God said to march

For months I have despaired. Years, maybe. My heart and my mind have almost ceased to work, absolutely pummeled by depression and suffering. I've struggled to to escape fear's grip on me, but to no avail. The depression spawned fear, and fear spawned hopelessness, which in turn spawned a sort of paralysis. The physical illnesses and financial struggles have not helped.

For quite a while now, scary thoughts have taken hold of me. When I drive, I pass telephone poles and trees and I think to myself, "I could do it. I've just got to take my seat belt off and I can do it, and then things wouldn't be so hard." Fortunately, I recognize these thoughts for what they are: twisted, sick, effects of depression and anxiety. And luckily, after talking with my doctor, we agreed that these thoughts don't make me suicidal. It's not "I want to kill myself," it's "I wish I wanted to kill myself." It's wanting an end of suffering, but not in that way. This is all hard to admit, especially because I grew up in a really bad situation, and I feel like I've become weak; back then I was able to tell myself things would get better, but now I feel like "things will get better" is just wishful thinking. But maybe I haven't gotten weaker - maybe the reason 15 year old Charlotte could feel hopeful was the fact that there was an endpoint: graduating and leaving for college. But me, now.. I have no such comfort. 

But what I actually want to focus on is the possibility of change. 

A couple of days ago I read Rome Sweet Home, a story of conversion to the Catholic Church by Scott and Kimberly Hahn. As I was reading, I was struck by how earnestly they both prayed - for guidance, for help, to give thanks. Now obviously I've prayed before. But, if I'm being honest with myself, I have never quite poured my heart out to our Lord. I've said plenty of Our Fathers, but I've never been very personal in prayer... and I'm a little embarrassed to admit that I never gave God my full trust. I think this lack of trust likely stems from two decades of being let down (to put it very, very nicely) by parents, parent figures, and most adults I tried to trust as a child and again as a teen. Mind you, while this makes my lack of faith in God understandable, it doesn't make it justifiable. Going forward, this is going to be one of the three main tasks I've set for myself to get better. The other two: becoming physically healthy and in shape and; becoming mentally healthy and seeking more help. These three tasks were decided two days ago... after I prayed - really prayed - for guidance. 

I had finished reading the Hahn's conversion story, and I wondered why I had never prayed like them.. and I knew I wanted to. Both Dr. and Mrs. Hahn had described moments of "sensing" God's responses to their prayers. I know this isn't the proper or good way to react, but I was downright jealous. 

Several hours later (or maybe the next day), I found myself sitting on my bedroom floor, balling my eyes out. I was in the middle of sorting every single item I own and attempting to organize them in the little amount of available storage space. I was doing this because the clutter was overwhelming me, so much so that I couldn't write, couldn't read, couldn't paint. And I desperately needed to do those things; I've started a small (very small) business just so I can earn ten bucks here, ten bucks there. And I know creating things to sell would alleviate some of my depression symptoms. 

So there I was, unable to make anything to sell. All I could think was, "I could be making money. Not a lot, but when there's no food, $20 is a big deal." I felt pathetic. I was so angry at myself for letting a messy room stop me from doing something that could really help me. 

And if you've ever been depressed, you know that one bad thought leads to another, and soon you're unable to move, unable to do anything.

I just started crying. Crying and crying... and thinking about Rome Sweet Home, and feeling as though now was the moment, now I needed to trust (or tell myself I trust - fake it til you make it) and I needed to humble myself and earnestly pray. I said a lot of things in those moments, one of them along the lines of, "When the Hahns prayed for guidance, they sensed your response. Please, please let me sense your answer to just this one prayer. Just this one - I'm at my breaking point and don't know what to do."

And at first I felt nothing. My sobs had subsided, but that was it. I started wondering if I had done something wrong. Maybe I put too much emphasis on the Hahns? Maybe pleading for an outright answer was akin to trying to command God, which no man can do. And then I felt an all too familiar stabbing pain from my liver and lamented: I can't keep doing this. Hunched over and reaching for my bottle of ibuprofen, I had to pause and gather myself, because as suddenly as I felt that stab, I felt the word "march." Whoa. 

"Wait, wait."

"Really?!" 

"Wait! ...was that actually you?"

It wasn't as though I heard another voice other than my own. Morgan Freeman didn't narrate. Angels didn't appear, the heavens did not open, the earth did not shake. Really, I didn't hear the word "march" but I felt it. I felt it everywhere and I knew (and know) that it did not come from me.

