Have you ever noticed that all the advice centered around helping someone out of a depression is like, “Make sure you eat healthy, nutritious meals, get 8 hours of sleep, drink plenty of water, exercise daily and get at least 20 minutes of sunshine!” It’s like watching a tampon commercial where everyone looks super jazzed to be on their periods. I get it. Those are all sound suggestions that have been shown to improve mood, but when you’re at the bottom of the pit, most of those things are just not happening. Eat healthy and exercise? I’m lucky that I got of bed today, Steve, but I’ll get right on meal planning! Get 20 minutes of exercise? I’m lucky that I made it through work. Now that I did that, I’m completely fried, and I will remain on my couch binge watching old episodes of Supernatural until I fall into the beautiful abyss of sleep. Thanks for the suggestions, though, I’ll get right on those as soon as I stop feeling like getting out of bed and dressed is a monumental task!
My point is, while these things are good practices, they are canned responses from individuals who have likely never been in a depressive period of life. Now, I feel that I would be remiss if I didn’t take a second here to mention that medication and therapeutic intervention from a mental health professional are invaluable resources. If you’re anything like me, though, you’ve delt with depression without utilizing these resources. To be clear, now that I have, I wish I had sought out medication and therapy MUCH sooner in my life, but alas, it is what it is. Given that, I thought I’d share some of the strategies that I used to get through my major depressive episodes prior to discovering professional intervention.
First, you have to acknowledge that there’s a problem and ask yourself why it’s happening. For example, when I was in my post-partem depressions, it was easy to understand the “why” of what was happening. However, I experienced about a year of deep depression after graduating college and it was not as clear to me what was going on. I had to sit in my feelings and ask myself some uncomfortable questions. Am I happy? No. Am I enjoying my friendships? No. Do I enjoy the work I’m doing? No. What parts of my day feel like a grind and what parts do I look forward to? Most of my time feels like a grind. The only thing I look forward to everyday is locking myself in my room and binge-watching Friends. Am I being honest with the people around me? Absolutely not, I’m masking my depression because I don’t want anyone else to see what state I’m really in.
By going through questions like that, I eventually concluded that I was in a state of disillusionment after college. I got the exact post-college job that I wanted, and it was going to set me up nicely to pursue my graduate career. Except, I hated it. I realized two things in the first two weeks of that job: 1. I no longer wanted to go to graduate school for my Ph.D. in psychology and 2. I hated clinical research. Though I realized in two weeks that things weren’t going to work out and I needed to establish new career aspirations, I hung on at that job for two years. Not only did I need the work, but I also needed to give myself some time to plan what I was going to do now that I’d blown up my entire life plan. Also, and this is a bit of a tangent, I didn’t do well at that job at first. It was the first time in my life that I hadn’t excelled at something I was expected to do. I needed that failure. I needed to prove to myself that I could take responsibility, accept grace, be directive, and do better. It was a bit of a process, but by the time I left, I was solidly doing the job that I was hired to do. I think that most of the time, our instinct is to cut and run. It’s difficult to sit in discomfort, let alone doing it day after day. It’s necessary sometimes, though, to figure out what’s on the other side of that discomfort.
Another thing that I came to realize is that in my job, I spent a lot of time on the phone speaking with people about their mental health concerns. Then, I went home and listened to my parents and their issues—usually arguing with each other. Next up, I would hop on the phone with friends, or my boyfriend and I’d listen to their problems. I was spending my entire day listening to people and offering advice or perspective, but in doing so, I was building a solid wall of resentment. As my depression worsened, I withdrew more. I would go home, eat dinner with my parents (yeah, I lived with my parents for a long time—I was poor!), and then I’d lock myself in my room and watch box sets of Friends (this was in the days prior to streaming services). I would dodge phone calls and keep human interaction to a minimum. I learned two things through that. 1. Watching funny things was helpful. It was good to laugh, and it was good to smile. It made me feel lighter when I watched comedy. It became a necessary part of my self-care routine at the time. 2. I realized that I was angry at people for not intuitively realizing what I was going through. I was struggling and no one in my life seemed to care or even realize it was happening.
That led me to my next question: How can I expect people to support me if I never talk to them? If they have no concept of what I’m going through, is that their fault or mine? Unfortunately, people can’t read your mind and not everyone is empathetic enough to pick up on the fact that your vibe is off. It was difficult, but I challenged myself to say at least one thing about myself in every phone call with a friend. Instead of the standard response of “I’m good. Not much is going on.” I started to tell the truth. Not all of it at once, but little bits and pieces. Work kind of sucked today and I don’t really like my job. I decided that I don’t want to be a psychologist, but now I don’t know what I want to do. With each admission, I felt a little better. As I kept practicing, I began to have full conversations where I was an active participant and not just the listener. In turn, my friends and family started to offer me advice and perspective. I started to feel heard and that was a real game changer for me. All it took was realizing that my voice couldn’t be heard if I never used it.
If that seems obvious, to you or you’re having a “well, duh!” response, you might not be as deep in the pit as some other people. For me, that was revolutionary. An introvert and people pleaser by nature, I spent most of my time minimizing my needs or taking a backseat to people around me. As long as they were happy and doing well, then I was good. That was, until I wasn’t good, and I didn’t have any communication skills to cope with it. I had to stop making myself smaller. I had to make myself heard. That was difficult to do. Not only was I not in the practice of talking about myself, but now I had to talk about things that were upsetting and that I didn’t really want to talk about. I’m not going to lie, it took some time to get used to the idea of that, let alone to start practicing it in real conversations. Once I did, though, the walls of resentment that I had built started to crumble. It was freeing to let go of the anger and speak my truth.
