Depression Roundtable, Part II: Depression and Spirituality
Posted by Kathryn Soper | March 7, 2010 | 35 Comments
Welcome to Part II of Segullah’s UP CLOSE series about depression. Part I can be found here. If you haven’t already read the series overview, please do so before proceeding.
Priscilla: I was 27 when I had my third child and first post partum depression. At least, that what I thought it was, so I read books and did what they said – eat right, exercise, meditate, play — but the depression never lifted. That was 25 years ago.
I have always been resistant to trying medication, even though depression is clearly a genetic thing in my family and my mother, sister, and daughter (that third child) all use anti-depressants. I have tried some at times and once it was a real life-saver, as it pulled me up into functional mode, but then it seemed to lose effectiveness, and rather than keep switching up drugs, I opted for a homeopathic approach. I’ve been using this for 2 years and I think it is working to keep me stable. The past 2 years have also been a period of major spiritual transition, involving much loss and grief as well as much promise of joy. It is always hard for me to separate out the factors of depresssion: which triggers are circumstantial, which chemical? I have always been able to function and do what I’ve committed to do, but that seems to take more and more effort.
The main reason I have resisted drug therapy is because I am afraid it will stunt my spiritual gifts. Over the years, I have watched how I turn instinctively to Jesus when I’m hurting, And he always responds. So much so that now, after all these years of dealing with depression by relying on Jesus, I really do walk with him daily and live in and for his precious promises. I may be wrong and there may have been an easier path, but for me, this prize is worth the pain. . . . I’m not sure I’m saying this well. I’m treading on sacred ground here and finding the words is hard. But in my mind, whether it’s true or not, I believe — and have always believed — that the depression itself brings gifts of eternal worth. When I am deep in sorrow, I think of Christ, the Man of Sorrows, and I am comforted.
Abigail: I can only speak from my own experience, but this is what I’ve noticed in my own journey through depression: When I’ve been in the deep throes of clinical depression, I find it’s much more difficult for me to feel the Spirit. I think it goes along with the feelings of isolation and unworthiness that come with being depressed, but that darkness, for me, seems to keep me from feeling close to the Lord, even though I am crying out in my extremity. I pray, but it feels like my prayers make it no further than my lips. Rationally, I know He is there and that He loves me, but I feel unlovable and unworthy, and I can’t feel that love emotionally. On rare occasions I have felt the quiet whisperings of the Spirit and moments of peace during my prayers, but most of the time when I’m depressed, when my mind is racing and I feel so hopeless, I think it’s difficult for the Spirit to get through to me. I’ve noticed, however, that my answers to prayer in those desperate moments seem to come through other avenues–reading that magazine article on depression and recognizing myself in the article, for example, or being the recipient of small acts of kindness that let me know that I matter. Later, when I’m starting to feel more rational and am coming out of the depression, I can see that the Lord was always with me and was answering my prayers, but it was hard to feel that at the time. And I haven’t felt that taking antidepressants has impeded my ability to feel the Spirit–often it’s quite the opposite.
I’ve noticed that during this most recent bout of depression–which I think has been going on for the past year–I have been able to feel closer to the Lord–not in my most desperate moments, but when I am able to quiet the racing thoughts in my head and be still and ponder and pray with more focus and energy–and I’ve felt my sorrows have had a refining and purifying element to them that I hadn’t previously felt until after the depression was lifting. So I’ve actually felt that my sorrows have been consecrated for my good this time, and I’ve been able to feel the Lord’s love and comfort. But that may be because I’m taking an antidepressant now (although I think I need to increase my dosage, because I’m still depressed)–it’s as if the medication is taking the edge off, so my depression isn’t as severe, but it’s still there. And maybe that’s what is keeping me from feeling like I’m at the very depths of despair, when I can’t feel the Spirit at all.
That’s how it’s been for me, but it may be different for the rest of you.
Euodias: I feel similar to Abigail. However, I know when I was really depressed as a teen I thought that I was experiencing more personal revelation, etc. In reality, it was a symptom of the depression. I too have worried that medication will make my senses dull or curb my creativity. But that has not been my experience while on medication.
I know my sister who is bipolar has felt while in a manic episode that medication would make it so she couldn’t experience everything she was enjoying experiencing at the time; however when she is on her meds, she knows she can think much more clearly because of them.
Priscilla: Thanks, Abigail, for sharing. I think your experience is common; so many say that it’s hard to feel the Spirit when they’re deep in depression. Which is why it’s so difficult for me to figure this out for myself, because I don’t really relate to that common experience. When I am feeling good, I feel more distant from God, in a way. Certainly, I feel grateful and I love feeling productive and I am surely of more service, as I have the energy to reach out to others more. But when it’s bad, when I’m feeling totally alone and useless, that’s when I feel God nearest. Maybe it’s because my prayers are as intense as my need. But I almost always feel him, hear him. I get a lot of questions answered during those times, a lot of direction.
I notice, too, that many of you mention guilt and shame in connection with depression. I don’t really relate to that, either. I can feel hopeless, dark, heavy, alone, useless, completely unmotivated. But I always feel loved by God. I don’t feel like I’m doing something wrong because I feel bad. Which is why it’s so frustrating to hear stuff from the pulpit like, “If you’re living the gospel, you’ll be happy.” I suppose that could lead to guilt, but it generally just makes me mad. I live the gospel. I am not a happy person. Go suck on that!
Anna: When I am mildly depressed, I tend to feel more spiritual. I think it slows me down and makes me more thoughtful and emotional, which can put me in a spiritually receptive place. When I am majorly depressed I tend to feel numb, angry, or shut down spiritually. Logically I understand that there is brain chemistry affecting those feelings, but I feel guilty for them anyway, as though I am failing to remain faithful in the face of a challenge, and if I were spiritually stronger I wouldn’t feel that way.
Lydia: Priscilla, a friend in my ward felt the same way for many years, so that when she was feeling better she would miss that intimate, moment-by-moment connection with the Lord. She said, ultimately, that even though it took a while to get used to feeling more “on her own,” she realized that was what the Lord wanted for her–to do many things and make many decisions autonomously. She came to feel that the Lord sent us here not only to learn to rely on Him, but also to prepare for an incredible eternity of learning to be as He is.
For myself, I have definitely felt the Lord ease my depression–sometimes through gifts of the spirit directly to my soul, but at least as often in the ways Abigail mentioned, by guiding me to resources that will lift the burden. To me it seems like life itself offers plenty of material for struggle and sorrow. I also can’t help thinking about the scripture, “man is that he might have joy.”
Deborah: I’ve experienced depression both ways. There have been times I’ve felt very close to God, and times I’ve felt completely cut off. There was a point in my life before I started treatment for depression that I prayed every 15 minutes or so–no exaggeration. Kneeling prayer. I had to, in order to survive. I needed to feel the spirit. As soon as I stood up, the spirit would fade and within minutes I’d be in despair again. I really did feel an amazing closeness with God, because there was such sharp contrast between the despair and his spirit. I knew that the despair wasn’t coming from him–in other words, that I wasn’t feeling that way because I was being chastised. I knew he loved me in a way I hadn’t known before.
