This little stuffed rabbit sits on a shelf in my closet where I see it every day. I named it Caramel, both for its color and for the fact it came in an Easter basket filled with a variety of caramel candies. It was given to me by one friend, but it serves as a daily reminder of a small group of people who have supported me in various ways during a really long, really gnarly season of depression.
I keep typing and deleting, trying to figure out what's worth sharing, whether for the sake of my own documentation or to encourage someone else in the trenches of their own depression. So this may be a bit rambling. Just like life.
Today I realized it's been exactly one year since I told someone I was looking into the possibility of starting an antidepressant. A whole year. I can't believe it's been that long.
I'd had three previous seasons of major depression as an adult. A friend who's seen my minor ups and downs over the years has asked me a handful of times if I need an antidepressant. I've thanked her for her concern each time, as sometimes we're blind to our own need for help, but assured her I knew what depression was like because of my past experiences and that what she was seeing was just an ordinary rough patch.
I got depressed again a while ago. Obviously depressed. Really depressed. One day I realized all those times my friend had asked me about meds, as well as many other times, were, in fact, depression. They were mild, which is why I hadn't recognized them for what they were, but that meant I'd been battling depression for most of my adulthood. Feeling completely weary and totally hopeless, concerned about how the low points had been coming more frequently and lasting longer each time, I decided to get help.
I was open to taking meds, but ended up going to counseling instead. I'm so thankful for that time. Several counseling sessions with my therapist later, armed with new insights and a variety of coping skills to use, I was feeling much better. There was still work to do, but I was starting to live and function in a way that was more sustainable.
I liken the choice to ease up on the pursuit of meds in favor of counseling to choosing not to take blood pressure medicine until you see what happens when you make dietary changes. I desperately wanted my head and heart to be in a good place, but I also didn't want to medicate something that I could, and should, fix by changing my behavior. It was the right decision and I still go through the flashcards I made of things I learned in counseling several times a week, as I want to continue being proactive in taking care of my mental health.
Then, in the aftermath of a meltdown a few months ago, I made a decision that was simultaneously spontaneous and a long time coming. I started an antidepressant. It was the right decision and I'm thankful for emotional stability as I continue working on my own junk. Depression is completely exhausting and this season of chemically-induced respite has been such a gift.
The plan is to wean off at a predetermined point in time and see what happens. If I'm one who just needed some help to get over the last hump of a season of depression, which is the approach I'm taking, then I'll be done and move on with new habits that I've developed (or, more accurately, am developing). But if it becomes clear that I'm one who needs long-term help with keeping my head and heart in a good place, then I'll be grateful for medication that does the job and continue taking it.
So, back to Caramel and the people that stuffed rabbit represents.
Questions about how I was feeling. Prayers. Hugs. Reminders not to isolate. Treats and notes of encouragement at church. Kindness when I took extended breaks from church. Listening to my verbal processing. Happy mail. Questions about how counseling was going. Phone calls. Texts. E-mails. Facebook messages. Video chats. Practical help with making decisions. Lunch dates. Words of affirmation. Personal stories of similar struggles.
I could go on, but the bottom line is that kindness matters. It matters a lot. If you know someone is struggling with depression on any level, show up for them in whatever way you're able. And remember that you often won't know that the person you're interacting with is depressed. They may not look the part at all, but your behavior and attitude will either add to their burden or ease a little piece of it. So just be kind.
As for me, I'm so very thankful to be crawling out of the hole of depression over the last year. I'm still a work in progress, but I've had loving hands reach out to help pull me up. That little stuffed rabbit reminds me every day of my gratitude for those people and encourages me to keep moving forward.