[Issue #22] The Truth About Depression
A brief guide on depression and ways to manage it
“When you're lost in those woods, it sometimes takes you a while to realize that you are lost. For the longest time, you can convince yourself that you've just wandered off the path, that you'll find your way back to the trailhead any moment now. Then night falls again and again, and you still have no idea where you are, and it's time to admit that you have bewildered yourself so far off the path that you don't even know from which direction the sun rises anymore.”
- Elizabeth Gilbert
Sometimes the FaceTime call freezes when my therapist, Elise, is in the middle of pouring some age-old wisdom over me, attempting to get me to see a different view as I trudge and sputter my way up this mountain. But seconds later, the session continues to flow, right back into challenging my thoughts and the stories I’ve been telling myself.
Now, Elise and I go way back. I’ve seen a lot of therapists since the age of 15 and I’ve been with Elise the longest. To say I got lucky on finding her is an understatement of the largest kind. I’ve been seeing her for nearly 5 years and I am only now beginning to understand I’ve been standing up, let alone standing on a fucking mountain (this mountain called life). I mean, it’s not like I have the power to shift a mountain, or make it smaller. But I can climb down. Or I can take stock of the entire view, all 360 degrees by climbing to the tippy-top.
I can see the stunning green of redwood trees I saw in Northern California years ago while visiting a long-time friend (we worked together in the Air Force). I can look over the horizon, off to a place still so close to my skin, it gives me chills - this place where my wife and I proposed to each other, completely by happenstance (or universal destiny), beneath a beautiful, trickling Colorado waterfall in October, a glimpse of my future shining in her still-mesmerizing green eyes. I can look around and hear the singing waves of the Pacific Ocean, thrashing, then gliding, in and out, feeling the waves licking my feet as they inhale, then exhale outward again. I can see my step-kids giggling in the sea water, flinging sand and running around without care or worry about life’s many pressures.
I mean, I can see for miles.
But sometimes, the only view I can see is the one I’ve made up in my own head. Or rather, the view that my neurons (high on depression, PTSD, and anxiety) have made up for me. And that view is a dumpster fire. A junkyard of a past I can’t change. It’s filled with smoke from fires set by others and me, unable to fan out the flames. And this has left me dangling off the precipice of a life-changing decision.
I realize there’s two paths up this mountain.
To the left is the life I’ve always known. And while it’s been a tumultuous, terrifying, sometimes violent journey, it’s the one I’m used to. This is the life where I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop. This is the life where I continue blaming others, unwilling to regress into the safety of observation. This is the life where I wrap myself in martyrdom so thick, it clouds everything else that I am. This is the life I know.
To the right is a life much different. Not filled with a different history, because that point is where these two lives converge. But in this life, it’s filled with gratitude for having a life at all. This is the life where I allow the love of others to reach somewhere I’ve not even allowed myself to go. This is the life where I throw everything on the line and fully commit to continue trying. This is the life I believe I dream about at night. This is the life my soul wants.
It’s taken me 5 years to build a life I’m terrified of losing (more than I’m not) and now I’m at the point where I get to decide which life path I want to take to the top.
I don’t know when I internalized the belief that I get to choose (but it was probably from my time with my cognitive processing therapist (CPT) earlier this summer at UCLA’s Operation Mend) but I know it now. I believe that I have choices, now. I don’t always choose the…healthier path, but I’m a lot better at recognizing there’s even two paths in the first place. Sometimes it’s difficult to discern which is better, so…
What do we do when depression is kicking our asses?
Remember when we explored state and trait? Depression can be both. In healthy people who don’t suffer from chronic depression, depression for these types of people is more of a short-term state, maybe caused by the death of a loved one, the loss of a relationship, or a job loss. Whereas trait depression is someone like me, diagnosed with depression, on a few anti-depression medications, and no stranger to some long bouts of the deepest blues.
Depression is something that can sneak up on me or it can hit me like a hammer in the face as I round what I thought was a happy corner.
Why the fuck does that happen? How do I get smashed in the face with this hammer, right when I thought I was just headed out for a nice stroll?
Because, that’s how my depression disorder manifests. It’s the neurons all wired wonky, from chronic trauma of all different kinds. And even though I’ve been in and out of therapy since the age of 15, depression still got (and gets) a hold of me. A lot of my decisions compounded my trauma (thereby increasing the severity and potency of my depression), and I dug a lot of my own graves without knowing it (or giving a shit about my life) in the past with some terrible decisions (like doing hard drugs while Active Duty, drinking too much, and being a bully).