I also felt an intense empathetic connection with people in pain, and not just people I knew and loved–strangers, movie characters, anyone. I sensed that this was true charity and therefore assumed that my deep and abiding empathy was evidence of spiritual progression.
Yet this heightened sensitivity came at a great price. I had strong desires to help others, but I was completely unable to do so because I was not functional. I felt closer to people but at the same time I was farther away from them–I couldn’t even relate to people in conversations because my line of thinking was quite maudlin and I constantly wanted to talk about sad things, painful things. I felt a certain high in doing so, which I thought was the spirit.
An intimate and trusted friend called me on this at one point. She pointed out that compassion that debilitates a person is neurotic, not divine. I was devastated. Utterly devastated. I thought I’d discovered the key to life, and she was saying I was delusional.
She was right.
I hasten to add that I truly believe our most painful experiences can bring us closer to God and others, and enable us to develop the pure love of Christ. In fact I think that’s the whole reason we experience pain in mortality. I can understand reluctance to dull one’s emotional sensitivity with antidepressant medication. Honestly, this is a very real side effect for some people, including myself. Of course, I NEEDED my emotional sensitivity to be dulled, because it was bordering on pathological. But sometimes, for some people, on some medications, feelings can be dulled past the “break even” point. In some cases that side effect (especially in combination with others) is more troublesome for the individual than the depression was, and so the logical conclusion is to discontinue that treatment. This hasn’t been the case for me. My depression is severe enough that I still come out ahead–way ahead–when I’m taking medication. (It has to be the right dose of the right medication, though. I’ve tried many, and a few have made me feel much worse–one even to the point of being suicidal.)
It’s a weird trade-off. I feel less empathy for others when I’m emotionally stable, but I’m much more able to actually be of service to them. Compassion doesn’t do anybody any good if it reduces you to a sobbing heap on the bed for long stretches of time. I even struggled as a parent because I was tuned in to my children’s normal emotional bumps and bruises so keenly–I was constantly doing damage control because it hurt me so much when they hurt (and I assumed it hurt them that much as well). So I know we’re all much better off with medicated Deborah.
I realize now that mood disorders can really skew one’s spiritual antennae, in either direction. Depression can block you from feeling the spirit even when it’s surrounding you, and it can also make you think you’re feeling the spirit when really you’re not, as well as enable you to feel the legitimate spirit more strongly. I’ve had to create a different list of ways to know I’m in tune with the spirit, because my old list was based on indicators that can be counterfeited by mental and emotional illness.
Priscilla: Deborah, beautifully said. It is a complex issue, and one I continually work to be clear about. I wouldn’t say I’ve ever become so dysfunctional that I couldn’t serve, even in ways that are clearly beneficial for others, even if I am not really feeling it. The tricky thing for me is distinguishing between emotional sensitivity and spiritual sensitivity. Depression does not actually affect my spirit, which abides in total light and joy because I know God. But I suffer emotionally. Because we “feel” with both our emotions and our spirits, it can be confusing.
My worst bout of depression occurred about 2 years ago. It was one of the times I turned to medication for relief. In the midst of it, I felt totally cocooned (that was the word I used even at the time), like I was wrapped up in God, waiting and transforming. It lasted 6 months and I could tell immediately when it was over. But during that cocoon stage, I received the most incredible revelations, knowledge that totally put my whole life in perspective. I could see my future and my past all woven together in one divine whole. It included specifics that I can’t do anything about right now, but that explain the deep longing I have lived with for so long. That is my current conumdrum, to live in my present reality– for I am exactly where I belong–with joy and commitment, while I scream, “Bring on that fantastic future you promised!” You can see I have some lessons in patience to learn. You notice, too, that in this case, drug therapy was part of the experience.
Emotion and spirit are not the same thing, and that is not always clear to us. Emotions are biologically based, chemically driven. Spirit is eternal, outside of the physical realm, though it is certainly affected by our physical reality. And that’s the challenge with depression, to keep our emotional life stable so that our spirits can see Truth.
Anna: Priscilla, I loved when you said “I live the gospel. And I am not a happy person.” I wish we could mass produce a bunch of buttons with that saying on it and all wear them to church one day–like scout Sunday, but for depressed people. I don’t say that to discount the joy found in the gospel. I’ve lived both in and out of the church, and I know this is the better path, even when it is challenging. But it does seem to me that as a culture we are afraid of hard feelings. We try to mask them in ourselves or judge them in others, as though the Savior needed us to prove His existence by never feeling said or lonely or frustrated. And that is such a destructive path, because without being honest about what is happening with ourselves we can’t fully turn to the Savior. We can’t heal. And without letting others be honest we can’t really serve them.
Lydia: So true, Anna. Thanks for reminding us.
Deborah: Perfectly said, Anna and Priscilla. I want to stand up on my chair and applaud.
Priscilla: What a great image, Anna! Maybe we could have a fundraiser as well to help pay for our therapy. I’m getting ready to go to church now. Can I have a button?
Abigail: I wonder how different things might be if I weren’t LDS. I think that in many ways my faith has helped me. Having a knowledge of the plan of salvation and a belief in a joyful hereafter, a knowledge of the Atonement, a testimony of prayer–all of these have helped me through bouts of depression. I really don’t know where I would be without prayer. I can’t imagine it. And knowing that the Savior suffered all things and has felt my actual pain–that has been a tremendous comfort, especially when I’ve felt so isolated and lonely and alone in my depression. Although, as I mentioned before, it’s hard for me to “know” those things on an emotional level when I am very depressed, having that knowledge intellectually, knowing it on some deep level underneath the swirling irrationality of depression, has given me something to cling to, even when I’m not feeling it–a tiny life preserver in a dark and tumultuous sea. And I think that because having depression has forced me to rely on the Lord more, I’ve grown spiritually, developed more compassion and humility; having my faith has helped me, in retrospect, view my suffering through a spiritual lens and see a higher purpose, or end result, to my struggles. It helps frame those difficult moments with meaning.
But, in some ways our culture has made it more difficult. Before I really understood the doctrine of the Atonement (and it’s still a work in progress), my belief that I needed to be perfect to qualify for blessings in this life and exaltation in the life to come only added to my struggle with perfectionism, which fed into my depression. And I really shouldn’t be using the past tense here, because it’s an ongoing struggle. I think I understand the Atonement much better now–I know I don’t have to be perfect, but on some level, I still feel the need to strive for perfection, and I feel very discouraged by my imperfections and weaknesses.
As Priscilla and Anna have said, our culture’s assertion that if you live the gospel, you’ll be happy, can be discouraging. What do you do when you’re living the principles of the gospel and striving to keep all the commandments and you still feel deeply unhappy? You think something is very wrong with you, that you must be doing it wrong, and that makes you more depressed. It adds more guilt to your already guilt-prone psyche. It’s painful to pick up the Ensign and read about happy families, happy mothers, happy people, people who have received answers to prayers, people who are doing and accomplishing amazing things when you can’t even muster up the energy to do the dishes. I have a hard time reading the Ensign when I’m depressed. I know that we still need to teach the ideal, but I think that makes a lot of us reluctant to share the real struggles in our lives, so we often suffer in silence, thinking that we are the only ones who don’t have our act together.