Needless to say, I felt like a kid at Christmas. I was elated. I was giddy, overcome with joy. God had, however vaguely, answered.

For the last two days I have pondered this. I have spent nearly every waking moment wondering what was meant by this command to march. Part of me wished for more specific instructions. At the end of the day, though, I think he meant to say that I am not weak (how can I be, when I am baptized and he dwells in me and I in him?), and that I need to push forward. March into war, do battle with depression. March, continue to march, even when everything around me is broken, even when I am broken, like soldiers must do even when things seem bleak. March with my head held high, don't cower out of fear that others will think me fat, sickly, unattractive. March like Joan of Arc. March like the archangel Michael. March like Dorothy Day. 

I believe I was told to march in faith. Set goals, have dreams, and lean into Jesus to achieve them. Most importantly, continue marching forward, even when cloaked in misery. In the end, maybe the suffering will stop, maybe it won't. Maybe I'm living out my time in Purgatory while still here. Perhaps I'll reach old age and still be battling these demons. But if that's the case, I will remember the oft-evoked truth: joy cometh in the morning. So if I don't escape suffering in this life, I will find joy the moment I arrive in the next, as long as I'm steadfast in my convictions, marching toward the ultimate goal of joy: everlasting life with Jesus. 

Or maybe God meant something important will happen next March. Who knows? 

Charlotte  

Organization is key

and all that jazz. 

It's been a hot minute since I published a blog post. Slacker. I've been trying to get on top of stuff - mostly medical and financial, real cheery stuff. Blogging has taken a back seat to some of my other priorities but hopefully as things straighten out I can get going again. Not going to stress about it. 

As I'm trying to change things and get on a routine, I've tried to pay attention to the little things too. I've noticed that things as small as keeping my drawers organized or my bed made etc etc add to my happiness and totally, totally, totally help with stress. So in that spirit... I finally got myself a hanging jewelry organizer. It's not too fancy but it's cute and it does the job and I've quite enjoyed it. Let me tell you - searching through a bin filled with jewelry for a tiny earring was not ideal. I'd end up dumping the entire bin out on to my bed.. and it'd stay there all day because I'd be rushing out of the door without time to clean up my mess. I try not to do that anymore. I procrastinate less and organize more and the little things add up to smoother days. 

And so! Behold:

I cannot put into words how much I love this thing. It's so practical. Practical is good. And! Freeing up that bin which had been holding my jewelry meant I finally found a home for all my nail polish. I threw that along with a few other bins into one big basket with all my self care stuff: 

I know this is incredibly minor/non-blog-worthy, but you know, it's the little things. Also, as anyone who reads this blog (hey Liz) knows, I have depression. Staying very organized is one of the ways I stay on top of it. Maybe I'll write about the other things (reading, routine, exercise, etc) soon. That way everyone who stumbles upon my blog can enjoy similarly short and meaningless posts. :) 

Until then

Charlotte

PS check out this incredibly gaudy ring I found at a garage sale. I normally hate stuff like this but for some reason, I LOVE it. 

Bullet Journal

My friend Dana introduced me to this neat idea of a bullet journal. The best description I can quickly come up with is that it's like a planner on steroids (which is exactly what I told Liz, who thinks she'd benefit from a bullet journal too). I have, and love, a regular planner, but it's mostly just appointments. I don't put all the little things in there, like moisturizing or making the bed or exercising. I don't track my books in my planner. I don't write down how much money I spend in my planner. The bullet journal though? It is promising. I thrive from checklists (I think it's a mix of my personality and the fact that I'm depressed - checking things off is the best), and the bullet journal is allllll checklists, baby. So I made one. I invested (lol $7, holla big moneyyy) in a journal yesterday. I picked one with a train because I love trains and it reminds me of The Hogwarts Express. And today I got it started.  

See what I mean? It's got everything. I adore checking little things off, even if it's something like brushing teeth or showering (1. the more you check, the more momentum you get, the more productive you become and 2. sometimes depression means you straight up don't care about self-health and self-care, so even things like "put on makeup" and "lather your body with soap" are good to write down). Sometimes I can get to feeling a bit inadequate - I start thinking about "all those people" who don't need check lists or planners or journals to function. But I gotta ditch that mentality. These are things that work for me.  

