Photo by Lloyd Morgan

It’s 11 days before Christmas.  It’s 8:00 in the morning, raining outside, and cozy and dark where I sit in the living room.  The 18 year old is up, but the rest of the kids are still in bed where they’ll remain for the next several hours.   I have my coffee and my laptop, and the dogs – having already been let out, fed and watered – are snoozing peacefully on the carpet below me. I hear the occasional car outside, as neighbors head to work, and every now and then the rain picks up, beating hard against the tile of the back patio.  It is peaceful and idyllic and yet… there’s a sadness, just below the surface.

The holidays always make everything so heightened.  While I’m trying to keep things fun and say “yes” as often as I can to the kids, and “no” to as much as I need to in order to make the “yeses” possible;  While I do the shopping and the wrapping and the cleaning and the baking; While I tick items off a to-do list that no matter how carefully I cull and prioritize, always seems just a few items too long; While I try to stop, and breathe, and appreciate and sink into all the little moments in between the chaos…

I do it all through the immobilizing dark threads of depression that have once again gathered at the corners of my psyche.

It’s a tricky thing, depression.  And it’s by and large a secret thing, not exactly the stuff of light holiday party fare.  Society tells us not to talk about it too much (or at all) because it’s… dark. Uncomfortable. Too personal.  But while I of course can’t speak for anyone else, the biggest reason that I don’t talk about it more is simply one of straight-up frustration. It’s the same reason that I am so, so reluctant to share any medical issues (a whole other post for another day):

People invariably want to try to fix it.

And please don’t misunderstand me.  I absolutely understand and appreciate that the vast majority of people are well intentioned, and just want to help.   I do.  But the thing is,

You can’t fix someone else’s depression.  You just can’t.

If you think about it, even professionals don’t fix it.  They provide support, and they provide resources, and they provide tools, but they don’t fix it.  The actual fixing, or managing as it were, comes from the individual and no one else.  And to say that a journey to wellness is highly individualized and personal would be a gross understatement.  I know what’s worked – and not worked – for me in the past.  I know what I’m willing – and not willing – to try in the moment.  What I don’t know is what the answer is for someone else.

As much as you may want to, you can’t fix it for someone else.  And unless your friend specifically tells you, “I need advice”, I can all but promise you that advice is the last thing she wants.  She knows that therapy is an option.  She knows about essential oils and meditation and yoga and the importance of eating well and getting rest.  She knows about medications and natural supplements.  She’s heard all the quotes and the inspirational words and the over-used platitudes.  What your friend needs from you – ALL your friend needs from you – is for you to be there.

Some of the greatest, and most helpful, things that people have said to me when I’m having a hard time are also the most simple.  These are the things I so wish I could hear more of.  These are the things that help.

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m thinking of you.”

“I love you.”

“I understand.”*  (But only if you really do.)

Unchecked depression is a hard thing to explain to someone else who’s never been there.  It’s not the same thing as being bummed out, or sad, or disappointed.  It’s pervasive.  It hurts.  It’s an ever-present weight on your heart, and your mind, and your body.  Every second of every day.  It’s like viewing the world, and yourself, and others, through soldered-on glasses that are the wrong prescription.   It’s a prison, and as an observer, you don’t have the key.

And I get it.  Individual personalities plays a large role here.   Some people are just hard-wired to want to immediately offer solutions (my husband.) Others are hard-wired to completely shut down when they’re given unsolicited advice (me.) But the fact remains, no matter what side of the spectrum you may land on, depression isn’t something you can solve for someone else. The best you can do is offer unconditional love and support, even when – or especially when! – the person in question wants to push everyone away.

You cannot fix it.   But you can be there, and that’s enough.

A dear friend once sent me some well-timed gourmet loose teas in the mail, and it was one of the best gifts I’ve ever gotten.  And it wasn’t so much the tea itself (even though it was lovely, and very much enjoyed)  It was what the teas represented.  They represented, “I’m sorry.”  “I’m thinking of you.”  “I love you.”

Tea doesn’t cure depression, this much is true.  But the healing power of friendship?  That is immeasurable.

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(I also wrote about depression here.)

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