Lydia: This is such a complex topic. Often, I’m too tired to even think to ask for the Lord’s help. I haven’t struggled with feeling worthwhile. I’ve know ever since I was a little girl–not just from Primary lessons, but deep inside myself and then later through personal experience–I have a Heavenly Father who loves me and knows me personally. The depression has never attacked that, for which I am so grateful. I have never felt unloved or unworthy of love.
For me, as I mentioned before, the depression makes me feel like everything is too hard, that it is literally impossible for me to keep up (and it’s usually true!). I feel heavy and discouraged, but I don’t think to ask the Lord for help.
I believe in the Savior’s atonement. I feel the Spirit when I read Alma 7, telling me that the atonement covers not just sin but all forms of grief and sickness and suffering. I’ve testified of this in lessons and talks. Somehow, though, I still don’t feel like I know how to apply it. I don’t feel it for myself, personally. I do feel His love and help, often. But I would like to have a deep testimony that he really did take on my personal sufferings, so that, for me personally–and not just in a larger, more generic sense, He knows how to succor me in my infirmities. I would like to know exactly what it means to lay my burdens at His feet, to take His yoke and receive His rest.
I think that’s what it comes down to–I don’t know how to ask for or receive rest. It’s terrible, really, since I’m tired all the time.
Euodias: It is hard for me to determine how my own belief system has affected how I have interpreted my own depression. Being a part of the church culture has made it much more difficult. On the other hand, being a member of the church and having been taught about God and Jesus, a plan and their love for me, has helped me immensely. And having the basic commandments that come from my faith, like the Word of Wisdom and Law of Chastity, have kept me from self-medicating in ways that would lead to much bigger problems. I’m so grateful, and feel so incredibly lucky not have to fight that battle because I’ve been taught those principles. I feel for those that haven’t been so lucky and sought out solace elsewhere.
We are taught that “men are that they might have joy.” It is the reason for our existence. You wonder, and other people wonder, what is wrong with you if you don’t find joy in your life. We are inundated with talks from pulpits in ward houses, stake centers and the tabernacle to look on the bright side, have gratitude, cheer up, be positive. Earlier in our marriage my husband said, “Why don’t you just snap out of it?” He didn’t understand, and felt like the gospel should provide the framework for perfect happiness in this life and the next. He seems to understand better now, but I still feel his disapproval, or think I do. It is hard for me to know what is real and what is me projecting, and how to interpret my relationships when I struggling with depression. It has been my experience that his attitude is pretty typical amongst people in and out of the church. I have some friends who are unaware of my depression. Over dinner they told the story of a family member whose wife had severe depression–they were annoyed with her and didn’t understand why she just didn’t get her butt out of bed. It was painful to listen to.
While a young teen, I received my patriarchal blessing. It mentioned depression, and the Lord being able to lift it from me. I hadn’t experienced severe depression in my life at the time, so I hardly noticed that phrase. I don’t believe it was God’s plan for me to suffer with depression, but I know he knew I would. When I was younger I believed that I could simply ask for a priesthood blessing and my depression would just melt away. I now realize a blessing is helpful, and helps me receive direction on how to get the treatment I need and have the courage to do so. My blessing also mentions that I have an optimistic outlook and positive attitude. Depression and optimism seemed diametrically opposed–but I see how it’s true in my life. Even if I am depressed now, I know I can pull out of it, eventually–or even if I’m depressed, I know deep down that everything will be ok. I feel Heavenly Father loves me and gives me this optimistic hope.
When I have felt suicidal, the idea that we live after death in the state we live on earth has kept me from more serious contemplations of suicide. I figure if I was depressed on earth, I would feel exactly the same after I died–and there was no way to truly escape, no way to simply not exist. In Mormonism mind /body duality is conceived differently than in some religious traditions. The spirit is so much a part of us. Sometimes I think we view the functions of our mind as inseparable from the functions of our spirit–as if the biological grey matter sitting on our shoulders embodies the thoughts and feelings of the spirit. If something is wrong, it’s our spirit that is sick. We don’t see that just as the pancreas sometimes does not produce insulin, sometimes brain chemistry is interrupted, upsetting normal thought patterns.
Sometimes our interpretation of the scriptures is problematic when treating mental illness. The way Jesus casts out devils is carried over to people with mental illness now, interpreted as being a spiritual affliction that prayer, fasting, and reading scriptures should cure. When I was a teen, the first course of action when I was suicidal was to take me to a friend my parents deemed very spiritual to have me exorcised. Even some 20 years later when my sister had a manic episode, my father first tried to cast devils out her before stating matter of factly, “I don’t think there’s anything there,” and taking her to the hospital to receive much needed care. It made my sister feel badly about herself. She says, “I thought Dad hated me. He thought I was bad, just full of devils.”
Several years ago our stake started the church’s 12 step program. It was billed as a program to help anyone with any habit or sin–not just addiction. I felt so much guilt about my anxiety disorder and depression that I attended a couple of the meetings and got the books. I was sure I could pull myself out of this terrible “habit” I had created for myself. I didn’t find any solace in the meeting, and realized I was really out of place and didn’t belong there. I had no addictions. I know they meant well, but that was just nonsense.
One night after reading the book about substance abuse, something I had never struggled with, I got on my knees and sobbed and prayed. I felt the most overwhelming love from my Heavenly Father, and very distinct feelings of “It’s not your fault. It’s ok. You don’t have to change. You won’t change. I love you, and it‘s ok.” The depression and anxiety I was experiencing and what I do experience in my life is the natural consequence of a mix of events beyond my control and a biological predispositions.
Sometimes we are so caught up in being our best, in trying to change for the better, we fail to experience humanity in all its fullness. We fail to see our own humanness, and that is one of the biggest gifts we get to experience in this life–our own humanness and all of our weakness, smallness, and imperfections. What a blessing it was to Moses when he realized that men are from the dust of the earth, something he says “he never had supposed,” so small and insignificant in so many ways–yet the glory of God’s creation.
The biggest pressure I feel now is from others who think I should try and overcome every ounce of depression and anxiety I experience. It won’t happen. I think it’s the consequence of being human–and that’s a good thing. But I understand now that God doesn’t expect me to change it. That doesn’t mean not treat it, or take care of myself, but really, there is no cure.
Lydia: I don’t know how much of this is me, and how much is LDS culture in me, but one of the worst things I do is nag myself about everything I’m not getting done–not just spiritual stuff, but housework, shopping, laundry, Segullah work, church callings. I constantly have a little voice in my head telling me how much I’m not keeping up with. I live with this voice all the time, depressed or not, but of course when I’m depressed I have less energy to get things done so I nag myself more, creating a nasty cycle.
For example, today I paid the bills, exercised, gave my oldest daughter a piano lesson, organized stuff for homeschool, took the kids to the library, and emailed about a dozen essay contest authors. But my mind focused on how tired I am and the things I didn’t do–make sure the younger kids showered today, get my girls tights that fit, read my scriptures, hang out with my kids, do something just for fun, laundry. And it focused on how tired I am and how hard it will be to keep up with future stuff–taking the youth early tomorrow morning to help at the developmental center, fitting in homeschool next week with chiropractic visits and exercise and visiting teaching and Segullah lunch (yay!) and the mountains of laundry I didn’t do today.