Before I got used to talking, though, I started keeping a journal. I have always lived more in my head than I did in the real world, so I had kept journals before. I always found them therapeutic, but I had gotten away from using them for several years. Remember, this was back in the day before we did everything on phones and computers, but there is something special about setting pen to paper. The cathartic effect of writing something out can’t be understated. It’s just not the same on a computer. Your brain works differently when you’re writing. Research suggests that we learn better when we physically take notes and that’s why we’re also more likely to remember to do something if we write it down. It’s not just about having a reminder to look at. What I always liked about it was that I could write down whatever I wanted, however I wanted to write it. I could swear if I wanted to. I didn’t have to use proper grammar, and I could let my natural inability to spell fly free. It was also something that was all my own. The paper didn’t have any expectations of me, and it didn’t care if we were in a one-sided conversation. That was kind of the point. When I refused to talk to anyone, I could be honest with myself and unload my mind in those pages. It gave me a place to put my raw feelings—literally and figuratively, I guess.
Another thing that I did a lot of was listen to sad music. I know that seems counterintuitive, but there’s actual research backing up the idea that listening to sad songs when you are sad can have a healing effect. There was one song in particular—America by Paul Simon, but sung by Josh Groban, that I would play on repeat. There is a line in that song that says, “I’m empty and aching and I don’t know why.” It always hit me because that was exactly how I felt. Another song that lived rent free in my playlist was “Moving On” by Rascall Flatts, which is essentially a song about not fitting in where you are anymore. These songs, and others like them, provided me with connection. Someone had written those words and put music to them. That meant that there were other people out there who had experienced the same type of things that I was going through and they decided to make art from those experiences. Something about that made me feel hopeful. I couldn’t see a light at the end of the proverbial tunnel, but it gave me a little faith that it would be there eventually.
Last, but certainly not least, I prayed…a lot. Now, depending on your relationship with religion and spirituality, prayer might mean something different to you. I was raised Catholic, but more importantly, I was raised in the mindset that when the world brings you to your knees, you need to look up. Given that I’m Catholic, I have learned many different structured prayers over the years and sometimes I use them. In my darkest times, though, my prayers looked more like a one-sided conversation. I typically would be in my car on the way to work or something and I would just have it out with God. Sometimes I cried, sometimes I was mad, sometimes I was begging for answers or guidance. Be angry at God if you’re angry. Rage if you need to. Cry, scream, let it all out. I think we believe that all prayers should be reverent, but that’s not the case. It’s God—He can handle it, so let it out. If you’re not a spiritual or religious person, please understand that I’m not judging or proposing that you should be. I believe that spirituality is deeply personal and your relationship with it is your business. I’m just sharing my perspective and if it helps someone else out then, great. Here’s how I look at it. If Jesus went out alone to speak to God, then why shouldn’t I? If Jesus was tested over and over again, why wouldn’t I be? If Jesus could pray for an alternative to his crucifixion and be told no, why do I expect all things to work out in my favor? When I frame my thoughts this way, I have an easier time reorienting myself to purpose. Not everything that happens is good, but that doesn’t mean there’s no reason for it. When I rested in that knowledge, I could allow myself to hope for better days. I could more easily believe the mantra, “this, too, shall pass.” There were days when I had a white-knuckle grip clinging to hope, but it got me through. Day after day, week after week, and month after month until the fog started to lift.
If you take nothing else away from this post, please take away these facts. First, hope is always available. It lives inside of you; you just have to make the choice to access it. Next, please remember that you are loved. You have family and friends who love you—reach out to them. For those of you who feel that you’re truly alone, please know that you are loved completely by God (or if source, spirit, or the universe are more comfortable for you, go with that). You were created with intention and purpose for a divine reason. If you haven’t figured out what that is yet, that’s ok. There’s no rush, but it’s there, so cling to that. Next, know that this dark period will end. Believe me, I have spent multiple years of my life in significant major depression episodes, so I understand what it’s like to hang out in that headspace for a prolonged period of time. It does and will end. This will pass and lighter, happier times will come. Lastly, you have to be an active agent in your life. This is a really heavy thing, so find healthy ways to carry it. Maybe you’re binge watching your favorite shows, or you buy yourself a swanky coffee every Friday, or you have a little shopping spree at TJ Maxx once a month—figure out something that soothes your soul and gives you something to look forward to. It doesn’t have to be big, but it should be something that progresses or produces a positive mindset. So, to be clear, I’m not telling you to go do illicit drugs or down a bottle of alcohol every night. Those things are decidedly unhealthy options as they are more likely to perpetuate your depressive symptoms rather than lead to any sort of sustained alleviation of them. So, it’s fine to think small, but don’t be stupid. If you still have doubts, please refer to one of these public resources:
- 988 Suicide and Crisis Lifeline: Call or text 988 to reach this 24/7 hotline for mental health and substance use-related crises
- National Suicide Prevention Lifeline: Call 800-273-8255 or chat with Lifeline
- Crisis Text Line: Text TALK to 741741
- Veterans Crisis Line: Call 800-273-8255 or text 838255
- Disaster Distress Helpline: Call 1-800-985-5990 or text TalkWithUs to 66746
- NAMI HelpLine: Call 800-950-6264, text “helpline” to 62640, or chat online
- resolve Crisis Services: Call 1-888-796-8226
- The APA website: https://www.apa.org/topics/crisis-hotlines
- KLove: pastors available at https://www.klove.com/ministry/pastors
- Please note that I have no affiliation with any of these organizations or resources. These are public resources that I came across in a few quick Google searches. I do not have personal experience with these resources.
I hope that these ideas are helpful to you. Please know that there’s someone out that who gets how you feel and is rooting for you. I wish you all the love and light and good things. ~Lorie