I have never felt the kind of anguish like that which chronic depression brings. It haunts me.
The anguish of always feeling as though I have to choose right or left. And then not to think in such black and white terms. And then to remember to breathe through whatever super uncomfortable feeling is flooding me (this builds emotional resilience, which is one of the most fundamental skills we can grasp through therapy) and really know that this state I’m in will pass. Nothing lasts forever. Not galaxies, not cells, not days, not depression.
What does my depression look like? It looks grumpy and sad. It looks like a bad day wrapped inside a bad week stuffed into a bad hour and crammed down my throat. It looks like I don’t wanna play the game anymore. It looks like sleeping all day in warm pajamas or eating way too many cookies. It looks like giving in to my state emotion (even though, yes, it’s a trait as well), instead of out-thinking it.
When I’m finally able to collect myself and contact my inner wise Self for guidance, I’m often led down the path of least resistance, which is working through my depression while not giving into it, but holding it and allowing space for it.
Ways I work through my depression:
Exercise - You already know this, and it’s a form of self-care (I aim for at least a half hour 5 days a week);
Meditation - I have had to learn to sit still. Elise says you can’t have a quiet mind and a loud body - once the body calms, so does the mind;
Creating - I’m not great at it, but I love playing my guitars. A friend gifted them to me and I’m eternally grateful to him because I don’t think it’s a far stretch to say playing has helped calm my entire central nervous system (which could be a similar effect of music therapy). Working on this newsletter gives my soul a place to anchor (and wouldn’t be without you reading, for which I am also eternally grateful). And making art, (inspired by my wife, who’s an incredible fucking artist!);
Learning - I have a love of learning and having hobbies that keep my hands and brain busy have been a key element to my ability to engage in a more peaceful present;
Sleeping - I’m lucky to have an Apple watch and I use it to track my sleep. I used to be vehemently against wearing it to bed, but my sleep struggle finally became painful enough for me to try. I wore it when I was at UCLA and I got an app that tracks my sleep. I have no idea how accurate it is, but I can say it definitely seems accurate and it’s helped my sleep. Watch or no watch, getting enough quality sleep is so crucial to our mental health and it can be a double edged sword. I have a few meds that made me tired, so I take them at night to help with my sleep. I do all of the above things as much as I am truly able and I began doing some quiet time before bed which seems to be helping. When I get more sleep, my workouts are better. When my workouts are awesome, I can’t help but to (usually) have a good day;
Honoring My Body - I’m currently working on getting back in touch with my physical body. Trauma and the military have severed my once-innate attunement to my physical self and hunger cues. For me, this means trying to be more aware of when I’m hungry and when I’m full and honoring both;
Self-Compassion - Trying to be more kind and gentle to myself, especially in moments of depression, shame, anger, or guilt has helped change my interior narrative. Learning to be non-judgmental has been quite difficult for me, but as time has passed, I’ve begun being much more compassionate with myself about my mistakes, and my limitations. Accepting my limitations means no longer fighting them, like trying to fend off a ravenous animal. We all have limitations. It’s part of what makes us all unique.
Depression still gets me. It still kicks my ass. But, over time, and with an incredible amount of emotional work, support, and hope, I’ve managed to find the crossroad I never thought existed. It’s been worthy of the terrifying, sometimes death-defying and painful climb.
And I can see it all. My life. My happiness. My options and choices. My dreams, from the fucking top.
Has depression been a longtime frenemy of yours or does it ebb and flow with life? How do you manage this type of negative affect emotion while your wiser Self is off-line? And if you suffer from chronic depression, how do you keep it at bay? Journal it, think on it, leave a comment, or email me: ADPurchas@gmail.com and let us (or me) know.
“I go to seek a Great Perhaps.”
-François Rabelais
Reading this, I'm struck by the fact that I'm depressed a lot more often and a lot longer than I thought. I thought it was only those days where I just want to lay in bed angry, scared, despondent. Luckily those awful days don't happen too often, but I definitely let the mood feed me until it became unmanageable. Your article was a perfect reminder that I can not only manage those horrible days, but even what I labeled a "good" day. I've actually been thinking how long it's been since I laughed and genuinely smiled freely. I need to fix that... Thank you. Your articles are fantastic and reminds me to take off the mask and acknowledge I'm not okay.
I was also struck with a realization that I have more days dancing with depression than I thought. The illustration on what depression looks like is fantastic.