Depression.
Why am I depressed?
What’s wrong with me?
How do I make it stop?
Would anyone notice if I were gone?
Is there anyone who actually cares about me?
I sat nervously waiting for my turn to get up in front of the class to share my speech. I was in a public speaking class during a brutal winter in Rexburg, Idaho. I had loved the class; however, this assignment was focused on “moving people” with your message.
I am not naturally gifted at storytelling. I like to state principles, values, and facts. But you need a story to help others see your points through your eyes.
I did my best to relay to that class my experience with depression and suicide. I quoted the song One More Light by my personal favorite rock band, Linkin Park:
You’re angry, and you should be; it’s not fair
Just ’cause you can’t see it, doesn’t mean it isn’t there
If they say
Who cares if one more light goes out?
In the sky of a million stars
It flickers, flickers
Who cares when someone’s time runs out?
If a moment is all we are
We’re quicker, quicker
Who cares if one more light goes out?
Well I do
I invited the class to close their eyes and picture what the world would look like if they were not in it. I know, I did what therapists warn friends and family not to do. I asked them to stare down the idea that you may not actually bring anything to the world. Look it dead in the eye. Defy it.
I asked them to open their eyes. I turned off the lights in the classroom (my teacher was not expecting that) and I asked them all to turn on their smartphone flashlights.
As they shared their individual light, the room became bright, and it was easy to see everyone’s smiling faces.
They then began to slowly turn off their flashlights.
As the lights turned off, one by one, the room became darker and more lonesome.
Eventually, it was completely dark. It was silent.
Rather than removing that uncomfortable silence, rather than using my time to speak publicly, I allowed everyone to sit there in the silence, contemplating the impact of their individual light.
I turned on the lights, and class ended. As my fellow students left the lecture room, someone passed me a note. To this day, I do not know who the student was, but the note left an impression on me:
“Thank you for your speech today. Before coming to class this morning, I was seriously contemplating ending my life. I don’t feel like doing that anymore and want to try again.”
How Do You Fight Depression When You’re The One Depressed?
You can analyze it. You can test the medication. You can read books and research papers. You can go to med school to learn about psychology and psychiatry.
I am grateful to live at a time when mental health support resources are abundant.
But when it is your life that feels hopeless, chemical compounds and people paid to care do not feel like an adequate solution.
I have never been shy about discussing my clinical depression. It is also something I do not typically discuss.
The reason for this is that my advice to those supporting depressed individuals and my recommendations to those who are depressed differ dramatically.
What’s My Advice to Those Who are Supporting?
Offer encouragement. Don’t fix their feelings, but offer words of support and love. Say things like:
- Thank you for staying.
- It’s ok to feel angry.
- I’m here and have your back for you even when you’re not strong.
- Someone has or will learn how to love from you.
- You notice what others pass by.
- One is better than zero.
- I’m proud to be in your corner.
The following ideas are among those I shared with that college class. I have also learned a lot about living with my depression since then. Everything I share in this article is simply my take on what has worked for me.
This is not science. This is not therapy. This is simply me sharing the mentality shift that has empowered me to live life with the desire to be here.
To The Depressed
This is going to hurt. Life that is. In the unusually popular movie and book, The Princess Bride, there is a small statement the protagonist uses as his life philosophy: “Life is pain.”
While the childish character is a fool, his statement is true. Life is pain. Life is hard. Life breeds suffering.
When books or loved ones boldly declare that “life is to be enjoyed,” or to simply “choose to be happy,” or “look for the bright side,” their intentions may be pure but ill-informed.
It provides no value to intentionally dilute our awareness of reality. It does not solve for depression; it merely silences it. It merely punishes the idea of pain as if being depressed were immoral.
When I received advice such as “choose to be happy,” it did nothing for me. It did, however, tell me who not to open up to or who not to share my struggles with. It showed me who I thought to be untrustworthy of my inner, darker thoughts.
How have I reconciled with the pain of my reality?
If life is pain, then commission that pain’s meaning.
What does this mean?
Living with depression, or any chronic mental or physical illness, can often feel hopeless.
The life slogan “live like there is no tomorrow” may provide an adrenaline rush or a momentary dopamine boost, but it leads to a shallow life devoid of purpose. In my experience, that only adds to the chasm of despair that constitutes depression.
