Note: I am using the word depression here as a definition of a low spot in someone’s life. A rock bottom. It is not intended as a perspective of clinical depression, which should always be treated by a qualified professional, whether by God or a doctor.

Hey you,

There is nothing that can prepare you for going from being the strongest person you know, to the weakest. There is nothing like finding yourself lost in a wilderness but, plot twist! You are the wilderness.

It was a shock to find myself back inside a depression; wasn’t this left behind in my late teens? Hadn’t I overcome? Why again? But I knew why. Depression is not as often a cause, as an effect, and it was clear enough a “because” had worn down hard on me. My nerves have been frayed, which I only identified after I started to work toward a recovery. Most of us don’t identify these things for what they are at the moment, though we might recognize them afterward.

In the middle of it, we’re probably just trying pretty hard to be OK and not be Mrs. Bennett from Pride and Prejudice, always fancying herself ill used.

“Oh Mr. Bennett you have no compassion on my poor nerves!”

“You mistake me my dear, I have a high regard for your nerves. They’ve been my old friends these twenty years at least.”

ISOLATION

I understand how people get so isolated. Mostly we think people need to just talk about what’s going on, but it’s not that easy. Articulating about what is going on when we can barely see anything ourselves often ends up just being a jumble of mixed feelings and griefs and pains, after which time we probably feel even worse because now we might feel misunderstood as well, and even more alone. Trying to explain something while in the middle of self-preservation is like trying to stop in the middle of fight to explain what is going on and why you’re doing what you’re doing. It’s a good way to get knocked out.

I don’t tell people not to handle things on their own anymore. I say, you can’t. If you feel isolated and alone, you need God and you need humans. Don’t let pride or false religion stand in the way. It will be painful to open those doors but it’s necessary, believe me.

When I finally gave up and found a friend’s shoulder to ugly-cry on, words weren’t adequate. I had felt my grip on sanity slipping and something had to give; the floodgates opening on desperation are often uncontrollable for a bit.

Losing it with my friend was the turning point for me, the equivalent of asking someone to fight for me, and with me. To stay. Not for a cause, not for some grand spiritual reason, not to prove anything, but because it was the end of the rope for me. It was either the choice to run and pretend to be ok somewhere else, or stay and be honest.

Coming to the end of one’s ability to be self-sufficient is disorienting to say the least. One of the ways I have always processed is through writing, and in the past it never failed to help me understand. Now, it often felt (and still feels) like I have the logic of a beached beetle and the emotions of a baby. I’m re-learning everything, not through just the perspective that allowed me a safe distance from emotional pain, but one who has learned to sit in it.

From one who has learned that not every question has answers. Not every problem is fixed by telling your story, and finding voice. We still need to ask questions and talk and write, but there are some things so deep that for awhile, we might need to be “babies” again with volatile emotions, limited understanding, and… clamoring for food. <insert grin>

We are adults, but in matters of healing it’s as well to become a little like a small child again. For a time, we may need help walking, or getting back up, but the aim is 100% not to make excuses, but live in the grace of the time.

One of the most helpless things for me is watching someone else go through a hard time without knowing what to do. There are all kinds of articles and tips out there on this, but my answer is not to find the perfect words, or the perfect thing to do for them. The best thing you can do for anyone in a rough spot is simply to know them, and this is something we can do for anyone. It’s part of an everyday and healthy community, and it shines within difficulty.

KNOW THEM

This begins with a umbrella of making it a life practice to see people, to remember them. It doesn’t mean you have to be best friends, just to remember that this friend loves cookies and would be touched if you dropped off a few, someone else feels comfort through physical touch, like hugs, and this other person is a fan of hand-carved knives, and another person cracks up at political memes. Some need comic relief, others need tissues. Some call it love languages, and that’s a good way to look at it, but I prefer to think of it as making sure you actually see and listen to the people around you. Everyone has an identity, everyone has likes and dislikes. You’re not trying to know everything about them and there’s no need to make it complicated, just tuck little bits of info back when you hear them.

It’s not a matter of study or analysis either. I love to dissect personality and character, but the downside is if people feel watched they become self-conscious. This is not trying to “figure” people out, but practicing the art of remembrance.

The art of remembrance is the idea that you don’t need to know everything about everyone to love them. I don’t have to know the details of another person’s story to watch for ways to make them feel valued and important. It’s a way to connect to your community without having to exhaust yourself being best friends with everyone. It’s my opinion that if communities are connected well, people aren’t as likely to fall through the cracks because we’re already practicing the art of remembering one another. Checking in with your friends. Seeing something on their Instagram story about a tough day and randomly dropping off ice cream, or sending them a text.