I think this is mainly me, but our culture of doing–serving, perfecting ourselves–probably contributes. It’s not just LDS, it’s American too. Being productive means being busy. You aren’t supposed to say “no” to something unless you have a direct conflict or an illness. You’re not supposed to say “no” because you’re too tired, need some time to yourself, or need unscheduled (or less scheduled) days.
Of course, the doing culture has also served me many times, especially this year, with people sharing money and food, helping me cook and clean, bringing anonymous Christmas gifts, praying for me and with me. All that love and support has truly buoyed me up, and I know other people (and their families) sacrificed to make it happen. It wouldn’t have happened without our doing culture.
When I lived in Berkeley, a close friend who was Lutheran lost her two-week-old infant. It was her LDS friends, and other LDS women who didn’t even know her, who brought meals and surrounded her with care while she grieved. This service was of such great value to her that she wrote her own pastor a letter urging fellow Lutherans to follow our example.
Priscilla: For me, in a nutshell, the gospel helps and the church hurts. I get a lot of strength and solace from knowing and living the principles of the gospel, particularly the Atonement of Christ. Prayer is a godsend and a literal lifesaver. I feel known and deeply loved and treasured by God. I go directly to God with my depression issues and though it is not always immediately easier, I never feel alone because of that connection with Diety.
The church, on the other hand, offers little. Though now that I put that in print, I wonder. I have friends at church that I can talk to about this, who share the depression journey, who understand and sometimes offer insight and suggestions. I am in the temple every week because it is the best place to rest in the Lord. That wouldn’t happen without the church. So there are things that are part of church that do indeed help me. But the general culture of the church is not supportive. Too many demands, too much posturing of perfection, too much pretense. Too much law and not enough spirit. My experience of church activity generally feels shallow and unfulfilling, UNLESS I focus on how I can serve and bless others. I learn nothing at church, though I do love to gather with the saints in worship. I love the saints. I love the church. But I’m beyond the point of it being a support to me; I am now a supporter of the church, so to speak. And maybe that’s actually a good thing, even in regards to depression. It gets me out of myself, gets me reaching out. Depression feeds my compassion, IF I target it that way. And church provides plenty of opportunity to practice compassion.
Euodias: You said it perfectly, Priscilla.
Abigail: For me, it isn’t as simple as “the gospel helps and the church hurts.” Because in many ways the church–the organization–helps me with depression as well as the gospel that we teach. I do often feel buoyed up by belonging to a community of believers. I often receive solace and spiritual nourishment and enlightenment from attending my Sunday meetings–and I continue to learn, as well. I love going to the temple and reading the scriptures. I love listening to General Conference. For the most part, I enjoy serving in the church and the growth and compassion I receive because of it. There are so many aspects of the church that help me, so I really couldn’t say that the church hurts–quite the contrary. Certain aspects of church culture can be problematic, yes, but overall I feel deeply grateful for the church.
I think, too, that because of my own reticence to open up, I often deprive myself of the understanding and comfort that others at church would give me if I only shed my “I have it all together” mask. While I was struggling with depression, I served as the Relief Society secretary, and one of my good friends was the Relief Society president. Yet I never told her that I was depressed at the time. Part of that was due to my own pride: I didn’t want her to think I wasn’t competent. Part of it was due to the shame I felt over being depressed in the first place. I also knew she was carrying heavy burdens in her calling and I didn’t want to add to them. And of course I’m sure my martyr complex (exacerbated by depression) came into play, as well. So we sat in presidency meetings every week (and it was all I could do to make it to the meetings, usually exhausted from crying the night before), discussing the needs of the sisters in the ward, while I felt like my own heart was breaking. I could have confided in these women and received support, but I kept my pain and my “weakness” to myself. I know other women who are able to be more open about their struggles, and they seem to feel more supported, less lonely. I think if we were all a little more open, we could more effectively bear one another’s burdens–which of course is one of the reasons why we have an organized church in the first place.
Priscilla: You’re right, Abigail, it isn’t that simple. I really do love the church and the structure itself offers so much to us that we would not otherwise have. I love the feeling of belonging to the kingdom of God, sharing the journey with other people, even though, like you, I rarely share the hardest bits of my journey with others. And that may indeed be a fault, a point of pride we cannot afford. Just this week, my bishop called me in because he “heard from a little bird” (I had talked to a friend, the YW President, about how the depression was affecting my ability to fulfill a calling) that I was depressed. I told him right away, “I am not going to talk to you about depression. It’s a chronic condition and I have occasional flare-ups, much like MS (which his wife has.) You don’t need to worry about me.” We did need to discuss the calling (and that’s a cool story, actually) but I wasn’t feeling the need at all to discuss depression, even though I appreciated his concern. I’m not judging myself — just telling the tale.
There are, however, some aspects of LDS culture, that are very difficult for me, most particularly the sexist attitudes of so many, men and women both. The gospel is so completely and gloriously female-affirming and it breaks my heart to see how many policies of the church undermine, or at the very least, underplay that vital principle. My personal experience leads me to conclude that it is actually the women of the church who are more backward in this regard. As a group (not our group) they won’t stand up and claim their power in the priesthood. I don’t mean that in any radical way; I’m not suggesting structural changes. I’m suggesting that as women, we hold ourselves far too small. And that’s depressing.
Anna: I think it’s interesting to ask why the church hurts. Here we have a whole body of people trying to reach out and serve. It’s a great place to be if you have, say, a broken leg and need some temporary help with housework. So why is depression different? To me it relates to the nature of depression. Depression brings with it thought distortions. When I am in a normal frame of mind I can more easily say, “I need help around the house until my leg heals. If one of the ten sisters who comes to help me is a little judgemental about something while she’s here, I know it is her issue, not mine.” When I’m depressed I tend to zoom in on that one and to be devastated by whatever it is she says. I even worry about it before she says it. For example, when I was a depressed teenager I can remember sitting in the bathroom stall a school crying, wishing desperately that someone would notice that I needed help. And yet I left that stall and went on to do my darndest to make sure no one guessed I was depressed. Why? Because I didn’t think I could handle direct rejection or judgement in that frame of mind, and I risked those if I opened up. In retrospect I can say, what the heck was that about? You were making things worse. But still I do a version of this as an adult. I walk into Relief Society–a room full of women looking to serve–and pretend I don’t need anything. And then I feel sad that my act succeeded and they didn’t read my mind. It makes no sense, because at the core it isn’t really about them. It’s about the mental and emotional place I’m in. Being surrounded by this community that is everything I need and everything I fear at the same time just highlights it.
Lydia: Anna, this is a powerful insight–to recognize that we, ourselves, are part of the problem. When I think about it this way, I realize that if I do have the courage to admit that I’m depressed and need help, people almost always respond supportively.
Abigail: Anna, you said it so well. I do think that because of the thought distortions that come with depression, we tend to isolate ourselves and feel too ashamed to ask for help. I’ve noticed that when I’m feeling more emotionally healthy I can tell others that I’ve had bouts of depression, but when I’m in it, I don’t want others to know I’m struggling. That explains how I could sit in RS presidency meetings, pretending I was fine and doing my best to appear functional, while inwardly I felt like I was falling apart.
***
We welcome your questions, insights, perspectives, and experiences regarding depression and spirituality. Part III of this series, Feeling Better, will be posted a week from today.
