In so many ways, living through a pandemic has felt like a bout with depression.
Endless months of living in circumstances none of us would choose–constantly adapting to new ways of functioning, limited connection with others, no guarantees about how long life will be like this–it’s understandable that so many of us have felt a strain on our mental health.
The last year has reminded me of some of the most painful times of my life, seasons when chronic exhaustion morphed into depression so deep I thought I’d never feel like myself again.
There have been hints of the same feelings over the past year of this pandemic, even though this time around depression wasn’t the culprit:
Ongoing fatigue that caused even simple tasks to feel difficult.
Isolation and loneliness that made me wonder if I was the only one struggling.
Irrational but real fear that nothing would ever change and life would always feel like this.
Worry about others moving on without me, afraid my presence wasn’t missed or wanted.
Frustration from feeling helpless, stuck and unable to change the circumstances that were killing my soul.
Pain from grieving loss after loss in a year that had already taken away so much.
As hard as the past year has been at times, I know depression isn’t the culprit this time around–but it sure has felt like it some days. Every week that passed wore me down a bit more as the demands on my energy exceeded my capacity to meet them.
Here’s the gift, though, of having survived past experiences of debilitating emotional pain:
I know this hard season is not the end of my story.
Hear me clearly: a pandemic and mental health crisis are not the same thing. But my emotional experience during the past year has reminded me in subtle ways of how depression felt, like faint whiffs of an aroma that triggers memories of another time and place.
I’ve wondered if anyone else can relate.
If you’re feeling weary or discouraged, exhausted or disheartened, burnt out or depressed, you’re not the only one.
This year has been harder than most of us can articulate, but it’s not because we’re doing anything wrong. It’s just hard. When we do hard things for a long time without a break, we get tired.
We need relief. We need comfort. We need support.
We are designed to need help when we’re struggling.
Those who have never experienced the anguish of depression may not understand the excruciating pain of feeling utterly powerless to change your own emotional experience. However, this year is certainly allowing most of us to identify with the ache of feeling stuck.
No one likes feeling stuck.
In the same way, no one chooses to be depressed. It’s one of the ways our body responds to the pain and stress around us if there’s no relief over time.
In the midst of my own battle, it was easy to spiral into shame from believing my struggle was the result of a character flaw or a failure of faith or a lack of positive thinking.
But it’s not.
Depression happens in the body, not in the imagination. It is just as real as diabetes or cancer or COVID–and it can be just as debilitating. It changes the way our brain functions, affecting everything from mood to motivation, sleep to decision-making, weight to energy levels.*
Depression is not just in your head.
I’ve described my experiences with depression as an intensely paralyzing exhaustion. It’s like I spent all my energy trying to fight against the stressors in my life for too long, until I ran out of reserves.
There were moments when my pain got so big and overwhelming, I was desperate to find relief in any form possible. By the grace of God, I held on. (And when I say the grace of God, I mean it. He showed up in often imperceivable ways to sustain me, from moment to moment at times.)
A friend would stop by with sushi or flowers or coffee, just because.
Someone would offer to watch my kids so I could have a break.
A blog post would show up in my inbox and remind me I wasn’t the only one struggling.
Walking in the sunshine would boost my endorphins for a few glorious minutes.
I’d listen to a song and remember how to feel joy for a moment.
A poem from the Bible would remind me I wasn’t abandoned, even when I felt alone.
And eventually, taking medication gave me the bandwidth to focus on getting healthy.
I share these examples not as a prescription for those who are struggling, but as reminders of the tiny graces present in even the most overwhelming darkness.
For those who find yourselves walking through the darkness of depression today, I see you. You are not doing anything wrong. You will feel like yourself again, no matter how hard it feels along the way.
And for those who aren’t necessarily depressed but simply find yourself weary from the fight to get through this pandemic, I see you too. You are not doing anything wrong. You will make it to the other side of this, even when it seems like the end will never come.
Wherever you find yourself today, take heart: this is not the end of your story.
You will survive this. Relief will come.
But it may not always feel like it. So in the meantime, be gentle with yourself. Take care of your body, your heart, your soul in every way possible. Allow others to care for you, too.
Keep holding on, just a little bit longer. And when you can’t, allow yourself to be held. (That might be the greatest gift of all.)
May you have eyes to notice the small glimpses of hope scattered all around today. Tomorrow you’ll be one step closer to the other side.
Wherever you find yourself in this season, what is one gentle thing you can do to care for yourself today?
*To be clear, I am not a mental health professional or a licensed counselor. These descriptions are how I’ve made sense of what I’ve learned over the years about how our brains process emotion. I am in no way intending to provide a comprehensive scientific overview of what causes depression.