My bullet journal isn't very pretty. I opted to just start it now even though all I've got is a pen and a few highlighters. I considered waiting until Sunday, after this snowstorm clears up, so I could go get colored pencils. But... I figure I can make it pretty later. I've got a lot of goals for 2016, not to mention a whole host of life and lifestyle changes I want to make, and I'm betting this journal can help me out. 

Here's to achieving goals and forming good habits! 

__ 

Charlotte 

On Being Fat

I was talking to my bud Liz a few days ago about how I find certain things annoying. Specifically, I roll my eyes at some of the fat-positive articles out there that will do anything possible to avoid using the word "fat." I saw one this morning that said something like, "here are pictures of individuals with double chins." 

That is true. I am an individual with a double chin. But wow, what a cumbersome title. I get that some people (and I guess let's specifically talk about women because 1. I can talk about that from experience and 2. most articles I see are aimed at women, since most people don't care if men are fat or not) don't like being called "fat" and/or don't like it used as an adjective. Fine. (Although, that might risk maintaining "fat" as a dirty word.) Then title your article "Pictures of all kinds of people!" or "You can have a double chin and still look hot as hell!" 

Rantity rant rant but this got me thinking... I have no clue how to talk about being fat. I know how I feel about it, but talking about it can be a bit like walking on eggshells. Some skinny people really are not fond of hearing about it. Some of them equate fat positivity with skinny shaming, some think that being fat is an unhealthy and therefore irresponsible way of living. Some fat people don't like talking about it for other reasons; Some of us agree with the healthy lifestyle thing, some of us don't. Some of us are uncomfortable talking about weight, some of us aren't. And so on. So I'm just gonna talk about a few of the complexities and dilemmas that go on in *my* head. Maybe you can relate, maybe not. 

  

I think it takes about two decades, but at some point we mature enough to realize that every person is beautiful. The problem is that an unbelievable amount of people will tell fat people, and fat women especially, that they shouldn't feel good about themselves or confident or beautiful until they're a "healthy" weight. 

Oh man, that pisses me off like nothing else. 

For starters, it's just not true. Every person is born with beauty that can't be measured on a BMI chart. 

On top of that, I've never met a single person who is motivated by self-hate. I got fat when I got depressed. Not necessarily because I was feeling badly about myself - it's just that my depression doesn't kid around with that "loss of interest" thing. I stopped doing anything. I went from playing sports, enjoying hiking and walks, plus being socially active to doing nothing. Looking back, it makes me really sad. I feel like in some ways I missed out on literal years of my life. But yes. I got fat and that's when I started to feel bad about the way I looked. (To clarify, I thought I was fat before this time. I was around 160-180 when active, and I thought I was a whale. Now I look at pictures and I think I was a good size. But before the depression and the 100 extra pounds, thinking I was fat didn't change how I acted. I didn't hesitate to play a game of basketball or to put on nice clothes.) I'm completely certain that when I started to think I was completely hideous, it became almost impossible for me to try to lose weight. 

Feeling like you are beautiful (or at least that there is something attractive about you, more on that in a sec) makes a world of difference. It's easier to motivate yourself when you have a little confidence. In my case, I lost exactly zero pounds when I was at my worst. I used to walk around in jeans and a baggy sweatshirt, which is fine if you want to be walking around in jeans and a baggy sweatshirt. It's problematic if you let that become your uniform for no reason other than you think it hides your fat. Hell, I used to put basically no effort into getting dressed simply because I thought it was useless, that it was flat out impossible for me to look nice at that weight. I didn't even give thought to my face or hair. I used to just throw that shit up in a bun and go. Skin care? Lotion? Nope. Wasn't worth it, there wasn't a point - I was fat and therefore could not look nice. I wasn't going to waste time trying.

You can see where I'm going with this. People should feel confident regardless of how they look. Heavy people should feel confident whether or not they're trying to lose weight - and it's damn near impossible to start losing weight if you're filled with self-loathing.

People who tell fat women they shouldn't feel beautiful or confident until they're a "healthy" weight are misguided at best and monsters at worst. Don't be one of those people.

"Feeling beautiful" is easier said than done, though. I am not some shiny, shimmering well of confidence and kind of pathetically?, I usually have to fake confidence to have any semblance of real confidence. When I finally realized that confidence was probably necessary for, you know, everything, I started to look for little things about myself that I thought were attractive. I know myself and I know that becoming confident will probably take literal decades, but I also know I can trick myself into anything, include a better state of mind. Finding and focusing on something attractive meant I could slowly lean myself into confidence and then into lifestyle changes.

