Depression showed up at my door again yesterday, in its sneaky, unabashed way. I was feeling kind of good, doing some music boosters stuff, then BAM, a little voice inside my head told me I wasn't good enough and it was time to let that dragging, invasive presence take over. It wasn't a big change, just enough to get my attention and ruin my mood, enough to stop me from the energetic, positive feelings I'd been having, and to begin to have doubting, negative thoughts about everything around me. I was suddenly a pin cushion for rejection and loneliness and fear, my every thought a land mine waiting to explode into despair.
I knew it wasn't the usual self bashing I do to myself sometimes when I feel low. This was different - the real thing. It even felt physical, chemical somehow. I acknowledged the feeling, then minutes later was asking myself, "how can I be depressed when I recognize the feeling?" Easy, I told myself somewhat rationally; I have been feeling it off and on for about 30 years or more.
Lucky for me, I had an appointment with my therapist the next day (today). When I told her what had "happened," since that's what it felt like - an "event," she put down her clipboard and pen and faced me as I spoke. I knew she was taking me seriously, which helped. Then after she listened, she performed what seemed like triage at the time. She said something like, "when you think those thoughts, like you're no good, or no one needs you, it's depression talking through you. That's when you have to realize that and do something to get rid of that feeling." She started to remind me of the old story of the devil on one shoulder, angel on the other. "It's like the devil is depression, trying to bring you down." She's right of course.
When I drove home, feeling somewhat better, but wary of the ordeal I would still be facing, I thought about that image. If the devil does exist, then Depression is his agent, his hell on earth, at least to me. It doesn't feel natural to have this presence, this sensation that seems to attack me with defeatist thoughts. When I recognize its presence, I will have to fight it, find a way to drive it back to its master, away from my sanity and positive energy.
There are all kinds of therapy methods and I've seen a lot of therapists in my life, but I think the sign of a good one is when she stops her method for a moment to help you through these moments of panic and fear, so you can go out of that office and try to live a half-way decent sort of life, until the situation levels itself.
She asked me if I believe God is involved in the depression. I thought for a moment and answered by repeating the expression that God only gives us as much as we can handle. I said I thought God was there in the fight, and in the victory over the depression. God doesn't cause the depression, nor does God relieve the symptoms using powers only God could possess. God loves me, just as God loves all of God's creations, and God knows what I am capable of handling. I believe it's up to me to address this situation, knowing my faith will help me through and others who care for me will be there for me too.
So now I'm home, being vigilant for the signs, hoping maybe this time the fight will bring new strength for me, perhaps even the ability to look at my life differently. I want to focus on what's the most important to me - my family, my health, my hopes for the future. And try to keep that devil off my shoulder or at least find ways to flick it off sometimes while I try and beat this depression thing.
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