Opening Up

I wish my mom and dad had been more open about my mother's challenges. Perhaps they or I would have recognized that what I was experiencing was depression. Because my mother lived so much of those years shut away, she may not have been around enough to even notice. I also know that because mother's pit was so dark and insidious, that she probably was unable to see my suffering. Even if they recognized what I was going through, I realize now that the secrecy and stigma of the illness might have precluded my mother even talking to me about it. If I had known earlier, I wonder if I would have made wiser choices throughout my life and been able to better manage this illness.

What Can Others Do?

I have been approached by many spouses, parents and children who live with someone with depression who are sympathetic but struggle to know how to help. Depression is a very difficult disease to understand and I speak personally of my error in judgement of my mother. I have watched my father, my husband and my children attempt to cope with living with an individual suffering from depression.

The main thing I can offer is try very hard to have patience, don't discount their suffering and don't judge them. Please don't tell us to pray more, study the scriptures more and go to the temple more and our depression would diminish or leave. We have probably tried all of that and more. We have already berated ourselves that if we were more righteous we could be healed. When someone is suffering from actual chemical depression, those things are not going to help without medication.

We know that sunshine and exercise can be very therapeutic but constantly being badgered to get out in the sun more and exercise does not motivate us to leave the house and soak up the rays.Neither is suggesting that we get a job, babysit grandchildren or any other good thing you think will help. With depression, a positive mental attitude or putting mind over matter might sound like good advise but the depression inhibits any of those abilities.

Once medication has started to work we might be more receptive to occasional gentle suggestions.

In the last twenty years I have realized that part of this debilitating disease is the inability to function, to even do simple tasks. I recognize the biggest challenge for me is taking that first step. It is like getting a two ton ball rolling. If the ball was already moving, I might be able to keep it rolling. Just the thought of me trying to get a two ton ball rolling is so absurd that is overwhelming and beyond my capacity.

This becomes even harder if it involves leaving my house. There are times when I actually leave the house to drive to a store but then I can't get out of the car. I would just sit in the parking lot for a while and then just go home filled with frustration that I couldn't even buy groceries for my family. Once in a while, I would actually get out of the car and walk into the store only to turn right around and leave.

I Quit!

At the end of the fall semester at college I was heading out to take my Physics final. I had walked about half way there to just realize I couldn't go and take that test. In mid-stride I stopped and went back to my apartment, getting an 'F' in the class. I was a good student so that was totally out of character for me but now I realize I was struggling with depression during this semester. I just couldn't bring myself to go to the testing center and take that test. It didn't really feel like I had a choice, I just turned around.

As I headed home over Christmas break, I made a decision that I would not be returning to college. I knew my father wouldn't be pleased but I knew I could not cope. My dad tried tried very hard to convince me to return but I didn't budge.

I wish, here again, that my mother or father would have recognized my symptoms and actions as being those that were similar to my mom's and talk to me about depression. Looking back I am relieved to know there was a reason to my irrational behavior but it would have been a blessing to know what I was dealing with at the time.

Losing a Friend

I had a dear friend of my pass away a few days ago and it has just sunk me into the deep. I don't know if I internalize things so deep that with my depression it pushes me further down or what. I can't stop thinking about how much I will miss her and how empty my life feels. She was one of those friends that are rare to find yet I was blessed to have her. She knew my deepest and darkest feelings. When my son came to me and told me he was gay, and I didn't know if I would ever stop hurting and crying, she was there.When another son overdosed not once but twice, (but through two different miracles lived), and once again felt my heart break, she was there. When I felt as though I had failed as a mother, she was there. She never judged me and she never broke my confidences. I knew she was a safe place for me.

Dreaded Girls Camp

When I was sixteen, I was supposed to attend a girls camp with my church for a week in the summer. I didn't like camping but I had gone before so I knew what to expect. This time, however, I was filled with dread and I absolutely did not want to go! I didn't understand but it became a huge deal to me. When I told my father I didn't want to go, he told me that I didn't have a choice. It wasn't mandatory unless you had my father. I tried to persuade him but he was not having any of it. He was usually very reasonable but not this time. I went but it was a lonely and excruciating experience. I spent most the time in my tent and distanced myself from everyone.

In hindsight it is easy for me to know I had depression but I didn't recognize it. Again I wish my mother or father would have talked to me about it.

What if?

I have a better understanding now and greater insight into depression. Some of these insights have come very recently as I have been writing on this blog. As I look back on my teen years, I can see that I actually experienced episodes of depression throughout my life. They were shorter and I eventually pulled out of them without medications or even understanding what really happened.

Growing up in a family of eight children, I would find myself trying to disappear for hours or days at a time. If I could avoid talking to anyone, I did. In at least three separate instances, I recall sitting on the floor in my mother's room for hours as she tried to get me to talk and tell her what was wrong with me. Since I couldn't understand what was happening to me, I couldn't vocalize my feelings which meant I stayed on the floor. Finally, I would come up with something to say which earned me the freedom to leave her room. I wonder if I could have described what I was feeling, would my mother have recognized that I was experiencing depression similar to hers? Would she have opened up and tried to find a way to help me?