Related posts:
- UP CLOSE: Depression Roundtable Series Overview
- From the Queenly Archives: Dolphin Riding
- UP CLOSE for March: Depression Roundtable
Comments
35 Responses to “Depression Roundtable, Part II: Depression and Spirituality”
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March 7th, 2010 @ 7:16 am
I really appreciate this series and the honest openness of the women participating. Thank you so much for sharing such an intimate part of your life.
I have experienced depression several times and one thing that has been disheartening is that it is not always the same, predictable. I cannot always do what I did before and poof it is all over.
Many things have helped and not helped thru the years. But one thing that I have tried to hold onto is that “Feelings are not Facts”. I cannot judge how my life really is by how I feel. Life may be going well, and I may be doing the “right” things, but I don’t feel it. And feelings can be changed by so many things – what I ate for lunch, sleep schedules, chronic pain, the list is endless.
But I still have the Lord, His Atonement is Real no matter how I feel, and my faith is still intact, even tho I may not “feel” it at the time, or for some time.
This is hard to hold onto when I am into the throws of things- but I try very hard and when I don’t I try to get back to it as soon as I can. This has held me thru alot and I hope it can touch someone else.
March 7th, 2010 @ 10:00 am
Thank you for these discussions. They have really been eye-opening. I believe I have struggled with depression for the last 20 years, but have never sought help, thinking there’s “just something wrong with me”.
The last 10 years, my life has taken some dramatic and difficult turns, and continues to do so. In reading these 2 discussions, I have seen myself more clearly as being depressed than I ever have before. And that’s a good thing for me…the recognition.
My question is: Where do you begin to seek help/medication? Your ob/gyn; a psychiatrist; your family doc?
Thanks again for these insightful posts.
March 7th, 2010 @ 11:36 am
I would start with your doctor–usually your family practitioner. If you feel counseling would help as well, see a psychiatrist. Sometimes medication is the best route, sometimes counseling is, and sometimes it’s a combination. And some people have a lot of success with herbs or homeopathics.
I try to be very open about my struggles with depression, and the fact that I’m on medication for it. A lot of people don’t understand depression, so I’m trying to help people see that you can’t just say I’m not depressed anymore and be done. There’s a billboard on the freeway that says “you never hear someone say it’s just diabetes, snap out of it.” So true.
March 7th, 2010 @ 11:42 am
Thanks to all of you for opening up the way you have. While each of you describes things a little differently, a common thread runs through what all of you say and feel. It is very helpful to learn more about this since I don’t happen to suffer from depression.
My question comes as I read the end of the post when some have recognized that there are people who would help you. I understand that having a list of chores can seem insurmountable. But I also understand how having someone do those chores for you can fuel a round of guilt that someone who has her own chores has now done yours as well. The goal of those who would help you is not to add to your sadness. What can we do to help without making things worse?
March 7th, 2010 @ 11:46 am
Great to hear from you, anon.
A general practitioner can prescribe antidepressants. But I recommend seeing a specialist(psychiatrist or psychopharmacologist)if you can, just because the level of care is usually much higher. This wouldn’t be for talk therapy, but for medical diagnosis and coordination of treatment. My first appointment with my psychiatrist lasted a full hour, and while the examination consisted only of questions and answers, it was the most thorough examination I’ve ever received from an MD.
A psychiatrist will often be able to recommend a psychologist for talk therapy, as well.
Best wishes as you seek the assistance you deserve. Twenty years is a long time to have carried this burden alone.
March 7th, 2010 @ 4:19 pm
Ellen, thanks for asking. Next week’s topic is how others have helped or not helped.
Anon4this, I’m so glad our writings have been helpful. Writing for this forum has helped me too, helped me see that I’ve been in the middle of depression again recently.
Seeing clearly is key–it’s the first step toward healing. That’s not to say that I won’t always have this, but when I can see the depression clearly, I have power to make choices to take care of myself.
March 7th, 2010 @ 6:06 pm
Thank you ladies – the posters and the commenters – for your honesty and bravery in telling it like it is, for you, in all the variations and shades you experience. Thank you.
March 8th, 2010 @ 3:32 am
I loved this — sums up so much of what I’m feeling right now, so much of what faith and trust is meaning to me.
“That is my current conundrum, to live in my present reality– for I am exactly where I belong–with joy and commitment, while I scream, “Bring on that fantastic future you promised!””
In a sense, that sort of sums up mortality to me. We have these eternal promises, but then this messy journey lies between here and there, and somehow we are supposed to live “with joy and commitment” in spite of it all.
“Come what may and love it” and all of that.
For me, finding more happiness and joy in the journey is including redefining what happiness looks like. I think it’s human nature (not just “LDS culture”) to want things to be nice and neat and linear. And I think only the school of experience helps us learn that life isn’t that way, and that God is an n-dimensional Being, and that opposition is part of the plan.
With mental illness, I think it’s such an irony that the very faculties that can help us sort through the schtuff of life are often impaired. And yet, it’s interesting to me to read the threads of clarity about fundamental truths that are deep within the hearts of so many of the writers here…especially about God and His reality and knowledge of us. To me, those threads can testify to the reality that even with mental illness, we can know things deep in our souls somewhere that our minds may not let us see in the moment. That gives me hope. I can’t help but think that the real key to joy — even in spite of mental illness — lies in those core, anchor, glimmers of truth that are embedded within us, and somehow holding onto those however we can. That has been some of my experience, anyway, if those words even make sense.
But I’m sure grateful for the times when my mind is not out of whack.
Makes it all easier, to be sure!
March 8th, 2010 @ 10:24 am
Again, I have to say that I think this series is wonderful and helpful. Thank you for being so open.
March 8th, 2010 @ 10:52 am
Thank you thank you for sharing. I read so much of this thinking, “how did they get into my brain and relate my thoughts and experiences”. Amazing. With depression being so isolating, we can so easily think we are the only ones going through this or feeling this way. It is the few people who have shared their experiences with depression that have helped me get through this. And yet, I am like those of you above who want help, need help and support, yet put on a happy face and pretend everything is fine because I don’t know how to ask for help, and I don’t even know what I need. Yesterday at church I was having a bad day – very weepy and couldn’t pull it together for anything. Surprisingly, about 10 people asked me how I was (unusual, since I tend to hide on those kinds of days). So, what did I do? I smiled, said “fine” and walked away fast before I could start crying. Why? I don’t understand why I feel so much shame or embarrassment related to this. I wish I could shout it to the world “Yes, I deal with depression, but don’t judge me!”- wear a button – anything. I feel like it is inside me screaming to get out, and yet I am terrified it will get out. I feel like we need to talk about this more in our church. There are many women (and men) that I know struggle with this, or that I suspect might, but we don’t talk about it. (My psychologist says he wishes we could start every Sunday School lesson with “Hi, my name is ________, and I am a sinner” – just so we could get it all out there that nobody is perfect – we say nobody is perfect, but we don’t seem to believe it.)
I am very grateful for the gospel knowledge I have – I think I would be very lost without it. Yes, the church culture has its ups and downs – I hate the perfectionistic attitudes, the pretense(aren’t I the hypocrite for saying I hate pretense?), but I love the kindness, the love, and support that is there too. Opposition in all things, maybe?
