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Jamie's Blog

Wednesday, July 18, 2012

Depression Comes Calling


Depression came calling last month. No tragedies befell me, no cancer recurrence or family deaths.  A bunch of little nothings in particular over several unremarkable months imperceptibly mounted a sneak attack on my mojo.  I couldn’t write a thank you note, let alone a blog.  I missed appointments with clients and struggled to focus on the ones I did not forget. 
A couple of weeks ago I took a step back and recognized that my old nemesis, depression, had moved in. I have an intimate knowledge of this condition as a psychotherapist, but more importantly, as a patient. So I knew what to do for myself to get well, the first being to reach out to safe people and let them know I needed support.
One such person is a leader in breast cancer activism, and to my surprise she admitted that she, too, was struggling with depression. Neither of us had known that the other was in trouble, and we both felt encouraged by the empathy shared. 
Because that shared vulnerability bolstered me so deeply, I decided to share my own experience with suicidal depression to let others know that they are not alone, and that things do get better.  Below is a meditation I wrote thirty years ago about my  

DARK NIGHT OF THE SOUL.

Often I would cry through the night, the family mercifully unaware of yet another collapse.  On one such night I cried alone by the fire until my sides hurt.  I frantically thought of harming myself, or ending my life impulsively, before the part of me that wanted to live could catch me.  Such thoughts terrified me that I might lose control and kill myself.  I had to evaluate my feelings about dying as opposed to living in agony  I did want to die, to end my suffering, but I kept holding on because wholeness is worth the struggle (so I heard) and because I knew my dying would hurt my family too much.  Besides, what if the unpardonable sin was suicide (A notion I rejected when in my right mind), then I would only succeed in condemning myself to an eternity of the despair I sought to escape.  Anyway, suicide was not an option for me because I had already promised to keep myself alive.
          As these questions rummaged through my beleaguered mind I trudged through day after endless day, looking at the clock for signs of nearing darkness and the escape into sleep.  "Only ten minutes have passed?"  Then sleep would give way to another day of waiting for hands on the clock to move.
          Three steps forward, two steps back—permanent residence in the pit gave way to moments up, then moments linked with others to give me a day of relief.  Days linked to each other into periods of something like happiness.  I functioned again as a wife and mother, yet gloom clutched my heart.  I looked like a concentration camp victim, even when I smiled.  Inevitably I would buckle under the effort, and plummet to the pit.
 
THE PIT

The pit is filled with tarry mud that weighs heavily on my limp self.  With titanic effort I lift my head, look around at the black heaviness, and drop my head in defeat.
I pray for death.

God is silent.

Eventually the misery of despair yields to the agony of hope; I push through the layer on top of me, gradually working my way to a standing position. From there I can see where I've been and where I need to go.

I must scale a very steep grade that is covered with a thick layer of mud oozing downward, engulfing me if my concentration on the ascent slips, i.e.,  simple things like keeping the head up and forward, lifting one foot up, down, then the other up, down, straining all the while against the pull of the mud flow. 

When I stumble from exhaustion, or from looking down, I collapse, and hope vanishes.    But I learn that if I scoop the muck from my eyes, to my amazement I find that I am not at the bottom of the pit: my face was mired only a pace or two back from where I fell.

All was not lost!

It just felt that way as long as my face stayed in the mud. 

So I drag myself out again…and again…and again…

NOT from the bottom of the pit

but from a ledge on the wall that I could not see from below. 

And from here I see glimpses of a rim of this pit where I hope I shall be able to step clear out of the mud, shake off all the residue, and run and skip and play again.

But never so far that I would not look for others in the pit, to show them how to get out.
 ______________________________________________________
I did recover from that Major Depression with the help of good therapists and appropriate medication. I have had ups and downs, but never as severe as my time in the pit, not even during two bouts with cancer. My recent dip into depression was painful and immobilizing, but short-lived, largely because I have learned how to read the signs and take action quickly.

28 comments:

  1. I love you.... I really do. I'm glad you found your way out of this round of darkness. You are beautiful and how very unselfish to share such a deeply personal experience so that others might feel less alone. I have so much admiration for you, Jamie.... and truly, so much love...

    xoxoxo

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    1. I am humbled by your words, AnneMarie. You are always a bright light in my world.

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  2. I remember this. You helped me. Thank you. I love you.

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    1. I remember it too! We have both come a long way in thirty years! I love you, too. But you already know that!
      Intense twin.
      :)

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  3. Depression has a way of sneaking up on us often without cause or reason. I too know the pit and the fear that comes with it... It's a long road to travel but we are both worth it... Hang in there: you never know whom your writing will lift out of the darkness.

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    1. You are exactly right, we never do know who is reading our stuff and gets help or support from our sharing. I have been surprised several times with this post to learn of friends who have been depressed. You just never know, do you!
      Thank you for sharing yourself with me.
      Jamie

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  4. Jamie, I am in awe of your honesty and selflessness in sharing this. You convey the massive weight and struggle in depression.
    Sending love and healing thoughts across the miles, Philippa xox

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    1. You are in awe of ME? Wow, I was going to say that about you! I guess we have a mutual admiration society. You are very honest with your struggles, too, and have blessed me more than once, dear girl!
      I look forward to our tweets.
      Jamie

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  5. Thank you so much for sharing this,love. It also helps me in the dark times that I have been muddling through trying to find my feet. Many blessings. xoxo

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    1. If you need someone to help you scoop the crap from your eyes, just tweet me! Depression is so deceptive, telling us not to bother people, blah, blah, blah. Please let me know if I can help you when you are down.
      And keep on tweeting from my favorite lake country!
      Jamie