There were a couple of situations that seemed to define for me the disease I had. I was sitting on the couch looking out the window one afternoon and saw two neighbors just chatting. The thought in my mind was I really needed to be outside chatting with them. But when more than an hour passed and I hadn't moved from my couch, I realized that no matter what my desire was, I had no ability to put thought into action. Another incident was a day I actually headed out my door and was going to get the mail. As I opened the door, I saw another neighbor outside working in her garden and I very quietly closed the door and quickly went back inside. Everything became too hard. I couldn't answer my phone because I didn't know who would be calling. What if they asked me a question and it was difficult to answer? Making any kind of decision was a huge challenge, an insurmountable obstacle. I stopped going to the person who had cut my hair for years and went to someone that didn't know me. I couldn't go to the store because if I ran into someone I knew, I might be required to carry on a conversation and thinking of something to say seemed like an impossible task.

Effexor is giving me my life back!

First, my apologizes for my long absence. My illness turned into pneumonia and it has been a tough road.

There is good news! I did what so many encouraged me to do and I went to my doctor to change my anti-depressant to Effexor! I started taking it even in the middle of my pneumonia because I didn't want to waste another minute. I was just praying that it would work the same as it had years ago. I was really scared in case I fell deeper into my dark place. It has only been three weeks and yet I am totally feeling so much better. I have hope back in my life and it has been so long since I have felt any hope or joy.

I think I would still be paralyzed by the fear of what could happen. Thanks for all the encouragement to move forward.

I would love to hear more from you on how you are or are not managing this disease. I really believe we can help one another from our experiences.

My World Caved In

Sorry it has been so long. My son got home from a two year mission in Zimbabwe for the LDS church. And then I got hit with a sickness I am having a hard time kicking.

I had wanted to blame my depression on the terrible stress I had undergone in the preceding two years. When it didn't leave as some of those stresses were lifted, I found myself slipping even deeper into the pit. What followed were some of the darkest days of my life. The depression hit me harder than ever and I was drowning. I felt like my body was just around an empty shell. I couldn't function. I couldn't leave my home. I couldn't clean or do the laundry. I was shutting down and didn't know how to stop it. 

 

I was a mother of eight and that took every part of my being to just do that. I grew up with a mother that lived behind closed bedroom doors and I wasn't going to shut my children out of my life. So if it was the ONLY thing I could do, then so be it. I also felt they deserved to know what was going on with me. I didn't want a shroud of secrecy in our home. If I failed them, then nothing else mattered.

Lessons I Learned

It is a shame it took me getting depression to understand my mother. Realizing that I had judged my mother so harshly wasn't the end of it. I had spoken so loudly to so many people that I really felt that I needed to do two things. First, one of the hardest things I had to do was go to my mother and confess to her the awful things I had said and done as well as all the judgments I made against her. Tears flowed down my face as I asked for her forgiveness and with no hesitation she promptly forgave me. I had taken such a heavy heart to my mother's and yet she had no guile. This was the beginning of a new relationship as we were finally able to relate we had never experienced. I never believed my mother and I were similar in personality and yet when I heard her or my father talk of her life before depression, I believe we were more similar than I ever knew.

Secondly, I knew my penitence would not be complete until I made every effort to undo the damage I had done. Many of the women in my neighborhood had heard me on more than one occasion speak ill of my mother. I made a concerted effort to personally talk with as many as I could to let them know how wrong I had been. It is so vital to get ride of the stigma of depression and to stop judging those around when we have know idea what their hidden demons might be. It is also crucial for those of us that have depression to be open with one another and find strength from sharing together.

Understanding My Mother

Something that was life altering for me was the change in how I perceived my mother. I always loved her but I had judged her harshly for how absent she had been in my family's life. I found as the years went on that I found every opportunity to criticize her. I said very cruel things about her to others and even said some of my comments to her personally. I justified my comments to her because my perception of her actions or lack of actions was that she didn't care.

But now, my eyes opened to a whole new understanding of the despair and misery my mother had experienced throughout her life and I felt deep regret and sorrow for the judgments I made against her. When she fell victim to depression, the doctors had little or no experience with this disease. She suffered some very primitive and barbaric treatments in their attempts to heal her.

I finally understood because of my own personal experiences that the reason for her not being there wasn't because she did not want to be, but because she could not be! Now I had empathy that could only come through me being personally afflicted with this same disease. I finally understood and appreciated the tremendous mother she really was given the unbelievable burdens, obstacles and treatments of depression she had to endure.

When Did I Really Get Depression?

Some of my latest insights have come as I have tried to write about depression. As I look back on my early teen years, I can see that I actually experienced episodes of depression back then. These situations were nowhere as bad as they would eventually become but I recognize them as 'situational' depression.

 

One example I remember was growing up in a family with eight children and finding myself trying to disappear for hours or days at a time. I f I could avoid talking to anyone, I would.

 

On another occasion, I remember my first semester of my sophomore year at college was extremely tough. My friendship with my best friend and roommate seemed to be disintegrating and our other roommates were less than ideal. I dreaded going back to my apartment at the end of the day and I would stay on campus as long as I could to avoid going home. At the end of the semester, I headed out to take my physics final. I was halfway there when I stopped, turned around and went back to the apartment! I knew it was insane and that I needed to keep going but I just couldn't bring myself to go and take that test. I knew I would never be able to explain myself to my father but I didn't feel like I had a choice, I just turned around. I got an 'F' in that class which is still on my transcript today (if they keep them that long).