

LAGirrl (and others), what are your suggestions for how someone might best help a loved-one who is suffering from serious depression? I have a dear friend who is battling this right now, and I feel so helpless. My heart aches for her, but, apart from listening and otherwise “being there” for her, I don’t know what else to do. I suspect she needs medication, but she’s completely opposed to the idea.

Help?
Kathryn Soper
May 10th, 2007 @ 10:05 pm

I don’t think there’s anything else to do, Sharlee, other than avoiding judgment, which I’m sure you do your utmost to avoid.

I think that people who are frustrated because of a depressed person’s condition should consider trying to jettison their own need to be a fixer. When someone is hurting, it’s wonderful to want to help. But sometimes the question isn’t “how can I make it better,” but “how can I avoid making it worse?” or “how can I come to peace with my own impotence?”

Depression often initiates a vicious cycle. The symptoms of the illness make it incredibly guilty to take steps toward treatment. Exhaustion, irrational thinking, unwarranted guilt– these states of being preclude action that could bring healing. Downward spirals are common because of this.

I’ve had depression my whole life. I resisted medication because I had thoughts like Ashley’s–I thought I was causing the problem for myself, and if I only had a scrap of willpower I could solve the problem myself. Finally I got to the point where I was in so much pain, I knew I was dying, figuratively, and perhaps literally. What enabled me to turn the corner was the conviction that God did not want me to die. It was only that thought–God wants me to live–that enabled me to turn a corner and seek help. I now take medication, and I am incredibly grateful that I can now live a functional life.

I understand how easy it is to judge people with depression. I’ve judged others, and I’ve even judged myself. But I can assure anyone who is frustrated with a depressed person of this fact: it’s not fun. We are not lazy teenagers who just don’t want to get out of bed. Try to give people a little credit.
maralise
May 11th, 2007 @ 8:45 am

Sharlee and Ashley– At my worst, I am unable to act on suggestions (even well-intentioned ones). And often those who want to help (hubby included, sadly enough) often left me feeling even more alienated because their suggestions were logical and easy. I knew that they were logical and easy and yet I still couldn’t do them, I had a very difficult time taking action and FEELING that any action was possible, let easy. Haunting loneliness characterized my depression and the offers of help often only cemented that state for me.

However, what I ALWAYS responded to was empathy. No matter how illogical I became, I always felt loved (sometimes even understod) when someone said, “I’m so sorry” or “I love you.”

It’s very difficult dealing with a depressed person. Often, we’re biting and mean, lethargic and apathetic. A depressed person’s partner, family, and loved ones do not often come out of the darkness unscathed.

So, my suggestions for the families/support people of someone who is depressed is to express your empathy, your sympathy, your love, and protect yourself from giving too much. Keep yourself healthy. Give enough so that you don’t feel guilty but not so much that you feel resentful. The role as a support person is vital for the health of the family especially when there are children involved (even if you are unable to help the depressed person).

Azar Nafisi in her memoir “Reading Lolita in Tehran” quotes the poet John Shade in Nabakov’s “Pale Fire” when he says, “Pity is the Password.”

Indeed, for me, pity was the password for those who were able to “help.” And lack of pity (empathy) was the most destructive weapon for those who not only didn’t help, but ended up hurting me as well.
texasgal
May 11th, 2007 @ 8:46 am

My aunt takes meds and is completely functional. When she quits the meds, she gets divorced, quits the church, runs away from home, etc. Then she says, “gee, maybe I need my pills” and everything’s wonderful again. Back in the marriage, back in the church, back to the rich life we see her happy in. I’m no doctor, but I would say those meds are pretty great.

Cjane I liked your approach, try not to feed him and he goes away. I think we undervalue the daily things like music, friends, excersise, prayer, outdoors, pets, meditation, service, play, touch, creativity, etc. Those things are powerful anti-depressants and combined with avoiding “triggers” I think many people can manage their ups and downs without becoming debilitated.