Thank you for sharing. This has been amazing to read.
March 8th, 2010 @ 8:55 pm
Some interesting thoughts here. I’ve struggled with depression at times in my life, and have found help through medication. I was interested to find out that several on this panel felt that medication was more of a last resort and that it wouldn’t draw you closer to Heavenly Father. I guess I tend to see depression as a physical illness affecting my mind and the chemicals in them. Just as I wouldn’t hesitate to take a Tylenol if I had a headache, I don’t see the difference in taking medication to treat the chemical issues in the brain.
As a sidenote, I was a little taken aback by the conclusion, “the gospel helps, the church hurts.” It seems like what’s being said is that members of the Church hurt because 1. They expect people to be perfect and that pressure is hard and 2. Members of the church are not perfect and may not completely understand those suffering from depression.
It just seems that maybe the very thing you feel other Church members are doing to you (being judgmental and expecting perfection) is what you could be doing when you evaluate other church members.
I think a bit of patience with each other is always in order. Many people, especially those who are young, have not experienced depression and really don’t understand. Those who are older usually have, either for themselves or through someone close to them, and they are often much more understanding because of it. We’re all trying on this journey and perfection is pending.
I love this quote by Joseph B. Wirthlin: “The Church is not a place where perfect people gather to say perfect things, or have perfect thoughts, or have perfect feelings. The Church is a place where imperfect people gather to provide encouragement, support, and service to each other as we press on in our journey to return to our Heavenly Father.”
It’s found in this talk here: http://www.lds.org/ldsorg/v/index.jsp?hideNav=1&locale=0&sourceId=c758d04a6921c010VgnVCM1000004d82620a____&vgnextoid=2354fccf2b7db010VgnVCM1000004d82620aRCRD
Thanks for sharing your thoughts about depression. It’s interesting to see how varied people’s experiences can be.
March 8th, 2010 @ 10:20 pm
Handsfullmom,
If you will go back and read Priscilla and others’ comments very carefully, you will find that how she (and others) found the church unhelpful had nothing to do with feeling we had to be perfect, or expecting others to be perfect. Priscilla was very specific in how she thought the church hurt.
Certainly viewing church culture as a whole is not judging individual people.
March 8th, 2010 @ 11:45 pm
Handsfullmom, judging certainly can come from all sides, including assuming that others will judge us. I believe the power of our conversation here lies in the balance we came to. Here’s a later quote from Priscilla, who brought up “the church hurts”:
“You’re right, Abigail, it isn’t that simple. I really do love the church and the structure itself offers so much to us that we would not otherwise have. I love the feeling of belonging to the kingdom of God, sharing the journey with other people, even though, like you, I rarely share the hardest bits of my journey with others. And that may indeed be a fault, a point of pride we cannot afford.”
The rest of the conversation continues along these lines, taking responsibility for the ways we sometimes isolate ourselves.
I’m sure you didn’t intend this, but your comment, ironically, did sound a bit judgmental.
March 9th, 2010 @ 3:39 am
Certainly viewing church culture as a whole is not judging individual people.
Hm. I don’t think we can generalize about any group without in a very real sense risking judging individuals within that group through that same lens.
If the culture gets the blame for our pain, I think the impact of such an assertion has an affect at the individual level — both in how much we own our distortions (to give “the culture” power over us is in my mind at some level abdicating agency, which agency is so critical in the path to progress and healing), and also, I think, in how willing we are to risk and let individuals help and love us (which Priscilla’s comment seems to get at).
I think it’s one thing to recognize that there will always be imperfections wherever mortals gather and to talk about how we — all of us — might do better. But I do think “the culture” too often becomes the scapegoat in unhealthy ways when sometimes we struggle in our lives as Mormons (whether it be because of depression or faith journey or whatever).
March 9th, 2010 @ 12:14 pm
I have to admit, I do struggle with feeling inadequate when it comes to the church because I feel that we have to present a certain front to the world. And sometimes I just don’t have it in me.
I also really have a hard time at church when everyone brings out the pat answers like pray every day, read your scriptures, etc. I feel like I’m the only one that is struggling to do that, and that makes it really hard. You would think it wouldn’t be so hard to remember to pray every day or read scriptures, but when you don’t/can’t even drag yourself out of bed or get dressed, it’s almost impossible.
March 9th, 2010 @ 12:25 pm
Have any of you good sisters had personal experience with cognitive therapy as part of the therapy for dealing with depression? If so, I’d be interested in your thoughts on it.
March 9th, 2010 @ 12:31 pm
m&m, have you ever felt the burden of secrecy and silence the sisters in this post describe?
handsfullmom, notice that Priscilla didn’t make any pat conclusion about the church and the gospel–in fact she questioned and rephrased her own initial statement. And yes, a dulling of spiritual sensitivity is a particular side effect she experiences with antidepressants, but several other participants report that they feel closer to God on medication.
March 9th, 2010 @ 1:04 pm
So m&m, are you saying it is always our fault? That the culture and church are perfect? It is our unhealthy view of things if we find some things troubling? and we should never look at things that stem from it that may actually have a negative impact?
Read my comment again, where I said: “I think it’s one thing to recognize that there will always be imperfections wherever mortals gather and to talk about how we — all of us — might do better.” I think it’s good to seek for truth that may impact our lives, and sometimes cultural forces can impact them. But too often the emotion that comes with blaming doesn’t really reflect truth, imo.
I just think it’s more empowering ultimately to own our misunderstandings about doctrine that can distort how we see ourselves and God, rather than place ourselves in a mode where the culture is the culprit, which to me leaves us pretty hopeless because we can’t really change the culture — unless we change ourselves, personally, within the culture.
That’s different to me than saying, “We are all to blame!!” I’m trying to share what I think can actually help us. If it doesn’t gel with you, then of course ignore me.
And yes, Kathy, I think we all feel a burden of silence sometimes. How often we really should feel such a burden is another question, and I wonder if sometimes we do that to our own detriment. If there is a culture of silence and we don’t speak up, who will break that? That said, sometimes silence is necessary, too.
That is another reason a therapist can be so helpful…relieves the need (perceived or real) to be ever-silent.
March 9th, 2010 @ 1:27 pm
“I’m sure you didn’t intend this, but your comment, ironically, did sound a bit judgmental.”
I guess I can see how I came across that way, and I’m sorry. I think my point is valid, that we often expect perfection of the church and our culture, but I probably could have phrased it better.
“And yes, a dulling of spiritual sensitivity is a particular side effect she experiences with antidepressants, but several other participants report that they feel closer to God on medication.”
As I said earlier, I think this discussion is fascinating because there are so many different perspectives given. I’m especially interested in the different ways people have found to treat their depression. For me, medicine was a great answer, but I hope I didn’t come across as saying that would be right for everyone. In fact, I probably have the same “last resort” attitude towards therapy that some mentioned about medicine — I would avoid it at all costs. But I love hearing that therapy has been very helpful for others, and my attitude is probably as much about ignorance as it is about facts.