If you are going to experience pain, whether or not it has meaning, then you might as well make it worthwhile. My suggestion:
Choose Your Meaning
I have so often been told to “love yourself” or “love who you are.” Again, well-intentioned advice, but an ineffective tool for battling despair. The idea that I am “good the way I am” has only ever added a layer of hopelessness.
- If I am good the way I am, will I never get better?
- Is the current state and reality of my life, my body, and my mind never going to improve?
- Is my life all that it can be? If so, that sucks!
(I love the way Jordan Peterson discusses this phenomenon in this video here)
I believe that self-compassion is born by embracing one’s challenges, not by avoiding them.
I believe that self-compassion comes from accepting and embracing the responsibility to change your life and take ownership over your depression.
Add meaning to your pain. Assign yourself the reason to keep going. There are plenty of good reasons to keep your light on. But you will never hear all of those reasons until you are willing to suffer for them: that means staying. To struggle, intentionally. To willingly accept the responsibility of giving your life purpose. Of driving impact for all those around you.
To me, that is hope. It is an obligation to yourself to embrace ownership over your life. You deserve at least that. You deserve to believe in a better tomorrow. It is your right to matter.
Don’t Give Up
I have found actionable insight that has directly improved my ability to manage my depression by asking myself some deep, harsh, desperate questions. If you are depressed or suffer from depression, I recommend you ask yourself these questions and record your answers in a journal. Don’t wait for the perfect mood to journal. If necessary, do this in the presence of a trusted loved one.
- Does my life suck, or do I suck?
- Where am I avoiding accountability?
- In what ways am I sabotaging myself?
- Am I living in the past, or learning from it?
- Am I allowing those who hurt me to win?
- What skill am I lacking that would empower me to manage my life better?
- What are my strengths?
- What are my flaws?
- What do I notice that no one else does?
- What makes me feel appreciated?
Les Brown has a statement that is forever forged within my mind:
“If you want your life to get better, then you have to become better.”
I am a firm believer that you have exactly the life you deserve.
Did you deserve for bad things to happen to you? No.
Did you deserve to start where you started? No.
Do you deserve to be depressed? No.
Did you deserve to be treated that way? No!
But do you ignore your responsibility to create the life that you want?
If yes, then you deserve the life that you have now.
So do something about it.
Live Like There Is a Tomorrow
Please forgive yourself.
Please forgive yourself for not being perfect.
“All of us are self-made, but only the successful will admit it.” – Les Brown.
I need you to imagine two scenarios:
(1) You change nothing. You place the responsibility (or blame) for your depression and current life on anyone but you. You believe you are too tired. You believe you are doing the best that you can. You remain idle. You remain defeated.
In 10 years, what will your life look like? If we have to “change for something to change,” then we could assume that in 10 years, you will be depressed, hopeless, and dissatisfied with life. Every day will continue to be a “hard day,” and every problem will be someone else’s fault.
This is not a vision that instills hope. It only adds to the despair.
(2) Now, please envision this: You take ownership of your life. You embrace the responsibility and accountability for your depression. You make the choices you have been avoiding. You set the boundaries you need, with yourself or with others. You discipline yourself to focus on matters most to you.
You get out of bed. You take care of yourself. You strengthen your mind in whatever way you can. You become dedicated to growth. You get to work.
In 10 years, what does your life look like? One could assume, or in other words, one could hope that you will be proud of yourself. One could hope that you will love yourself. One could even hope that you would finally have the life you want, the life that you deserve.
(Please see this great insight from Jocko Willink on managing difficult emotions)
Hope
Live like there is a tomorrow. Today may be painful. Today may be lonely. Today may suck. Thankfully, if you stick around, there will be a lot more than just today.
That is how I fight my depression. I hate my depression as much as you hate yours. But I want the life that I am worthy of; a life worth living.
Years of therapy, medication, struggle, and pain have taught me one thing: Hope lives through ownership.
As I think back on that classroom in the freezing Idaho winter, I desperately hope that we keep our lights on, and that when we close our eyes we will know exactly the meaning of it all.
Noah Cisneros 