It reminds me of a friend who did crafts feindishly. I joked her about this, and she said “Its cheaper than a psychologist”. Hey whatever works! I liked that she found and outlet and let herself use it. Obviously, a hobby isn’t going to save everyone, but as part of a combined approach, or part of a preventative campaign, I think these simple approaches have real value and should be priorities for “Mormon Women who Have Hope”.
Kathryn Soper
May 11th, 2007 @ 9:04 am

A few things–

I want to underscore Maralise’s comments about the difficulty of living with a person with depression. I’ve experienced that too. And that’s no fun either. It’s a trial just as significant as depression itself, if you ask me.

Also–there are many degrees of depression. Mild depression can respond well to distraction or “starving.” It’s important, though, not to assume that such measures can significantly help in more severe cases. It’s kinda like, eating well will help anyone feel relatively better, and if you’ve got a little cold or you’re lethargic it might make a marked difference, but if you’ve got terminal cancer–well, don’t expect nutrition to save the day.

Finally, I want to thank every person who tries their best to show love to a depressed person. Sharlee, I’m glad your friend has you.
b.
May 11th, 2007 @ 10:10 am

I think talking about it is most helpful. Knowing I’m not alone, or hearing others express the same thoughts I have had floating around in my head, hearing how others handle it helps.
My suggestion for those who aren’t members of this crazy club–stay out of judgement. If I COULD not be this way, I WOULD not. And thank you, really, a lot.
The cost for membership is high, and I’m a member whether I like it or not.
LAGirrrl
May 11th, 2007 @ 1:17 pm

A lot of wonderful points above. If you were a caregiver to a parapalegic you would give them much space, energy and limitless understanding. Now imagine the depression as a missing limb, a head injury causing confusion, forgetfulness, or a virus that requires the body to sleep days on end. It is all of those things and more.

Caregivers are miracle workers in that they have to be smart enough to refill their own source of light to continue to be able to share. I’ve had many people help me on the way, and I do mean many. I worked HARD trying to get healthy. I’m fully back on my feet and there are a lot of the people that helped me that have dropped off and I have to accept that is a part of their giving as well. Some cannot fully understand the illness or they are wise enough to know their limits when it comes to supporting one who is suffering mental illness.

An MD once said the hardest thing in treating depression is to keep a patient on their meds. It’s so easy to feel a false sense of security and it is honorable to attempt to be whole minus the aide of meds, but it truly does backfire. My doctor says that if you’ve been a candidate for meds 3xs that you should most likely stay on them for a lifetime. Accepting that about myself has really allowed me much freedom in accepting this as the illness it is.

No one likes to feel like they are being taken advantage of and the shame of needing people is so humbling. Those situations marry and cause a lot of dark thoughts on top of existing fear and shame. It is not easy being or being with the depressed, we know that. It is embarassing to know you may never be stable again, or to know you could relapse and be branded with a hurtful title. It is a tedious tightrope walk for all of us.

That is the gift and the deepening of the soul.
Kristen
May 11th, 2007 @ 4:30 pm

I’m humbled at the kind and compassionate responses that were given in answer to some judgmental comments. This is such an important discussion to be having—-the very act of dialogue about depression reveals that there are layers upon layers of misunderstanding and hard feelings and resentment towards depression. Both from those who have it, and those who live with, or are close to, those who suffer from it.

It is so important to treat with fairness the things that we don’t understand. Once, I started to write a personal essay about growing up with my mother’s depression. A wise mentor told me that until I could treat it fairly, I shouldn’t write about it. That was so hard to hear…because I felt like what was fair was sharing my feelings about feeling deprived of a “normal” and more loving childhood. I felt like it was fair to share how I had felt lonely for so long. I had not felt like I was attacking or blaming my mother in any way…but now, years after that writing attempt, I can see that I was viewing depression through my own lens, which was horribly discolored.

Ironically, while I have compassion on my mother’s depression, I blame my older brother for his depression, in some ways, because he appears to be trying a lot less than my mother did. So, I feel similarly to Ashley. I want to scream at him to DO something. But he won’t. After one suicide attempt, I fear another one is coming. The helpless I feel creates an enormous amount of anger that is almost uncontrollable at times.
cheryl
May 11th, 2007 @ 5:03 pm

I have had PPD three times. I have never been diagnosed, though, so I’m not sure it can be warranted.