But I was (and still often am) a cesspool of self-doubt. Originally, I couldn't find anything good to focus on. I know. But luckily I have friends who don't fuck around and they helped in that department. Ha, this cracks me up: one of my friends even sends me this song from time to time, usually with a smiley face.

I guess she wants to remind me that just because *society* doesn't put big asses on a pedestal doesn't mean we shouldn't.

Which is another point: I've had to just change how I look at certain things. I used to want to look sleek and elegant and basically like Kate Middleton. In reality I'm a frizzified ginger with a body that is... not like Kate Middleton's. Instead of holding a lifelong funeral for my dream look, I've had to instead embrace having uncontrollable, huge red hair and an ass that doesn't quit, as it were.

It's been freeing. I let my hair do its thing (usually). I get a lot of compliments on it, which is cool. Remember the part where I said I have trouble with confidence and I have to fake it? Well, it might not be ideal (because it should probably come from within), but some of my confidence comes from other people, from knowing I look alright. And it's a sort of domino effect from there (or snowball effect?! One of those.). Start feeling better about myself, start treating myself better, start wearing clothes that actually fit (bye, sweatshirt!), realize I can look attractive. You get it. And once all that happened, it became easier to lose weight. Not everyone wants to lose weight, but I definitely did/do, so it was a welcome change.

I guess my point is that confidence is important. And luckily, it's possible to learn to be confident even if you've grown up without much sense of self-worth.

But there's another sort of difficult topic that comes up whenever we talk about weight: health.

I'm not going to pretend I don't get especially annoyed when very thin people subtly berate fat people by throwing the word "health" into the mix. "I'm so glad she loves her body as is but doesn't she worry about health?!" I've seen that comment so many times on various social media posts or stories. If you're honestly concerned about a friend's weight affecting her health, that's one thing. You hopefully know how to talk to your friends and know what boundaries may or may not exist. I have two friends who I know have worried about my health in the past, specifically because of my weight. To me at least, that's different from commenting on a stranger's picture. It doesn't offend me, and since it's a conversation with friends, everything is explained.

The problem is when folks (men and other women alike) feel the need to comment on other people, especially people they don't know. "She should worry about her health" is, most often, a thinly veiled fat-shaming comment. The way I know this is that I've never seen anyone post a comment on a picture of a bikini clad and extremely tanned thin women lamenting the apparent excessive exposure to sun. I've read oodles of lighthearted posts that glorify drinking loads of alcohol - I've not seen comments from a concerned citizenry outlining the health risks of alcohol. But as soon as there's a post that features a heavy woman looking damn fine, suddenly everyone is a doctor. It isn't a general concern for others if the only time it appears is in the presence of a fat person. 

And though it's beside the point, being "heavy" doesn't necessarily mean a person is unhealthy. I've been losing weight, but I'm still obese. And just a few weeks ago I was still technically morbidly obese. And guess what?! My cholesterol is just dandy! My joints aren't buckling under my weight! Blood sugar is A-OK. If you read this blog even semi-regularly, you know I have health issues. Not one of them has been caused by weight. Being fat doesn't mean you're ignoring your health, and I really wish people would stop acting like it. 

That said, is there any truth to it? Does being overweight make you unhealthy? I think it's clear that it's risky. I'm not unhealthy right now because of my weight. I have plenty of perfectly healthy overweight friends. But it does increase chances of developing certain diseases. It can also make things like childbearing a little riskier than it would be otherwise. And if you have an existing health issue unrelated to weight, being overweight can make your symptoms worse. To me, that's a sort of grey area; It's not unhealthy, but it's something to consider.

And on that, everyone is going to be different. Some people won't mind increased risks. (You remember the study that just caused a widespread sadness? The one that said bacon is a sort of carcinogen or whatever? Yeah. I don't doubt it, but I don't care, either. To be fully honest, I care about my life and I hope to live long but I also hope to live fully and bacon is terrific. That's a risk or a trade off that I'm fine taking, as are many other people.) Other people will look at the risks caused by obesity and try and maintain a "healthy" weight. Either choice is cool.

When I got serious about losing weight and I started to actually follow through, I laid out some rules for myself. I'd never use food as a punishment. I wouldn't ever entirely swear off a delicious type of food just because of the calorie count. If I want to, I will eat a sweet snack or dessert. I won't put food or food choices above experiences or people. I will enjoy eating and I will enjoy food.

