Stage 4. Depression.
When depression hits, you’ll know. Or perhaps, you won’t know. Depression is a tricky affliction and it seems to affect everyone differently. Even more confusing, it doesn’t affect the same person in the same way every single day. Therefore, it can feel nearly impossible to describe to someone on the outside how it feels. And the fact that it is so difficult to articulate makes it even more frustrating for those living with it and also for all the people who care about them.
We’ve all experienced depression at certain points in our lives, even if we don’t necessarily recognize it for what it is. Some depression is clinical, others is circumstantial. But both are very real. I don’t have any authority to speak on behalf of those who experience on-going clinical depression, because mine was only circumstantial. But my personal experience and struggles provided me a glimpse into what that life is like and it gave me a new level of appreciation for all those fighting the on-going battles with depression. The brain is an incredible complex thing and there is no one-size-fits-all fix for its ailments. This could be part of the reason why mental health treatments haven’t caught up to physical health treatments yet.
Some examples of symptoms of depression can include feeling exhausted for no apparent physical reason, loss of interest in activities once enjoyed, a general sense of malaise and hopelessness, a loss of drive or passion, feeling numb (emotionally and/or physically), feeling foggy in the head and unable to concentrate on even simple tasks, feeling a constant tension like one might burst into tears at any moment, a sense of worthlessness and guilt, or looking out and seeing a sea of dull gray instead of the typical colors of life.
Remember, these are only a small sampling of some of the things that may be experienced. Another point of frustration is that certain symptoms are contradictory: while one time someone may always be on the verge of sobbing, another time someone may feel absolutely nothing at all inside. During my time with miscarriages, I experienced both sides of that spectrum.
Perhaps for me, the worst was the extreme exhaustion and numbness I experienced at times. Those who know me well, know that I feel a lot of things, and I feel them quite strongly. This lends nicely toward my empathic but extroverted nature which typically makes me an energetic, happy person. Or what some people refer to as a “shy-loud”.
But when I would fall into one of those depressive grief states, I’d feel a numbness overtake me, which was absolutely terrifying. I couldn’t think or feel anything, and moreover, I didn’t care to want to. I can’t begin to express how relieved I felt each time my emotions and feelings returned to their typical, healthy levels. What a relief that was. I know, I was one of the lucky ones here.
What may be interesting to note is almost no one even knew I was struggling in that fashion. That was possible because I was still able to push myself to function enough to go to work and do my job. I could even participate in social engagements and put on a “happy face” long enough to fake normalcy, at least for a while. Looking back, I recognize that it wasn’t necessarily my normal, but it was something. And something is always preferable to nothing.
For me, that something (no matter how little it was) was healthy because it assisted me in the effort to keep going. Because for me, the most dangerous thing would have been to stay in bed all day and slip into the deep abyss of nothingness. Because once we’re in that, it can become difficult to get out.
The following is a poem I wrote about how I would describe what I was feeling inside during the ups and downs of my time traversing through the circumstantial depression stage of the grief cycles of my miscarriages:
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The waves rolled over her as the sky grew in its inky gloom.
She knew she needed to stand soon or she would drown.
Stand up!
But she could feel herself sinking, sinking, sinking.
Spiraling further down into the cold, wet sand.
It seemed hopeless, for she hadn’t the energy to call for help.
Perhaps this is just how it all ends for me, she thought.
With a sigh, she rolled her head to one side and closed her eyes.
And then, she waited...
And waited…
And waited.
Then complete darkness… never came.
Suddenly she was aware that the rolling waves were gone.
Carefully, she curled the toes of her left foot and let out a deep sigh.
With relief, she realized she still had breath filling her lungs with life.
Cautiously, she opened her eyes and squinted into the pale light.
The world appeared much the same as she had left it.
Somehow, she knew she would need to play along like it was all ok.
Because the world wouldn’t understand what she now knew.
For certain, that darkness could return again to threaten her at any moment.
But next time, she would be ready for it.
She stood up.
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For all of you out there who struggle with depression on an on-going basis, I’m so sorry and I’m sending hugs. My brush with it for a time was only a small taste of what those dealing with it on a long-term basis are going through.
As far as the depression that comes alongside its grief phase? Don’t fight it – feel it. Really, really feel it. As Elizabeth Kubler Ross said, “Allow the sadness and emptiness to cleanse you and help you explore your loss in its entirety. When you allow yourself to experience depression, it will leave as soon as it has served its purpose in your loss.” When you are ready, the depression will lift and you’ll be left feeling stronger and more filled with purpose. Maybe (and probably) not immediately, but eventually. Just because you feel sad today, doesn’t mean you will feel sad forever. Sometimes it’s when things are at their darkest, it is then that we are literally moments from a flip of the switch for our light to come back on.
Questions, comments, or just need to chat? Send me a direct message via LinkedIn, Facebook, or Instagram.
Cheers until next time,
Crystal