And is it just PPD? I always wonder –are my other non-pregnancy/nursing emotional explosions just PMS related? Or do I have something deeper?
Anonymous
May 12th, 2007 @ 1:51 am

I have so much pent up inside me about that subject. I feel at liberty to talk about my own ppd and another bout with regular depression–which I did not realize I had had until it was over, but I also have experienced living with someone with serious depression and I wish I could talk about that more freely.

My experience has been this. Depression is like living in a black hole. Living with someone who is depressed can be like living with a black hole. The worst part is that usually that person has no idea that his or her depression affects the rest of the family. I will never forget the look of complete astonishment on my spouse’s face when I finally told him that his depression affected me too. And as I saw it get worse and affect our kids more noticeably I realized I had to talk frankly about depression with them so they would know that the things going on with our family were not at all their fault.

As much as I mourn the things I feel I have lost or still lack because of the effects of depression, I am grateful that I have suffered from it myself. It helps me understand the reality and the realness of it. I wish those people who find it so easy to judge and who say “Snap out of it” could walk a mile in any of our shoes so they would know this is not something we choose.

God bless all of you. It is not an easy path. And unlike the rallying around I wiitness when someone is diagnosed with a more physical and less mental and emotional issue, this path is usually walked very much alone.
j5t
May 12th, 2007 @ 9:10 am

The comparison to alcoholism is interesting, as alcoholism is rampant in my family, so I’m well aware that you are an alcoholic even if you haven’t had a drink in twenty years.

Regarding depression, I find myself in a peculiar situation in that, for the first time in almost seven years, I am “balanced” — I’m not on meds, and I feel fine, even great. But having been there makes me wary that it’s around the corner, and how long will it last then?
annegb
August 6th, 2007 @ 9:09 am

I’m in. Barb sent me this link. I hate not having the time or energy to keep up with my blogging.

I’m fairly certain that if I don’t improve, my doctor will recommend the psyche unit. I avoided it last year by a hair, by my husband making all kinds of promises.

I never thought of it as a disease, I thought of it as a weakness, a shortcoming and I hated myself even more when I couldn’t get up or focus. Now I’m starting to recognize it for what it is, a true illness.

I don’t like having it, I hate it. I hate what it does to my family. I hate that I’m not as productive as I wish to be.

#12, I do that, I get screwed up and remember that I need to take care of myself if I want to survive.

#7 Ashley, I don’t take offense at your comments. I think they’re totally valid. I feel sorry for my husband and my kids, it can’t be easy for them. I try to do as much as I can to avert any impact on them. But the fact is sometimes I need care more than I need to give care. I hate it, but if I don’t accept and honor that, I’m no good to anyone.

My doctor commented that I was very talkative last time I went to him and I told him that I’m always talkative no matter my mood (some of you know that already . I can fake it and hide it pretty well.
When I attempted suicide last year, many people were downright shocked. Because even in the midst of complete despair, I can make a joke. I can laugh and make other people laugh.

I’m still going for the right medicine, Cymbalta has been a lifesavewr, but my doctor wants me to try another “lifesaver.”

You guys, this is not joke. It’s real. And it’s real for everyone, the caregiver as well as the ill person. I know my husband has been through hell.

I think we should make an official club. Maybe we could do a daily gratitude list. I ried that once with a couple of bloggers who are my friends and we were so depresssed we forgot! LOL.

Good post.

What I’m learning is that I can’t hide FROM it.
Wendy
August 6th, 2007 @ 10:15 am

THANK YOU for this post and all of your comments. I wasn’t paying enough attention to Segullah when this was first written. I have had depression to various degrees off and on over the years. I hate that it feels like such a taboo subject. I love that you all have been so honest. I am gratefully heading out of a doozy right now, and it feels like Gloria Estefan’s “Coming Out of the Dark.”

Someday I hope that this weakness can be made a strength, but I wonder if it’s like Paul’s “thorn in the flesh”–something to keep me humble, to “bring me to my knees.”
Barb
August 7th, 2007 @ 9:21 pm

Since my friend, Annegb has joined, I want in as well. My depression can seem so far removed from me when I am feeling well. I am so glad that I have hope.

Wendy, it sounds like life is looking up for you. Breathe in the fresh air!