When I think back to some of my favorite moments over the last few years, many of them involve food. Sunday nights watching Once Upon a Time over a delicious home cooked meal. Pizza and wings for football games. Going to Barnes and Noble with Liz after pigging out on mall food. I value those things more than I value being a size 10. It's hard for me to respect people who insist that other people make diet changes that don't fall into their value system.

My own rules are to not over indulge (if I'm full, I won't keep eating just because I love the taste), to not drink soda for every meal, to try very hard not to eat when I'm bored, to be physically active, and to eat a variety of foods. Ultimately my hope was that these rules would lead to a well rounded and healthy life, and I feel like I'm absolutely getting there.

For a little while, I'd feel bad for wanting to lose weight, or at least for talking about it publicly. I almost felt as though I was insulting people who are perfectly content being overweight. (I think this is part of why I have trouble talking about weight.) Then one day it hit me that, you know, not everything is about me. Just because I want something doesn't mean other people want the same thing, and more importantly (because I think it's what was driving the guilt), it doesn't mean anyone is wrong for not wanting to lose weight.

That said, it's a sensitive topic to talk about. There are a million reasons to want to lose weight. There are a million reasons to not worry about losing weight.

My own experience is the former. Now, if I had to change one thing about myself, or magically bestow one quality, it would have nothing to do with weight. Being thin is not my number one goal in life. But I like how I look much better when I'm not as overweight as I am now. My face is totally different than it used to be, and I'm not wildly fond of it. I also don't like certain physical aspects (like, I can feel my double chin and it just feels in the way. no thanks!). And those health risks? I don't want to take them. I figure I've spent more time in doctors offices and being poked by needles than I could ever have wanted, and I'd like to NOT have as many health issues when I'm older. Maybe I'll still have some of the medical problems I have now, maybe I won't. But I don't want to risk adding to that list. I've also started to value my body more, and I want to take care of it - that doesn't mean maintaining a certain weight, but it did mean I had to stop eating fast food every single day, which has helped take a few of the pounds off.

This has turned into an epic rambling. I don't even remember my original point. But I do know that we should probably get rid of shame when we talk about weight.
__
Charlotte 

What NOT to Say to Someone Who is Depressed

So I usually share these blog posts on Facebook (duh) and most of the views this blog gets are from people coming via Facebook.  After I wrote the post about depression, a few people who I don't really talk to much sent me messages saying that they're glad someone finally gets it.  Because really, most people don't understand what it's like.  That's not a bad thing - the fewer people who go through it the better.  But it does help to get a sense of what someone feels when they're depressed that way you know how to support them.  

There are a lot of things that are commonly said to depressed people that don't do much good.  The people obviously mean well, but since it's hard to relate, sometimes the advice does more harm than good.  Or it just does nothing.  If you're reading this and you see something you've said listed, chill.  I'm not mad at you and chances are no one else is, either.  We've all said some of the things on this list, myself included.  And I'm fully aware that the things on this list are almost always said out of caring/love/etc.  But (at least for me), the depressed mind isn't always the most rational mind, and it's good to see why these may not be the best things to say. 

1. Toughen up.  

Fairly certain that this is always said by people who like the tough-love stuff.  Which is fine.  And you can say this to me if I'm in the middle of a little crisis, and I'll know you're right.  But if you say this to me while I'm at my worst, I usually just get pissed off.  Because honestly, if someone has chronic depression, the fact that they're alive means they're tough.  If they get up, they're tough.  If you haven't experienced that paralyzing feeling, you can't understand just how difficult it is for a chronically depressed person to do anything.  As far as I'm concerned, if you're depressed and you're making a conscious decision to not hurt yourself, you're the toughest motherfucker around.  You go, Glenn Coco. 

Unfortunately, if you're depressed (and especially if you already have self esteem issues), "toughen up" translates into, "You're weak."  Is that rational?  Probably not.  But I know for me, if I'm really struggling and someone tells me to toughen up, they're telling me that I'm weak.  And if I think I'm being weak I just get angrier at myself and if I'm angry at myself I'm less inclined to do anything to help myself.  

2. At least you're not dying/It could be worse, you could have a real sickness, like cancer. 

Yes, people actually say stuff like this.  My immediate (internal) reaction is typically "fuck you."  