March 9th, 2010 @ 1:28 pm
I think I know what you mean, m&m, and I agree–I’m responsible for my own mental, emotional, and spiritual condition. I own my misunderstandings, and I’m the only one who can remedy them. But part of that remedy entails identifying where and how they originated. There’s an undeniable connection between many of the internal distortions I’ve struggled with and the common rhetoric of church members. The same is true for other women I know, and it’s validating to realize you’re not the only one who feels like she’s swimming upstream on a given Sunday. The purpose in that recognition is not to band up and point fingers, but to raise awareness and generate motivation to make a difference in our own sphere of influence. Surely you agree that this post series encourages the practice of “speaking up.”
March 9th, 2010 @ 1:36 pm
Thanks for your input, Handsfullmom. Yes, a variety of viewpoints is essential when discussing an issue this complex. Our next post will discuss treatment options in more detail.
March 9th, 2010 @ 2:53 pm
In response to Mary B’s question about cognitive therapy, I sought therapy to treat my depression after the third major episode. I found counseling to be a 100% life-changing experience! It was the cure I was looking for. (I know it doesn’t work that way for everyone, but for me, it was THE answer.)
My depression mainly was caused by my ineffective coping and communication strategies, my inability to deal with my emotions in healthy ways, etc. When difficult things happened in my life, my unhealthy coping mechanisms literally crippled me and sent me spiralling into depression every time. In fact, in between my major episodes (lasting 3-6+ months at a time), I think I was often mildly depressed. I didn’t know how to acknowledge my own feelings, tended to repress everything negative (after all, “good” Mormons don’t ever complain or feel angry), and often struggled with assertiveness, which put me in more than a few situations where I felt trapped, resentful, and, eventually, full-on-depressed.
I was very disappointed to attend a guest-speaker’s lecture on depression at our relief society (the speaker was the author of a book on depression) and have her speak so negatively of therapy. I understood that it did not work for her (and I acknowledge that her experiences were much more severe than mine were)… but to generalize that to a wider audience?
I LOVED therapy! It was over 10 years ago, and it still affects my life positively.
March 9th, 2010 @ 3:14 pm
“I just think it’s more empowering ultimately to own our misunderstandings about doctrine that can distort how we see ourselves and God, rather than place ourselves in a mode where the culture is the culprit, which to me leaves us pretty hopeless because we can’t really change the culture — unless we change ourselves, personally, within the culture.”
m&m
I know you don’t realize this, but when you say people are misunderstanding and that is causing depression, you are saying, “If you could just understand this right [like I do] then you wouldn’t be depressed.” That’s pretty judgemental. Your comment doesn’t use those exact words, but saying our own distorted views are messing everything up is essentially the same thing.
Yes, depression can distort our views for sure, but blaming misunderstanding of doctrine is really unfair.
As for myself, saying it’s church culture actually makes it easier. If brother or sister so and so says something really offensive/sexist–what have you, it is a great scapegoat to, instead of condemning the person, just think they are going with the flow of culture.
I’m not really actively trying to change the culture–and I don’t see any discussion here that someone is. This discussion has definitely been about changing ourselves.
I think you’ll note too that we are all very happy in the church and find much comfort in the gospel we choose to believe in, and enjoy our associations with other members of the church.
March 9th, 2010 @ 3:27 pm
I want to know how long I have to STAY on the medication.
It really bothers me how doctors are so quick to prescribe something before you even tell them what’s going on…
I firmly believe some people need medication and that it improves the quality of life.
Most people just go on medication and do not go to therapy — and I’m not sure if that’s wise. I would be interested in hearing about other options besides medication — especially the homeopathic remedies. I’d also like to know what brand of antidepressants work for people…
I am on Zoloft but I feel like it’s wearing out… and I don’t just want to take more and just “see” what happens. Thoughts?
March 9th, 2010 @ 3:30 pm
Lara,
When it comes to medication, you should consult your doctor, not us lowly bloggers. Medication is going to vary from person to person–and again, we aren’t doctors.
March 9th, 2010 @ 3:48 pm
Lara, get thee to a psychiatrist!
Seriously. GPs are adequate in some cases, but I can’t overstate how helpful it’s been for me to consult a specialist.
March 9th, 2010 @ 6:04 pm
The purpose in that recognition is not to band up and point fingers, but to raise awareness and generate motivation to make a difference in our own sphere of influence.
Of course, I understand that. This is one reason why I have been more open about my struggles and going to therapy, etc. I feel that if I hope for more honestly and openness open around me, I have to start being open myself.
I know you don’t realize this, but when you say people are misunderstanding and that is causing depression, you are saying, “If you could just understand this right [like I do] then you wouldn’t be depressed.” That’s pretty judgemental. Your comment doesn’t use those exact words, but saying our own distorted views are messing everything up is essentially the same thing.
I’m sorry if you feel my words are judgmental, but at the same time, I feel you are sort of putting words into my mouth…not really fair to get upset at something I didn’t really say. I will try to say it a different way to see if it helps clarify my thoughts.
I’ll expand my thoughts using Kathy’s response.
There’s an undeniable connection between many of the internal distortions I’ve struggled with and the common rhetoric of church members.
I absolutely understand this. We all have distortions fed by humans around us; that’s sort of the (VERY HARD) nature of mortality. It’s hard to learn to discern truth from error when we are ALL fallen.
My point is that ultimately, I believe that the source isn’t the *cause* of the problem (although for each person, understanding what may *contribute* to unhealthy patterns of thought can be helpful to be able to avoid “buying into” distortions when they come up, because they will…again, because we live in a fallen world).
I’m not saying, “If you just figured it out better, you wouldn’t be depressed.” That wouldn’t be fair, and it makes it sound as though there is a quick fix to depression, which of course there is not. (And how.)
But I do think there is hope in the reality that just because falsehoods are around us, and just because it’s hard not to get sucked into them, when we do come to see the distortions (which I think is part of mortality’s journey and can come in different ways at different times), we can learn to practice not giving power to them anymore, regardless of where they come from (the culture, our families, our own personal thought patterns, the media, whatever). If and when we have the knowledge to do that, that is, which is a big if and when…. And it’s not a competition. We each have a journey here, and layers come off in different ways and at different times. I’m not trying to make this a competition, ok?
My short point is this: I think trying not to blame those influences that do have an impact increases the chance that we can muster power to ‘act and not be acted upon’ as much as possible within our own limitations.
That doesn’t mean we are evil if we still get stuck; that’s often part of what being mortal means. And God doesn’t always rescue us from our stuckness…sometimes that takes years and time and maybe eternity to really happen. So I’m not trying to be judgmental, just trying to talk about what I think helps maximize the chance that we can learn to discern and do what we can about weeding out distortions.
For me, even the possibility that I don’t have to keep playing falsehoods over and over in my mind, regardless of the source, that notion to me is freeing, not condemning of myself or anyone else still stuck in patterns of thought that damn. Because we all are stuck in some way.
But if none of this feels helpful, then just put this into the ‘well that works for you but that doesn’t work for me’ category. We each have to find what works for wherever we are. You probably have things that work for you that wouldn’t for me, too, because I still have plenty of layers in my own life that I’m hoping can be peeled off my soul.
March 9th, 2010 @ 6:30 pm
One last thought — I still think that blaming the culture as a way to process an individual’s comment or whatever still ultimately condemns the individual for not seeing things more clearly.
