8 Things I Wish People Understood About My Battle with Depression and Anxiety

Trigger warning: this article contains content around depression, anxiety, and intrusive thoughts.

I’ve had both depression and anxiety since I was a child.

I wasn’t diagnosed with it by a professional until my late twenties, but it’s been my faithful, lifelong companion for as long as I can remember.

I’ve had therapy and continue to manage my brain chemistry with medicine that helps me regulate. I’ve learned that walking helps. I get my 10-12k steps/day more for my brain health than for my rockin’ dad bod. A good diet helps as well when I can make myself do that. (I don’t always.)

Last week I told one of my closest friends exactly how depressed I was a few years back.

I had specific intrusive thoughts in recent years that were troubling to me in a new way. At first, I told nobody about them. Then, over the course of 18 months, I first told my therapist, then my wife, then my closest friend, then my parents, then a few other friends, including the one today. Now I’m telling all of you.

I am not going to use this platform for my own therapy.

Because that’s weird.

But more because it wouldn’t work anyway.

I am not going to air all of the things I was struggling with here for the world to read, but I’m comfortable talking about it in general.

I’m writing today not so much for those who also struggle with mental illness but for those of you who love them.

Here are eight things I want you to know about those of us who have depression:

1. Think of our illness as something that can go in and out of remission. With our friends who have cancer, we understand this concept. Some people with depression can go years or months without a serious episode. That doesn’t mean we are cured. We always know it’s still in us.

2. It may or may not be triggered by specific circumstances. My last bout was sparked by some things going on around me. That said, it isn’t always. Do not assume because someone you love is struggling that they have something awful going on they aren’t telling you about. They might, but they might just be battling their brain chemistry. And don’t assume it’s something you’ve done personally. That can be hard for the person struggling to hear. It’s okay to ask once if you have concerns you’ve upset them, but if they say no, then let it go. It’s rarely about you.

3. We don’t typically know how bad it is while we are in it. Know that when I say “bad,” it’s all relative to how we’ve experienced our own depression or anxiety to date. What may seem “bad” to me might be a good day for someone else who has a more crippling illness. Each time I exit a season of depression, I instantly see that it was worse than I was letting on. I tend to convince myself that I am less troubled than I really am while I’m in the middle of an episode.

4. You can help in some ways — and not in other ways. You can help your loved one by being curious, but also by letting them know that it’s ok if they don’t want to talk. You can ask them to join you in the things that you know might help them, but let them say no if they aren’t up to it. (Things like exercise, or starting a diet, or meditating, etc. ) The single most important thing is to be present with us when we are open to it. We don’t need to hear words so much. We need to feel less alone. I’m not a touchy-feely person, but appropriate hugs and touching are helpful to me. It reminds my body that I am not alone. Even a dog or cat sleeping next to me does that. We rarely will ask for a hug, but we nearly always need one. Learn to ask, “May I give you a hug?” (Ask first. It helps us introverts prepare to receive it better.)

5. Don’t tell us it will all be ok. We know that you don’t know that for sure. It makes us feel like we lack something to be told things like that. For me, it makes me think that you see me as small. Similar not-helpful things to say include: “Just have more faith and trust God,” or “Just snap out of it,” or “Your life is actually pretty good.” Avoid triteness like the plague. Depression often finds deep and thoughtful people to take residence in. We don’t like cheap answers. And when we hear them we know it means you don’t understand what we are going through.

6. We know we are hurting you. For me, this is the worst part. I know when I am struggling that I bring down most rooms I enter. I can often mask it at work and social engagements, but then those I love get a double dose of my sadness after I get home. I can’t overstate how hard it is to know that part of “who you are” hurts those you love.

7. We often experience unjustified guilt and self-hatred because of our illness. Largely because of the fact that we know we are making others sad or anxious, we experience guilt. I’m lucky that I’ve never experienced a major physical disease, but I am sure this happens to anyone whose sickness creates a burden for others. There is a stigma with mental illness. It feels somehow worse to us that our depression negatively affects your life. The stigma that what we have is somehow “our fault” when compared to any other illness has real power over us at times.

8. Give us hope by talking about your intentions instead of our problems. All of your instincts will be to want to help us by telling us how loved we are, how much we mean to others, how great we are at things, etc. What matters more is hearing your intentions with us. Things like: “I love you, and I’m not going anywhere.” “I will be here anytime you want to talk, and I’ll check in with you weekly if I don’t hear from you.” “I don’t understand what you’re going through, but I’ll be here with you every step of the way.” “Nothing you tell me will make me love you less or want to leave you.”’

I know this is a heavier than my normal posts here.
I also know it’s one that many people need to read.

Life is hard.

To quote the Buddha, “Life is suffering.”

Some of us just suffer a little deeper than others.

If you are someone who struggles with depression and read this far, I’m very disappointed in you. I told you it was for your friends.

Kidding.

If what I wrote resonated with you and you want to be vulnerable like I have been, consider privately sharing this with someone you love. It might be hard for them to hear, but trust me, they want to know. They love you.

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