Recently I got to visit my hometown of Houston, Texas which was so good and sweet for the soul. While I was there, several people asked me if I was still writing, and I had to honestly answer “not really”. When you’re given time away from your daily routine it gives your mind some time to decompress and process things you’ve been pushing off. On my long drive home to Texas, I realized that as of late I’ve been dealing with depression again–the main sign being apathy. When I’m in this state, it feels like the well where all of my words come from has run dry. It’s not that I’m burnt out–yet I am so tired. I have faced chronic depression as early as the age of fourteen, some seasons of it more serious than others. I have vivid memories of crying on birthdays and holidays for absolutely no reason at all, other than feeling very emotionally overwhelmed with no cause to point to and feeling a vast darkness trying to weigh me down that I didn’t want and didn’t know how to get rid of. I often forget that depression is a cyclical companion in my life– I wouldn’t call it a friend, but it is a constant presence, even when it’s gone for a time it always comes back. It’s a presence that in the past has made me wonder if taking my own life would be the only way I could feel any relief from myself.

Is it an illness or a feeling? Is it a moment or a lifestyle? When you’re in it, it’s hard to tell where it’s all stemming from, but all you want it to do is leave. I can remember the first time I told my mom I was dealing with depression. I was nineteen and had been silently fighting it off for years. I was terrified to admit it, because there was still so much stigma around mental health. Everything inside me felt dramatic and heavy, and the emotion that encompassed it all was shame. I thought that being a Christian and having Christ in my life meant that any hard emotions I had were negative somehow. That there was no space for openly grieving, or being angry, or confused–I felt like it all had to be processed or dealt with privately. This led to feeling isolated and melancholy inside, while outwardly trying to be joy to those around me. In the moments when I would share the heaviness that lived inside me with someone, a feeling of guilt accompanied the conversation, a small voice telling me that I shouldn’t be sharing so much or anything at all because I was burdening someone else with the complexities of the anxieties and grief that swirled around in my heart.

I remember reading “Surprised By Joy” by C.S. Lewis in college and feeling so understood when he described how his inner and outer worlds were like two different places. There was so much going on within me that I was at a loss for words to articulate my inner world to the outer world; wanting to help them feel more unified rather than two separate realities. Ultimately, it was somehow possible to truly enjoy life and the people around you, finding joy in your job, friends, and Christ, while also wrestling with grief, anger, and frustration within. It’s confusing to me that two opposing realities can exist at the same time but both be true. I can be content while also being discontent.

I think this is why writing has always been so important for me personally. It brings out the feelings and thoughts I try to stuff down. Writing helps me say the real things that are hard to say out loud and express it fully. I don’t want to admit that I am depressed because it makes me feel weak. I worry that if people know how heavy I feel inside or if I allow them to see the way my mind processes, they’ll stay a million miles away, or worse, question my faith….and goodness, that’s the last thing I want. I need people in my life to help ground me in reality and truth. Good friends have sat beside me and been present with me when the depression is pouring gunk over my head, when the shame of depression wants to hide me away and get me to let all of my responsibilities go.

I can identify certain thoughts or feelings that lead to depression, such as disappointment, loss, or overwhelming amounts of fear, but something else I have to acknowledge is that for the type of PCOS (Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome) I have, depression and anxiety are my biggest symptoms. So there’s a part that I can control, and there’s a large part that I can’t because it is literally dictated by a chronic illness that destabilizes the hormones in my body. That reality is frustrating and one I wrestle with constantly; it looks like having to remind myself that even though I can’t see it, my body is internally fighting against my mind feeling stable. Fighting an invisible foe is a hard battle to invite others into because it feels like you made it up.

Here’s what depression looks like for me: I’m less caring and understanding, I lean towards apathy–having a general lack of interest in life, and don’t have a lot of room to help anyone process hard things, getting out of bed is an undertaking because sleeping is the only escape I have from my mind, I’m not as kind or joyful, and it’s hard to muster up the motivation to care for myself. The most painful part is that I deeply desire to be kind and joyful to my very core and shame creeps in when I’m not that person.

Is this something I will likely face my whole life? Probably. Do I believe that it could get better and disappear completely? Absolutely. I think lifestyle choices can sometimes help, and I also believe that God is a healer. Yet while living in the tension that God can heal but he hasn’t, what is there in the in between? If I know that this has come up in my life consistently, how do I cope in healthier ways?

Over the years, I have let more friends in to this reality so depression doesn’t feel as much like a dirty word rolling off my tongue. In the current depression season I’m in, I decided to out myself to my counselor and tell her that I am good at sounding okay (because I want to be okay and saying it makes it feel real), when I’m really not. The truth is that I can logically explain everything I’ve experienced, why it happened, all the possibilities for why I feel something, and explain it away like it no longer affects me because I identified the feelings.

I also want to acknowledge that often there is absolutely no reason or cause for depression–which can be more frustrating. Having a reason to be down, makes it more manageable. Having no reason at all feels a bit crazy. This is the version of depression I most often face due to my chronic illness—a sadness with no root other than hormonal imbalances. This aspect is important to highlight because I have often been told to stop dwelling on negative things or to just do something, like exercise or eat better and then it will all be fixed! I can say that some good habits can help with alleviating symptoms but it does not make them disappear. I can do everything I’m “supposed” to do and still be depressed. Comments from others that assume your state of being is your own fault lead right back into shame, making an often isolating illness even more lonely. Don’t hear me wrong, we each have personal responsibility to get what we need when it comes to our mental health, just like we have to go to the doctor to get a cast for a broken arm. What I am saying is that those who have never experienced depression can sometimes be more harmful than helpful in how they talk to those in the middle of it, because it’s more complex than it is sometimes made out to be. It’s more than being sad.

In writing this piece, all I really wanted was to be honest about the things that I haven’t even been admitting to myself. I’m still depressed and life is still good and the place I live, people I get to spend time with, and job I get to do are still an answer to many prayers. I still feel thankful and joyful while also struggling with missing all of the people that feel like home, leaving my home of 20 something years, facing disappointments from relationships that didn’t go the way I wanted them to, and attempting to overcome the mountain that is being depressed and living alone, all while not wanting my struggles to prevent me from building a new life. Along with being honest, I wanted to shed light on the realities of depression–while it looks different for everyone, there are many people who have never dealt with it in a long term way so I hope that if that’s you this helps you to gain some understanding for those in your life who are depressed. If you have or are facing this personally, I hope that this has helped you know that shame is a wall that shouldn’t stop you from seeking people you can trust with the darkness that tries to envelop you. You don’t have to be alone in this and I hope you’re not.

Life is hard, no doubt, yet God is still so good and faithful to stand beside us and lead us through the valleys. He’s present. Books in the Bible that have helped to fight feelings of shame when it comes to depression are Psalms and Ecclesiastes. The book of Ecclesiastes has been especially relatable to me in many seasons of depression. It helps give me permission to process the existential and heavy thoughts with God, finding a safe place in my maker, the one whom I don’t ever have to hide from. In Christ I am fully accepted, loved, and seen—every part of me. How vulnerable and beautiful is the relationship we can have with God? It overwhelms me!

If you’ve read this blog, I’m praying for you that the God who made you and loves you would feel so near, bringing comfort to you in whatever thoughts and feelings are reeling inside of you.

May the Lord bless you and keep you!