I recently developed a new mantra. It goes like this: It is not my job to make people comfortable. I don’t mean that I’ll go out of my way to make friends and acquaintances ill at ease. That’s not really who I am. What I mean is that I am trying very hard to be honest about myself and my life. If that makes people feel uncomfortable, then I need to let that roll off my back.
With that in mind, I need to tell you that this blog post is not a happy one. I’m purposely going for honesty. Maybe someone out there needs to hear this and know they’re not alone. Maybe there’s someone else who feels just like I do. Today’s topic — grief and depression. Unfortunately, this is a topic I know well.
A few years back, I was diagnosed with depression. This was before my daughter Ally’s illness, before I had experienced real loss. We were dealing with some behavioral issues with my son, which looking back, were insignificant compared to what we’d later face. But still, I was struggling. My therapist thought I had situational depression, and he suggested I talk to my doctor about this. My doctor then put me on a low dose of Lexapro. For several years, I stayed on this medication, and it worked. It helped keep me level and able to cope with life.
A few years later, life got really difficult. My sweet, twelve year old daughter was diagnosed with brain cancer. My family lived in limbo for the next 3.5 years, trying to stay afloat while also living in fear of what could/would happen next. Those years were filled with joy, fear, hope, tears, love and a deep sadness. I stayed on meds to keep going as grief was starting to creep in; I grieved a life of normalcy for my child, for my family, and for myself. I had constant worry, a constant sense of ‘What will happen if…?’
In April of 2020 the if happened. We discovered that treatments were no longer helping Ally. On May 3, Glioblastoma took my daughter’s life. And that’s where real depression kicked in. Intertwined with this depression was grief, which has been a constant companion since then. I’ve been trying to work through my grief, take the right steps to keep my depression at bay, and still be a functional human. I’m on meds, and I recently adjusted them as I can feel that the holidays will be hard this year. I see a therapist. I am doing life the best I can. Up until a couple of weeks ago, I really thought I was doing okay. But then depression swoops in, and I’m flat on my back again.
Now here’s the part I’m a little embarrassed to share. I like to think of myself as a strong person. I’ve had to be during my daughter’s illness and after her death. I feel compelled to be strong at work and when I’m out in the world. But the last few weeks when Rich and I sat in counseling together, working through our grief, I got called out by our counselor. She said I was “awfully tearful.” I was furious. Of course I am tearful. Counseling is hard. Grief is hard. Trying to piece your life back together after a devastating event is hard. I thought I had been doing so well. I get up in the morning and go to work. I am trying to be a kind teacher, a reliable co-worker, a loving friend. I exercise. I read. I stay busy with writing groups and yoga classes and happy hours with the girls. And yet, I’m still depressed. I had an epiphany: I live in a haze of blah that I can’t fully pull myself out of. And I’m so angry that I can’t outrun the grief and depression that hangs over me. If a friend were to tell me about his or her depression, I’d tell my friend to get a good therapist and to consider medication. Don’t give up. Be gentle with yourself. Practice self care. Why can’t I be gentle with myself? My therapist and my doctor both suggested I should give myself grace…which is hard.
In most of my blog posts, this is where I’d try to insert a positive reflection or maybe a bit of wisdom. But this time I can’t because I don’t have any meaningful insights. I don’t have a solution. I’m still in the depths of trying to understand my loss and correctly treat my depression. I will say this: If you are hurting, if you feel low, if you are anxious about the holidays, you are not alone. Do not be ashamed about asking for help. Do not feel badly about needing therapy and medication to feel better. And do not second-guess being honest about all of this. Life is hard, my friends. However, life is better when you love and grieve and share with and lean on your people. As for me, I’m not giving up. But dang, this journey of grief and depression is a long one. Here’s to lighter days for all of us.
”Grief is so human, and it hits everyone at one point or another, at least, in their lives. If you love, you will grieve, and that’s just given.” – Kay Redfield Jamison
Note: If you are struggling with depression during the holidays or any time, you can call the Depression Hotline at 1-888-771-5166. If you want to search for a therapist near you, go to the Psychology Today website at https://www.psychologytoday.com/us. Most importantly, if you feel suicidal, call the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 800-273-8255.