The Gift of Depression

Ugh, that title makes me want to slap myself.

But in my effort to "Struggle Good," I've learned that there's some truth to "if you can't beat 'em, join 'em."

My name is Sarah and I have the disease: depression. It's truly a dis-ease. I do not feel at ease when depression is in full force. It's a disease that has phases of remission and returns. Currently I'm doing pretty awesome, all my struggling is working- medicine, lights, and some moving around. But I don't have much control over the day I wake up and my body goes "ooof- nope- today just will not do." Sometimes it just will not do. And that's OK.

You might ask: "What do you do for a living to keep yourself happy?"

I work as a hospice chaplain.

"Oh, OK. What do you do as a hobby to ease the depression in your down-time?"

I'm working on a book about my family story in the Holocaust. I also write sometimes about depression and current events/politics/religion/philosophy. I enjoy dabbling with existential thoughts.

"Super. Seems normal." You might say. Buuuuut, I'm guessing you're not thinking that. You're probably thinking- "lady- you got problems. Why the hell would you do those things, knowing full well you have the capacity to nose dive into a black hole of depression? People who study the Holocaust and hang with dying people need to be like, waaayyy up in the happiness stratosphere so they can handle the bummer of a time." You clearly have a lot of opinions about this. Or at least I am imagining you do.

Here's the conundrum: my disease equips me for the sad stuff. I am perhaps more qualified to hang out with the dying, and tuck into the details of horror in the Holocaust.

There's one reason for my qualification: via Henri Nouwen, the concept of the "the wounded healer." This simple, yet profound idea is that those who are wounded and feel the pain of the world are more able to understand the wounded among them, and therefore able to assist in healing through that understanding or empathy. It's why support groups are so effective. We don't need someone with zero experience of soul-wrenching grief telling us "it gets better." We need a co-traveler, or someone who has pioneered before us on a path even more treacherous than ours. We'll follow a guide that has been here before, not one who just flew in for the cookies at the welcome station.

There's another reason I haven't explored as much... my very illness is my method for healing. Like allergy shots. I have been dealt bouts of sadness and struggle that have no logical bearing. I get depressed or my energy depleted for literally no reason at all. I have to deal with that. My tools for functioning despite nothing helping me function- are well sharpened. I'm like a video game character that has ALL the weapons necessary for the battle (I might still lose but I'm doing better than the newcomer with barely a shield).

I have a skill set for functioning while facing the existential wall. A happy person may not have those tools. When confronted with darkness, their eyes have to adjust from the blinding sunlight they spend their lives in. My life has episodes of light and dark, and my eyes don't have to adjust as much when facing death or genocide. I also know, because of my experience, that the darkness never lasts forever. And that in that darkness, there are often glittering specks of light like stars in the night sky. I'm adept at looking for that. I'm not as afraid of the dark, and I'm skilled at finding my way and feeling around for clues and sparkles of hope. I've been here before, it's not so scary.

I also know that I'm not alone, and that I can't do it alone. People who are inexperienced with certain challenges feel ashamed about those challenges and attempt to get through it on their own. They don't want to lean on someone else when they expect they should be able to handle it. I have tread that path and found it totally terrifying and ineffective. I lean hard. I am in a circle of dominoes. When I lean hard, it might knock someone over a bit, but with all of us leaning- somehow we all help each other stay upright, even if a little sideways for a bit.

The biggest tool in fighting depression is discarding shame. It's one of my most powerful weapons ever. Without shame I can use all my tools to fight like a warrior, and I might lose a few but I'll win a bunch. And when your battle comes, I'll lend a hand, I'll let you lean on me, I'll know that you and I both have the power to win, eventually. Shame makes it where we feel stupid for even showing up, for needing to fight. Discard that shame and we are living life, battles and beach trips mashed together- all worth our time and all worthy of our showing up.

When I look at the Holocaust I can weep and rejoice at the same time. I know that humanity is despicable because I've hung out in the dungeon for waaaay too long, which makes me look at despicable things as a sort of a morbid source of "well see there's that terrible thing- now I feel even more justified feeling this way." But I also know that humanity is gorgeous, because once I let go of the shame of feeling sorrow- I am able to also fully embrace the emotion of joy. I can sit and look at a person doing something kind and selfless (no not those cheesy FB videos where people record themselves helping a homeless person)- more like the millions of tiny good things like when someone moves a turtle out of a busy road. We do big and little good things all the time. Like when someone risks their life every day to hike with people over a mountain to freedom from tyranny or famine. There are thousands of these type of people whose names were never recorded. Like the man who snuck my Grandfather across the German/Netherland border without uttering a WORD. I'll never know who he was.

And then there's the sunset. Beauty always reminds me that there is a source of Good that is constant. Beauty is the most useless and useful reminder of goodness. Useless because beauty does not feed my body, useful because that's the whole point! Beauty has no other purpose but to delight, and what else but Goodness would dream of such inefficiency?!

So, my depression is my staff. It's that cane that shows my weakness and strength at the same time. Kind of like when you see a war veteran with a missing limb. That person knows things we don't know. That person is strong as hell. And when you are as strong as hell - you can beat it.