There's a lot wrong with this bit of advice.  First of all, depression IS real.  Just because it isn't physical doesn't mean it isn't real.  An absurd amount of people suffer and die from depression everyday.  

Second, it's like doing a little guilt-thing.  So now on top of being depressed and pissed at you for this bit of advice, I now feel bad for complaining about it because there's a kid dying from cancer somewhere.  I'm not sure, but I think when people say this, they're trying to tap into the "the glass is half full" spirit.  I think.  Not sure.  Because yes, it could be worse.  There's pretty much no condition, mental or physical, that a living human being can have that can't be worse.  Every situation for every single person can always be worse.  How does pointing that out help?  Knowing that a ton of other people are suffering in some way or another - and knowing that there's always the possibility of this being worse - does not make me suddenly happy. 

3. Get over it.

Okay so this one isn't always said out of love.  Sometimes this is just mean spirited OR it's just coming from someone who needs a little help in the field of empathy.  If I could just get over this, I would.  In a heart beat.  That's what I pray for.  But that's not realistic.  If depression was something you could just get over, people wouldn't be killing themselves because of it.  If it's an ordinary day and I wasn't depressed but I was just in some sort of funk, I could probably snap out of that.  If I'm angry because someone talked behind my back, you can (after letting me vent for a few minutes) tell me to get over it and you'd be absolutely right.  But depression is an underlying thing.  It's always there, regardless of your temporary mood.    

Also, what is it that you want me to get over?  I don't even know what makes me depressed, and I imagine that's the case for a solid chunk of depressed people.  Sure, I know some of the contributing factors.  But I don't know which one (if there is just one) that is the absolute worst cause of this.  (Also, there are chemicals involved, but again, people can't SEE the problem, so it's not real.)  And again, now I'm mad at myself for not being able to get over whatever it is that I should get over, if there is indeed something to get over. 

4. Stop being lazy.

Arggggggg.  No.  Am I lazy sometimes?  Hell yeah.  Probably more than the next person.  Lord knows how many times I went and bought new underwear to avoid doing laundry in college.  

However, depression isn't the same as being lazy.  This is especially hard for me because I know I can be lazy and I know the vast majority of my family members are lazy, so I tend to get paranoid and think that I'm not even depressed, I'm just lazy.  I have to remind myself, or one of my friends remind me, of the things that make it pretty clear that I'm not actually just a lazy person.  

If you tell someone who is depressed that they're probably just being lazy, you're probably doing more harm than good because in that moment, the person is just going to become mad at you and then start doubting themselves because what if that person is right?  What if I am just lazy?  And if a person starts thinking like that, not only do they get pissed at themselves and feel more pathetic than before, but now their sickness is disqualified, which can mean a lack of treatment.  Not good. 

5. Just do it. 

Okay, Nike.  This is generally said by that person who sincerely wants to help.  They may have read that exercise is really good for depressed people or that being outside is good for depressed people or that meeting someone new is good for depressed people - they're not wrong.  Those things are true.  

The problem is that we cannot "just do" anything.  There is no way to explain this and it is (understandably) the hardest part for any non-depressed person to swallow.  It has to be super frustrating to try to help your depressed friend and only ever get "no" as an answer.  The only thing you can do, really, in this situation is to try your hardest to understand that your friend is essentially paralyzed.  When it's that bad, there's very little that can get a person out.  Obligations, money, job opportunities, chance to meet a famous person, church - none of it matters.  For me, this isn't an all the time thing.  This is when I'm at my worst, but occasionally a little (teeny tiny) spurt of energy hits and I can do something.  There's no telling when, though, and there's no guarantee that it'll last.  And it's completely beyond control.  So telling someone to "just do it" often adds to frustration.  I already know I'm not doing anything.  I'm already bothered by the fact that I'm not doing anything.  I don't need a reminder that it's clear to everyone else, too. 

6. Are you okay?

So this isn't really wrong to ask, but it's hard to answer.  When I'm asked if I'm okay, I'm likely going to say yes because, hey, at least I'm breathing and walking and stuff.  Depression is broad and complex and honestly if I were to attempt to fully answer that question, we might be talking for hours.  

