Depression
Day 11
Image courtesy of Rebecca Webb Wilson, Hawkeye Nature Photography
Truly I am on the verge of falling, and my pain is always with me. —Psalm 38:17
Feeling depressed is a normal part of the grief journey. As support drops off, as the days turn into weeks and then months, as the shocking finality of our loss sinks in, we may find ourselves descending to depths of melancholy that we had not imagined possible. If this is where you are, you may be asking yourself:
• I’ve had a good cry; shouldn’t I feel better now?
• Everyone else seems to be getting on with their lives; why can’t I?
• Aren’t we supposed to buck up and be strong?
• Is there something wrong with me?
We live in a culture that abhors weakness and rewards avoidance of vulnerability, so for many of us, asking for help is really, really hard. When we have a broken bone we don’t deny ourselves a visit to the ER just to prove how tough we are, but we may steer clear of medical intervention for our emotional injuries. It takes a special kind of courage to admit that we are not invincible. To do so, strange as it sounds, is an act of compassion toward ourselves.
Feeling depressed is normal; becoming frozen in a depressed state is not. Occasional loss of appetite or having sleepless nights periodically is typical; if you haven’t eaten for days or haven’t been able to get out of bed for a week, that is a different story. Wanting to be alone for awhile is to be expected; if you aren’t answering your phone at all and are unavailable to the people you care about and who care for you, it may be time to call for reinforcements. Consider finding a counselor or support group. Talk to your doctor about whether an anti-depressant would help. There’s no disgrace in getting to the end of your rope.
Underneath the ice there is a current that will carry us to newness of life. We do not have to find our way to this current by ourselves.
O God, help me trust others to hold me up when I am on the verge of falling. Amen.