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  6. The ledge is such an important part of this amazing sharing. The ledge is not the bottom but you have to take your head out of the mud and clean your eyes. Such a powerful insight. And sometimes we find another on the ledge who will help us clean the mud out of our eyes and renew our spirit as we help renew their's. A friend. You have a beautiful heart Jamie and a powerful spirit. Thank you for sharing

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    1. I am touched by your comments, and the extra insight you had about finding someone on the ledge. You must have learned this in your own dark valley.
      Thank you for sharing.
      Jamie

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  7. I was recently diagnosed with breast cancer in March. I have been strangely calm and focused. I have reflected ALOT on this. Everyone, including myself, was anticipating that I would fall apart and fall back into depression. I didn't. I kept wondering if I was in denial. I wasn't, at least not a full blown denial. I was in survival mode. And truth be told, that is so much easier than depression. I am only at the beginning of my treatment. But since I have been tolerating chemo, I have even dared to think I would rather have this than depression. And THAT is why I am doing so well emotionally. The Dark Night of the Soul has taught me a lot. I am glad that I went through it several times, but I don't ever want to go there again. Thanks for posting! Kirsten

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  8. Dear Kirsten
    Thank you for sharing your story with me. I am sorry to hear that you have breast cancer, but glad to learn that you are keeping your equilibrium through the treatment. No doubt your experience with depression has taught you how to keep watch on your mental health during new trials. People who have never experienced major depression can't imagine how awful it is. I am glad you have come through it well.
    If you ever need an understanding ear, please let me know.
    Jamie

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  9. Jamie,

    This is beautiful. It's a raw and powerful window into the feelings and experiences of depression. Thank you so much for translating your own painful journey into this gift for others. And thanks for the important reminder that depression can recur and that we can use our support and coping skills to keep it in check.

    Warmly,
    Ann

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  10. Inspirational stuff Jamie. Sharing these insights will b of enormous benefit to others in a similar situation

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  11. I am sorry to hear you are feeling this way--or WERE? I cannot stand that spiritual muck [my sense of spiritual--emotional plasma] cannot just get wiped away with soap, water...with rubbing your eyes. I hope you are feeling better. Your Jamieisms are quotable quotes, I don't know what I'd do without them. [i.e. "you can't reason with an unreasonable person"] Take care of you, Jamie Wamie. We love you and you're impressive. Thank you for sharing with us.

    PW

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  12. Jamie,
    Thank you so much for sharing about your depression. It truly is the silent stalker. I have a family member who suffered terribly. Finally, the stigma is lifting, but far too slowly. People should never feel alone in this either and posts like this one surely are helpful. Thanks again.

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    1. Silent stalker, that is the perfect term for it! The stigma is lifting, but people still associate it with moral failure or weakness, which is the furthest thing from the truth. People who fight depression are some of the strongest folks I know. Just getting out of bed and facing each day takes enormous courage.
      We are sisters in arms!

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  13. Jamie
    You have truly touched me with this post.
    Prayers and my best to you. You really are one helluva woman!

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    1. Bless you, Suzzann, for your kind words. I am glad to hear that you were moved by my story.

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  14. At last, at last, I get time to read your remarkable post and want you to know how deeply touched I am by your words, your insight, your compassion and your support. When someone is in the throes of depression, it seems as if there is very little that anyone can say or do to comfort them, but this is not true. To know that to suffer depression is part of the human condition, that we are not alone is so important. One of my favorite quotes is that of Leo Buscaglia and I am reminded of it again, reading your words: “Too often we underestimate the power of a touch, a smile, a kind word, a listening ear, an honest compliment, or the smallest act of caring, all of which have the potential to turn a life around.” With your compassionate words you have turned a lot of things around for many of us Jamie. With deepest gratitude, Marie xxx

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    1. My dear Marie, I appreciate you very much, not just for your kind words here, but for the blessing that you are every day to me and the thousands you reach through JBBC.
      Thank you for all that you do.
      Jamie

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  15. It is heartening to see some of my own feeling spelled out in this way by another. Thank you for sharing, and I hope you do not mind if I print a copy of this for myself to keep and grasp when I feel that I am in my own pit. It will help to remind me that there is indeed hope and I am not alone.

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    1. I am honored to have you copy my story! I understand how important it is to know that others know what we experience, and survive. If you ever need an extra boost, please send me an email.

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  16. Thank you for this wonderful post. I've been there - not quite in the pit, but definitely in a dark place. I think you express your feelings so well and they resonate with so many people. You're so articulate here - and it is so helpful because it's hard sometimes to articulate those dark feelings. It's frightening, but liberating too. I wish we could all learn to talk about depression and anxiety the way we talk about broken bones, or even cancer.

    I'm far more prone to anxiety than depression, and full blown anxiety is paralyzing. My worst episodes were before breast cancer, and I was treated with therapy and meds, and the skills i acquired then helped me through my treatment.

    But thank you again for this post.
    Elaine

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    1. Dear Elaine
      I could write a post about anxiety, too! If I had to choose between the two, I would take depression over anxiety every time. Both are terrible, but depression is a wee bit more bearable.
      I am glad you gained skills to help you through breast cancer, which can cause all kinds of emotional upheaval.
      Write to me if you wish!
      Jamie

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  17. I think there can be little healing without the truth. Without it, we invest in our own facade and never face reality, because we're rewarded for doing so.

    Thank you for sharing.

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