"Well, I'm not dead so that's good, and I'm glad I'm alive, so that's good so I'm okay as far as that goes.  But I don't really see any chance of anything better so maybe then I'm not okay.  But then again I got dressed today so maybe I am.  But I'm on the verge of a meltdown because I'm two minutes away from not paying any of my bills, so that part's not okay.  But I read a little today, so I'm functioning, so that's okay.  And I'm only in a little bit of physical pain, so that's okay, I guess."  It's hard and exhausting and confusing. 

7. I know how you feel. 

Unless you've been chronically depressed, you don't know how I feel.  That's okay, I don't want you to know and I don't expect you to know.  I kind of just want and expect you to be there when I need you to be.  I'm sure a broken heart after a bad break up really, really, really sucks.  I mean, a broken heart for any reason really sucks.  But please don't try to comfort me by telling me that you know how I feel because you broke up with your boy/girlfriend.  If you've been depressed, you probably know, at least to an extent, how I'm feeling.  But if you haven't you don't.  Again, that's fine.  Good, even.  But often, when someone says they know how I feel because they've had some sort of struggle, I feel some type of negative emotion.  Don't try to equate your feelings to mine.  We're all different and this is mental and emotional stuff so no two people feel the same way, especially when one of those people is depressed.  

(This doesn't mean don't tell us about your struggles.  I mean choose wisely, obviously, the time to tell us, but you don't have to keep your problems from us.  We still have the responsibilities that come with friendship.  Just don't say we're the same.) 

But then what should you say?

1. Instead of saying, "toughen up," try acknowledging how much strength the person has already displayed just by making it through the day.  If you're doing this to me, I'm going to roll my eyes and talk down to myself and respond to you with, "it doesn't take strength to get up and get dressed in the morning.  Everyone should do that."  But when I'm being rational I know better, I know that it's difficult to do anything.  And I feel better after someone tells me I'm strong than I do when someone tells me I need to toughen up. 

2. Instead of saying, "you're not dying/at least it's not cancer," acknowledge that depression is real.  Furthermore, acknowledge that a lot of depressed people struggle with the idea of being alive because it's so difficult.  They do feel like they're dying, very slowly.  

3. Instead of suggesting that the person "get over it," see if they're in the mood to really talk about what it is that's causing pain in the first place.  They might not know.  They might never know.  But I've had friends who have sat and tried to analyze things that are making me feel crappy (that sounds annoying, but the analyzing was done in a non-annoying way, swear it).  And that is better than telling me to get over it.  Trying to figure out some of the reasons for the way I feel is better than thinking "I should just get over it" because that's never going to happen.  Also, it validates the way a depressed person is feeling when their friends can hear what some of the struggles are. 

4. Instead of saying, "stop being lazy," understand that depression is paralyzing.  Tell your friend that even though you haven't been through it, you understand that being depressed is taking away their motivation and will power and desire to do anything.  Don't put your life on hold, of course, but take a day to just sit with your friend and do nothing.  And offer to listen to them, if they're willing to talk. 

5. Instead of saying, "just do it," make a specific suggestion.  You read that getting into an old hobby if good for a depressed person?  Don't tell that person to "just go do something."  Tell them that you think you know something that can cheer them up (not something that can "heal" them - save that for meds and professionals).  Make a plan to come over with some paint and canvasses.  Tell them exactly what to look forward to.  And, barring a true emergency, never ever never ever never ever ever ever cancel those plans.  Chances are, if that person agreed to the plan, s/he has mustered every single ounce of energy on making sure everything is ready.  Getting clothes on, making the bed, vacuuming the living room.  If you cancel, not only was that energy wasted, but the person is probably going to internalize that as "I'm not really that important to my friend" or something along those lines.  Not ideal for someone who is depressed. 

6. Instead of asking if someone is okay, be specific.  Ask how the doctor went.  Ask what's going through their mind at that moment.  Ask if they watched that documentary last night.  If you actually do want the whole conversation about whether or not that person is okay, great, but make time for that.  And be really willing to listen.  

7. Unless you've been depressed, instead of saying "I know how you feel," consider saying (and meaning) "I don't know how you feel, but I can hang out with you if you want.  Offer to help in whatever way the person needs you to.  And really, you need to accept the fact that you definitely don't understand what depression is like.  But, you can empathize and more importantly, you can believe what the person tells you about how they're feeling.  That's hard to do when someone is telling you they "can't get out of bed."  But you need to try.  