I think the better option is to simply forgive people for their mortalness (including ourselves!!) and just do our best with where we are in trying to find truth that can unlock Christ’s power in our lives.
March 9th, 2010 @ 8:00 pm
m&m
I apologize for putting words into your mouth. I agree with you completely that we all fall into thought patterns that are distorted at some time. You said it well, there can be layers. It is freeing to know we can change how we think, see things differently and have a change of heart.
However I don’t like your characterization on this thread as it relates to depression that one of them is a “misunderstanding of doctrine”. Yes, perhaps this could lead to depression, but I don’t see how you could possibly draw the conclusion from the discussion that it is a factor for anyone in the roundtable.
#28 You are right, it could be condemning the person for no being perceptive, however I am not condemning anyone.
March 9th, 2010 @ 9:02 pm
However I don’t like your characterization on this thread as it relates to depression that one of them is a “misunderstanding of doctrine”.
I think you may still be misunderstanding me, and maybe it’s because i’m not explaining myself well enough.
I think perhaps you are reading my thoughts as declaring fault, something to feel guilty about, etc. That somehow if you are depressed, it’s because you simply don’t “get it” yet, that you are not doctrinally savvy enough yet. That you are not righteous enough. That you need to just go study doctrine more and voila! You’ll be better.
But that isn’t what I’m saying.
Distortions in my mind are, by definition, a misrepresentation and/or misunderstanding of truth (maybe that’s a better word than doctrine) — whether voluntary or involuntary (we don’t always *know* that we are seeing through a glass, darkly, and we can’t change — and aren’t responsible — for what we don’t know!). That is a commentary on human nature. We ALL have distorted thinking, which means at some level, we ALL have misunderstandings of doctrine (truth) in our lives.
Depression, by definition, includes and can exacerbate distorted ways of thinking. I think that is the key point of this particular thread — that depression can add another difficult layer to this veiled journey called mortality and the desire to feel the Spirit and understand truth.
I applaud any efforts to hold on through that darkness. And I know that sometimes it’s the very belief in and understanding of doctrine that makes that possible — a real, deliberate act of faith — even when the feelings of *happiness* that we sometimes associate with that doctrine feels so very elusive if not nonexistent in the darkness of depression.
I think it’s also great that there are discussions about what options there are to consider (meds, therapy, etc.) to try to stabilize thinking enough so that glimmers of light and truth are more able to pierce the veil — both the veil generally of mortality and the veil associated with depression.
Does that help?
March 9th, 2010 @ 9:07 pm
One more thing — I have found that sometimes there is real work I have had to do to overcome distorted ways of thinking. There is real work involved in retraining the brain, once there is the realization that distortions exist. And there is sometimes work we can do to uncover such distortions (which for me is why therapy was such a blessing — I couldn’t find such thinking on my own!)
BUT other times, it’s simply in not giving up, in trying to stay on the path, that glimmers of truth have come simply as a gift from God.
March 9th, 2010 @ 9:10 pm
…and I have a feeling there are things that I may have to wait until the resurrection to have removed from my layers. We’ll see.
Each of us has to discern what is what, imo, between what we can DO, what God has to do, and what may come later after we have endured well this mortal journey.
A book that has helped me tremendously is Weakness is Not Sin, by Wendy Ulrich. FWIW.
March 10th, 2010 @ 10:48 am
I’ve struggled with varying levels of depression since early childhood. I think it started because of our dysfunctional and abusive home life, but since that was how I’d always felt, I didn’t know I was depressed. I just knew that I wasn’t “good enough”, that down at the very ATOMIC LEVEL, I was deficient somehow. Depression kept me from feeling the spirit unless it was a MAJOR experience, in which case I just clung on for dear life hoping for another one.
I haven’t commented on it till now (too depressed. KIDDING!) but the thing I’ve enjoyed most about this series is how it’s shed light on all the varying ways depression can present itself. I’ve experienced many of them, but knowing other things that I might experience in the future arms me with information that might be useful in recognizing things earlier on. It took YEARS for me to accept the fact that I was depressed and needed help. The very word “mental illness” was too traumatic for me to even consider…I was stigmatized by it…thinking it was a personal failing to be depressed.
It was a little over a year ago, when I was SO down, so bleak, and had thoughts of just ending it all that I finally conceded that I needed help. And I got some. It astonished me that I could have, even for a second, entertained those thoughts, because I know that it would devastate my kid’s lives…even if I couldn’t value my OWN life enough to press on. I’d do just about anything for them, including starting an SSRI.
Various doses of Lexapro seemed to work well enough to get me over the worst of it…but it was therapy that helped me most of all. The pills weren’t magical, and I never felt exactly “happy”, but I plugged along regardless.
Still, after 8 months of medication, besides enduring the unwanted side effects, I realized they weren’t really doing for me what they were expected to do. I had increased the dosage to the max but was still a mess at least a couple weeks a month. A bestie who was also on Lexapro and I talked about it, and she pointed out that her experience was vastly different than mine with them, and maybe they weren’t the answer for me.
This led me to consider my hormone’s role in my mental/emotional state. Talking to a doctor friend, we decided that based on how things were going, my hormones very well could be a major factor in how I was feeling. Evening them out became my goal, and after weighing all the options, I ultimately decided to get the Mirena IUD.
Since that time (6 months now) I’ve never had that “in the blackest pit of Tartarus” feeling that I used to have so regularly. My baseline mood has improved. I don’t think I’m COMPLETELY healed, but I’m in a much better place than I usually dwell. I still feel tired most of the time and am not as “productive” as I think I “should” be, but I’m better than I have been a lot of my life. Of course it’s a day-to-day (or hour-to-hour) thing, which could change without notice
This whole crazy journey of being depressed but not knowing it, then becoming aware that I am depressed but not willing to accept the fact because I couldn’t handle there being YET ANOTHER THING that was “wrong” with me, to finally making peace with it and finding ways to deal with it has been really eye opening. And because of my experiences, I’m more aware of why my child’s moods might be what they are.
If the powers that be weren’t already planning to, I hope they’ll consider doing a segment on children with depression. I would love to hear people’s thoughts on helping our children avoid some of the struggles I had my whole life. I’m still early in the journey of dealing with this, and sometimes I am at a loss. It’s one thing to have my perspective as an adult on things, but if there’s anything that causes me more anguish than worrying about my child’s well-being, I don’t know what it is. Beyond therapy and talking, what has worked for others? My child has an ironclad opposition to taking any kind of medication, no matter how sick; a daily pill won’t work (even if it comes to that), so that’s the thing I’m trying to work through at the moment. But the low self esteem, the isolation, the feeling like no one likes them, the lack of interest in participating in various activities, the worthlessness…it kills me to see them struggling the way I did. And I’m committed to not just standing by and doing nothing, like my parents did with me.
Thank you again for all the thoughts and experiences you’ve shared. ♥
March 14th, 2010 @ 8:13 am
[...] to Part II of Segullah’s UP CLOSE series about depression. Parts I and II can be found here and here. If you haven’t already read the series overview, please do so before [...]
March 21st, 2010 @ 9:08 am
[...] Part IV of Segullah’s UP CLOSE series about depression. Parts I, II, and III can be found here, here, and here. If you haven’t already read the series overview, please do so before [...]