How Hard It Really Is: A Short, Honest Book About Depression

by J.S. Park

It is a nightmare of infinity wrapped in cellophane.

I tell myself, Everything's fine, everything's fine, a cognitive trick to pull myself out of the falling, but nothing is fine, nothing is fine. There's nothing I can do. My basket full of trinkets is weightless and a wrecking ball.

I wish I could say it gets easier each time, but I never know how long it's going to be. I never know when the colors will come back. I never know if this will be the one that wins. Clinical depression will often do whatever it wants with you. It has no rules or code or fairness or dignity.

It's a liar that sells truth: a false reality that says how-I-feel is who-I-really-am. And when a grafted lie overruns the truth, it doesn't matter that I have "every reason" to be fine: the lie has switched every goalpost and sunk the baseline.

Depression is the worst kind of lie, in that it not only attacks your self-worth and value, but steals the meaning out of words like "self-worth" and "value." It is cold inertia, slowing down worlds in orbit. It leaves you carved open, constantly bleeding out, unable to retain the vital stuff that makes life. There's spiritual discombobulation; every emotion is a phantom limb, and no amount of affirmation about "life-gets-better" can reach me there.

I must remind myself that there's so much worse in the world, and that the war inside cannot compare. I know. None of this makes the fog any easier.

The best thing we can offer each other is each other, our set of experiences, our voices, our ears, so that the tunnel is less intimidating and the light is not as distant as it was.

I've had clinical depression for as long as I can remember, a lifelong whisper on my shoulder feeding poison in my ear—but as familiar as it is, I've found it hard to show others that it's really there.

There's one death by suicide every forty seconds worldwide, and over half of the 40 million Americans with a mental illness don't seek treatment for depression.[5],[6]

A patient with cancer is treated much differently than a patient with depression, even though both diagnoses can lead to a terminal result.

the tide is changing.

"Nowhere," I tell him. "What do you mean?" he asks. "I'm just ... nowhere. And somewhere else. Like the thing with Zeno's arrow. Moving at a dead stop."

"I think ... I think I need a break. A long break." He draws his head back, bemused. "Why?" he asks. "I just want to die. I want to kill myself." "Why?" he asks again. "What for?" "It's nobody's fault, it's just my own problem."

You are not depressed. You are away."

I'm a pastor with depression, like the start of a bad bar joke.

There's no feeling. It's a constant nothing."

"I want to say it gets better or something, or there's a right combination of words for this, but it's not like that. It's a climb uphill through a swamp and the tide is against you. But the climb, you're not alone in that. I mean, some people won't understand, and they only know what certain parts of this will look like. But you're not climbing by yourself." "Together," she says, "is what I need right now. That's all I need right now." And we pray: God, be here somehow.

in the colorless fog,

If depression robs you of your ability to make sense of life, then any advice or solution is not going to reach into the heart of depression.

I've been told I was selfish, that I need to think about what I'm grateful for so that my mood would brighten.

- I dislike having to justify my depression because I don't always display symptoms of depression. If I have a good day or if I'm able to laugh or seem happy, I find people often think that my depression isn't a real illness, or that I can simply have a positive attitude and it will go away. I have good days and bad days, but it is still always there, just like any other chronic illness.

I think what aggravates me the most is the "Oh, I totally understand" conversation. No, no you don't. It's actually great that you don't; I wouldn't wish this on anyone.

Religious people tend to tell me I'm not trusting God/praying enough; non-religious people tend to tell me that I'm just not trying hard enough to be positive.

They tell you that it's just God growing you into a stronger person.

A sermon on God's love won't do the trick. As much as I adore God and love Scripture, a Bible quote isn't going to do the trick.

fixing the situation isn't simply a problem of 'getting motivated.'

Mental illness in its uglier forms can and does rob people of the capacity to lead healthy lives.

Depression is real and not something that can be willed away by better diet and sunlight. Yes, these things may help, but realize that 1.) these things will not instantly cure, and 2.) even the thought of taking these steps can be too much to ask for someone in the throes of depression."[17]

crying is the only way to heal through the river of all we have held inside.

it is easier to say 'My tooth is aching' than to say 'My heart is broken.'"[21]

"People bond more over shared brokenness than shared beliefs."

just knowing that they care enough to invest in me means the world.

in those depressed moments, every little thought counted.

Even perfect advice can have bad timing. And what's helpful for some is not for others. Some wanted the advice; for some, presence. For some, the Bible or a book; for some, music, or silence, or a party. Or as one respondent said, I want them to ask questions ... I want the curiosities to come out. I want to relay the truths. Just asking can be enough.

Saying nothing is sometimes the very thing I need.

Sometimes I just want the space for someone to hear me out, even if that means I say nothing at all.

"An individual is not their choices! Oh, not at all. They are much more."

The prosperous are lucky and the less fortunate have been victimized.

a classic dilemma: the debate between seeing mental illness as a choice versus a disease. It's a debate also seen with addiction, alcoholism, gambling, and body size—and unfortunately, like many issues, has been politicized between liberal and conservative dichotomies. "Choice" is seen as a fundamentalist, right-wing moralism while "disease" is seen as a pampered, bleeding-heart free-for-all. Maybe this debate shouldn't matter. Isn't it just abstract ideology and fruitless chest-thumping? But I believe this discussion matters. The way we perceive mental health will limit or expand our approach. A wrong perception can lead to the wrong treatment. If your car is speeding, it makes a difference to know whether you're driving too fast or your brakes have been cut. If your leg is in pain, it helps to know whether it's from a bruise, a break, or a blood clot.

The cost of misinformation is high.

depression is more like an omelette, composed of at least the three mentioned ingredients: biological, social, and psychological. Each ingredient can affect the other, which then reacts right back. It's a complex tapestry of causes and effects, and it's difficult to discern where one factor ends and the other begins.

One saved life is enough.

If someone is depressed because they're in a harmful career, marriage, or neighborhood, and then they're given antidepressants just to function in them, then it's as if that person is being drugged to tolerate their harmful situation. Medicine can allow you to tolerate a life that never should've been tolerated.[35]

Fixing our social situation won't magically cure depression.

locked in this same loop with no exit in sight.

Consider how we treat "inconvenient" groups of people. In the States, the elderly are quickly carted off to nursing homes, as opposed to other cultures' practices that generally care for the elderly.[39] It's why the homeless and criminals are seen in the States as morally repugnant and having "brought it on themselves," rather than as people who can be reformed.[40] And those with mental illnesses, including the depressed, are seen as a public nuisance, helplessly unfixable, or at worst, violently dangerous.[41]

do not have the luxury of supportive family members,

Am I doomed for the rest of my life?

No rational person would choose to have such a condition, and it cannot be "solved" any more than we could escape from a thousand foot pit brimming with slime.

But when our mind internally turns against us and self-sabotages during depression—there are options that can make it worse, and some that give us a few more breaths. The element of choice may be hijacked by our brains, which is a valid internal reality, and our social surroundings might keep us a hostage to forces beyond our control—but the door of choice is still before us, no matter how small it appears.