I've been on both ends of the "friendship with someone who is depressed" thing, and it sucks.  Being a good friend to a depressed person is fucking work.  But you should also know that depressed people stop talking to a lot of friends, and if they're still making an effort to talk to you, you're very important to them.  And they'll be there in an instant if you ever need it.  And they'll probably be good in the empathy department.  

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Charlotte

Depression - "Is it really that bad?"

*I'm assuming depression varies from person to person, so don't take what I write to be the conclusive definition of depression.

I got a message from one of my friends the other day.  She had read the post about losing weight and wanted to know if depression was "really that bad."  (In that post I mentioned that there were times that getting up and dressed for the day was miraculous.)  She didn't mean it in a bad way, she just wanted to understand more about depression.  So here goes.  

(I know some of my close friends read this.  Just so you know, some of the descriptions in this post are really, really bad.  I wanted to convey what depression is like at its worst.  I am not at this point right now, so don't freak out and show up at my house or something.  Well, you're welcome to come over, but not for that reason.  Unless you come bringing pie, in which case my door is always open, whatever your reason for coming may be.)

1. It's paralyzing. 

For me, this is the absolute worst part of being depressed.  As in, I could be laying in bed thinking, "okay, gonna get up now."  And an hour would pass without me actually getting up.  And then two hours.  

On a better day, I could write a to-do list (just writing the list is productive).  But, I wouldn't get any of it done, regardless of how important some of the tasks were.  If you're depressed, it doesn't matter how important something is or how good it could be for you - it doesn't get done.  

Basic functions are a daily challenge.  (Most of the time, a challenge that isn't beat.)

2. No motivation. 

So the paralyzing problem was mostly referring to things that I wanted to do or knew I needed to do or felt inclined to do.  But another problem with being depressed is that sometimes there is no motivation at all.  During school, there were a few times an internship would pop up that I thought would be cool.  Hard to describe/differentiate from the paralyzing thing, but basically I'd like the idea of being a person with that cool internship, but I didn't actually want it and wasn't motivated to apply for it. And the lack of motivation meant lack of goals and lack of doing anything, so it became a vicious cycle; if you don't have goals and you don't have any accomplishments to speak of, you become even less inclined to do anything.  And in turn you have an even worse opinion of yourself. 

3. It physically sucks. 

For starters, it seems to lead to (or at least worsen) chronic health conditions.  And joint pains.  And headaches.  Ugh.  

But depression also means staying in shape is unlikely.  Because of the things mentioned above, exercise stops.  I went from active and in relatively good shape to sedentary and incredibly out of shape in about two months.  That's all it took.  

Physical activity is supposed to be good for people who are depressed.  But since doing anything is hard for people who are depressed, physical activity doesn't usually happen.  And so the cycle goes. 

4. A constant need for instant gratification. 

Constantly being in a bad mood means anything that promises "happiness" sounds like a good idea.  

"I'm going to buy a bunch of new clothes.  If I dress nice I'll be happy." Down $100.

"Having a jam-packed bookshelf will make me happy."  Down $50. 

"Learning a new instrument will make me happy.  Keyboard it is!"  Down $150. 

Etc.  

And on top of the money issues, it meant spending time doing stupid things instead of doing things that produce actual happiness.  ...like skipping school for three days to read The Hunger Games trilogy.  Did I enjoy myself?  Yes.  Did I end up barely graduating with a 2.4 gpa?  Yes.

5. Food. 

So for me the food problem always happened in one of three ways: 

Not eating because of the paralyzing thing, which means being hungry to the point of dizziness and pain.  

Not eating because of a lack of appetite.  This wasn't accompanied by pain because I didn't actually feel hungry, but not eating for a day or even days at a time isn't healthy. 

Eating everything.  All the time.  Especially fast food because it involved no work (See #1 and #2).

6. Everything is bad. 

When I'm at my worst, I interpret everything as bad.  My lack of doing anything, even though I'm well aware of the fact that I'm depressed, turns into "I'm lazy."  If the littlest thing goes wrong, that means that nothing else is even worth doing.  If someone doesn't talk to me or respond to me it means they hate me.  Get it?  Also, it becomes easy to doubt everyone and everything.    

There are a lot of other things I can say about depression, but those are the big things I can think of.  And it really sucks.  People assume that depression is something you can just "get over." It's not.  And it's exhausting.  And if you know someone who is depressed, you should try to be understanding. 

I was planning on including a little "things not to say to depressed people," but I think I'll do that tomorrow instead.  11pm is late.  

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Charlotte