I am a huge fan of Nicolle Wallace and watch her show “Deadline Whitehouse” on a daily basis. She’s smart and honest and a former republican. One of the things I respect her for most lately is that each day she ends her show with a segment called, “Lives Well Lived.” In the segment she talks about two people who lost their lives to coronavirus. Each day she tells stories about people’s lives and how they will be missed. Each day she gets choked up and frequently I can tell she’s crying. Each day I cry with her…because she remembers the humanity of what is happening with this pandemic…and I remember too.
Last week Michelle Obama opened up in a podcast about experiencing a low-grade depression because of the pandemic and racial injustice and the hypocrisy of the current administration. She’s another woman I respect deeply. Nicolle Wallace was immediately supportive of Michelle Obama and admitted that she also is experiencing depression.
Both of these women understand the need for honesty now more than ever. They model the strength of vulnerability and the power of honesty…and they are willing to put themselves out there to the world even though they know they will be criticized and possibly mocked…they do it anyway because they know that we need them. That makes them heroes in my book.
I am also depressed for the same reasons…and others. I worry about my family and friends, of course, but there is so much more. I worry about the children in Lebanon, and worldwide, who are starving…children are going hungry in this country…children are suffering and dying from starvation, the pandemic, lack of medical resources, lack of clean water…basic necessities…no one should be starving in this world. Black and brown children should not be experiencing these hardships at a higher rate because of the color of their skin or systemic inequities that increase their vulnerability.
My depression is influenced by physical pain as well. The constant presence of pain exhausts and wears me down. I am sadder without all the people I depend on being physically present in my life. I miss hugging people and being with them face to face talking. And I worry about my grandchildren and how they will be impacted long-term from in-home learning and lack of social interaction. I worry about my grandson who wants to play in the NBA but can’t even play for his middle school team right now.
Depression is sneaky though. It generally takes weeks, or even months, before I realize I feel depressed. Now I don’t think I am particularly slow or clueless, but depression just creeps up on me. It comes on so slowly that I don’t recognize it until it’s been there long enough that I can look back and see the pattern…the pattern…that’s the thing.
My awareness of my depression goes something like this…
“What are you doing?”
“Nothing”
“Wanna do something?”
“I don’t know”
“You ok?”
“I don’t know”
“Something wrong?”
“I don’t know”
“Wanna sit outside?”
“I don’t know”
“Anything wrong?”
“No”
“Are you in pain?
“Yes”
“Worse than usual?”
“I don’t know”
“You depressed?”
“I don’t know”
“Seems like it”
Hmm…don’t know, don’t know, don’t know….
As you can tell, I’m a lot of fun when I feel depressed. I become plagued by indecision and everything becomes difficult…including recognizing and identifying my own emotional state.
I don’t really like talking about things that cannot be resolved…well, I do generally like to talk, but I also like resolution. Depression is not resolved, it’s managed. Chronic pain isn’t resolved, it’s managed. The state of the country will not be resolved any time soon and it isn’t managed either and neither is the pandemic…who knows when or if it will be managed…it feels like a freefall, personally and globally. Seems like that’s a learning curve for me…managing…tolerating (when I can’t manage)…managing…tolerating…
so much managing.
So here’s the thing…I am not overly sensitive, I am not just moody, and I am not mentally ill. I am a deeply feeling person in a messy and fucked up world (thanks to Glennon Doyle for that explanation…minus the f word…which seems fitting most of the time lately). It often feels like a criticism when I am called “sensitive” as if nothing going on in the world or my life is anything to have any feelings about and the only reason I do is because I am plagued by sensitivity.
Sometimes I don’t know what to do with myself in this messy world. I have tried to focus on one thing as a solution…let myself deal with one issue at a time…but then I see a starving baby elephant on tv and I send money…the ocean is a mess and sea turtles are dying so I send money…the LGBTQ+ community faces bigotry and hatred so I send money…people of color have experienced oppression, bigotry, and hatred for hundreds and hundreds of years…so I donate money…children are dying…and I send money. I know that sending donations is not the answer for everything but being one person, who is depressed and unsure what to do, it’s a beginning. And it’s better than nothing.
Buddha said that we are what we think and that with our thoughts we create the world. On days like this I am creating a world of endless pain and suffering…it’s all I see. Who would be happy about that? All I know is that I created this spin cycle I am in and I CAN change it…with the cooperation of my mind…that’s the tricky part…reeling my mind back from the edge of the cliff…back to my life as it is this day, in this moment…just this moment…if I am willing.
With my thoughts I create the story of my life and my circumstances…I create the world that I see and experience. The story is my perception of reality at this moment. That story is shaped by everything I have seen, done, or heard in my life. Still I ask myself if my depression is an appropriate response to what’s currently happening in my life and the world…hmmm…there’s a pandemic, someone dies of coronavirus every 80 seconds in this country, there’s racial injustice, I have intense physical pain, an ongoing recovery from surgery, another surgery on the horizon, so many doctors appointments, family stresses caused by the pandemic…I suppose the list could go on but, what the list says to me is that it is a normal response to feel depressed at this time…depressing things are happening. That doesn’t mean that I want to stay stuck in this place but I’m not sure that I am stuck…yet. What this does mean is that I am willing to sit with my sadness and feel it fully…because it must be felt…and deserves to be felt. If that sounds unappealing to anyone else that is reading this and depressed, I feel you…it’s unappealing to me too.
So here’s the thing…I know that what I refuse to feel does not just miraculously disappear. Pain demands to be felt…now or eventually. I have found that pain requires a lot more therapy if I avoid it. Pain ignored is pain smoldering. I don’t want to spontaneously combust, so I invite my depression in for tea…or wine, depending on the day. I make space for my depression and I to be present together. I become curious about my pain and depression. I approach both with compassion and vulnerability…and I am patient. No guest for tea wants to be rushed…tea (and wine) are sipped not chugged…both are better with time to breathe.
With the ease of a leisurely afternoon tea with a friend, I begin to recognize patterns my depression creates in my life…some helpful…some not so much. Feeling deeply, part pattern and part just me, is something I value. The ability to sit with someone else in pain without trying to fix them makes me a good friend, mom, teacher, and wife. To feel and care deeply in a messy world allows me to see and interact from a place of vulnerability. I can feel another’s pain when I can feel my own. I cannot accept in another what I reject in myself.
So that’s the thing…depression, right now, is an appropriate response to the circumstances in the world and my life. It’s appropriate as long as it allows me to feel more deeply and to remain present with the pain and depression in myself and others. It’s appropriate as long as it softens me, and I grow in compassion. It’s appropriate as long as it allows me to see my story with new vision and perspective. It’s necessary if it encourages me to continuously edit and update the story I tell myself and others.
With our thoughts we create the world…let’s create one full of new openness, curiosity, vulnerability, and eagerness to deeply listen to the story’s others tell themselves. Compassion first…let’s help each other through this.
Kai Raines 