Inside The Chronically Depressed Mind

I always wonder what it would be like to have a normal brain. Ya know, a normal brain that thinks normal thoughts. A brain that isn’t constantly trying to kill me. A brain that doesn’t feel like it’s out to get me.

A brain that doesn’t wake up at 3 am, crying because I don’t want to do today. I want to pull the covers over my head and hide out here for a while.

There’s nothing special about today – it’s just Wednesday.

And the problem with hiding out here for a while is, “a while” could mean a couple hours or a week.

Yesterday when my psychiatrist called my depression “treatment-resistant” I felt it in my soul.

It brought some level of peace. Which seems odd, if I think about it too much. Which, of course I’m thinking about it too much, because Mary’s my name and overthinking’s my game. 💁🏻‍♀️

But I think it brought me a bit of peace because it told me I’m not doing it wrong. I’m not failing at getting better. My depression is simply as stubborn as I am. Whoopie. 😑

I’ve had people suggest affirmations, yoga, praying more, gratitude journals, exercise, going vegan, vitamins, shakes, smiling to trick my body into thinking I’m happy, or this one that really makes me want to vomit: choose happy. 🤮

Here’s the thing… There’s nothing inherently wrong with any of those. (Except for maybe “choose happy”…no thanks, I think I’d rather allow myself to feel a full range of emotions.)

But those things don’t cure depression. Can they help? Sure. Do they help sometimes? Sure.

Does it feel incredibly invalidating and defeating when I’m struggling to get out of bed in the morning, and someone says, “Just choose happy”? Yes.

If I could just choose happy, or gratitude journal my way out of this, or eat vegan and solve all of my problems, trust me, I would. If I had to stand on my head for 2 hours a day in order to feel better…I would.

But that’s not how this works.

And I’m angry about it. I’m frustrated. I’m exhausted. And those emotions take up a lot of energy. So does showing up at school and giving my best to those kiddos every single day. So does showing up for my classes and doing school work. So does writing. So does eating. So does recovery.

These things take a lot of energy, which most days I don’t feel like I have.

So how do we do all the things when we don’t have the energy?

1. Protect the things that give you energy.
   
   Become a fierce protector of those things that give you energy. If that’s writing, drawing, playing games with your kids, doing crafty things, hanging out with friends, going for a nice, long walk, cooking, spending time with your family…whatever it is that gives you energy, protect those things. Get those things on your calendar.
   
   
2. Look for the little joys.
   
   When you see an opportunity for joy, TAKE IT.
   When you see an opportunity for the light to get in, even if only for a moment, open up the window and let the light in!
   When you find the things that offer hope, cling to those things.
   
   
3. Cling to hope like you cling to life.
   
   Hope can be hard to come by – especially when you’re depressed. That doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist.
   I find hope in watching other people overcome. I find hope in the laughter of my baby cousins. I find hope in the relentless optimism of my students. I find hope in the fact that, to this date, I’ve made it through 100% of my bad days, and that’s a pretty damn great track record. (That’s not to say I’ve come out of those days unscathed. But I’ve made it, nonetheless.) I find hope in other people’s stories. I find hope in the fact that I’m not alone in my struggle. I find hope in my team, who has my best interest in mind. I find hope in the consistency of the way the sun rises every single day, without fail.

And also, know there will be days, that you wake up at 3 am crying, because you don’t want to do today – for no other reason besides you’re tired. Living in a brain and body that is constantly trying to berate you is exhausting. Existing in a body and mind that is always fighting against itself – to the death, it seems – is utterly draining.

It’s hard. And I could tell you that you are tough. You are strong. You are gentle. You are worthy. You are capable. You are all the good things. But I’m not sure that’s what you need to hear. I don’t think it’s what I need to hear.

I think I need to hear that I am no less strong, just because I’m in a constant battle with your mind. In fact, I’d say that makes me even stronger…even when it doesn’t feel like it.

I think I need to hear that this is hard, and it’s okay that it’s hard. And it may be hard for a while. But there is hope, and hope’s not going anywhere.

I think I need to hear that I’m not alone. My favorite poet has a line that says, “The most healing thing we can do is remind ourselves over and over and over, other people feel this too.” And I think that’s true.

This is hard. Depression is hard. Treatment-resistant depression is a new level of hard, because it has a built-in hope vacuum, sucking out all the hope.

So, here I am at 3:50am, tired eyes and weary soul, spilling what’s left of my heart, in hopes this will reach someone else who may be in the same boat. Because the boat is less lonely when we’re rowing together.

💛💛