I have one friend who is especially good at the art of remembrance. She’ll just randomly text in the middle of her extremely busy life, and it always makes a difference in my day.

Tapping into the power of the everyday is the natural followup to the art of remembrance. Without thinking long there are instances of people who made me feel less alone in a particularly black time, even when they had little or no idea of the turmoil. Things like, bringing food to cook at my house, bringing me coffee, texting randomly, sending hilarious and inappropriate memes, inviting me to see a movie or talk a walk, sending mail, and in general showing up with small flashes of normalcy. It is the everyday which is the hardest in difficult times, and it is the everyday that helps us to heal.

Bring people small bits of normal. Not everything has to be big or profound.

Show them they are needed. People in a storm, particularly strong people, have no idea that their strength is probably greater than it has ever been; it is in the testing of ourselves where we learn our weakness, and consequently, why we need to keep active in some small ways. A person in turmoil sometimes just need to go work out, go for a walk, or wash dishes. It’s hard to make the choice in the middle of it, but we need those ties to being relevant, useful, and needed. Activity in some measure can be a savior.

There’s no formula for when or how much, it’s a matter of intuition and knowing someone. It’s not for every time either, or all parts of the process. For example, a funeral is not the time to make people feel needed by giving them responsibility (though I have heard of small babies being a lifeline in this time).

For my own experience, I’m on my church’s worship team and most Sunday mornings through the dark time I felt completely unable to worship like I wanted to; rejection and weakness was heavy upon me. I wondered if I should even be up there, or if people would be better off without me. It’s a lie, people are not better off without you, even in those darker times. You may need to withdraw for a time sometimes, again there’s no formula on this, but at some point we come to the realization that sometimes the most beautiful ways we help other people is because of our honest brokenness, not despite it.

In cases of recovery from things like PTSD I’ve heard more than one example of giving war veterans, or even suicidal people, an animal to take care of - something that depended on them - to help them get through it. Once again, this is not a formula to apply without thought, but it is a consideration.

We never lose our relevancy to other people, even in brokenness or grief, depression or struggle.

Margin. I love this word so much. It’s space. It’s giving yourself space and other people space. It’s not taking responsibility or ownership over someone else, or removing consequences of actions, but giving them room to stumble around. It’s really about the process of boundaries, because without boundaries, we’re all just floundering all over each other and making mistakes that impact other people for good or bad.

It’s why this subject is so tricky to talk about. I’ve had friends who have been sexually molested, and I know for them to heal is movement of one step forward, two steps back for awhile. Margin is allowing them the messiness of recovery. Margin is also giving their abuser justice, so that they too, may be allowed the messiness of recovery. The steps will look completely different depending on where you are coming from, but in the end, margin is leaving space in everyone’s story for redemption.

Maybe everything is still too new and fresh to talk about redemption, after all, you don’t tell someone who has just had the courage to tell about what was done to them against their will, that their story can become the most beautiful thing about them. It’s ridiculous. But nevertheless, we know that stories take surprising bends, and inside healing of damaged places come some of the most beautiful fragrances of people’s lives.

We do not have to be stuck in our stories. Even as I have faced down some aspects of depression, inside of which I couldn’t have changed anything if I tried, I’ve also had the experience of seeing ashy parts of my life turn into a beautiful garden.

It’s surrender to the process. I know I’m going to continue having relapses for a little while longer, but in between I can build strength by finding joy in the small things again: in connecting with friends, in worshiping my God on Sunday mornings, and in recognizing that if I continue to bring him the broken pieces of my life, he’ll somehow put me back together again. This is not only a hope, it is a certainty, because he’s done it before and he will do it again.

He does it for anyone who asks.

In conclusion, if you or a friend are going through a tough time; we all feel helpless in the face of what we can’t fix. It’s not necessary to fix people, and in fact, we can’t. We don’t have to become professional counselors or therapists to help other people through a tough time. Instead, we help others gather their pieces into a jar of hope and redemption and give them to God. We help each other walk to people who are trained, and skilled, in the arts and knowledge of healing human hearts.

Then go drink some beer together, or order the fries, you fat lards,** and do life together.

Seeing, and seen,

L. Raine

**My favorite term of endearment right now. It’s not an indication of any numbers on the scale. :D