Depression:

An experience that is all too familiar. I'm sure others can relate to some degree when I say that no matter what point in time, they or someone they care about is struggling with depression. It seems that if I'm not having a bout with it, someone that means the world to me is. The scariest part of it all is that it can't really be mapped out. There's no battle plan, there's no phrases, no secret fixes, no willpower, no strategy that's going to prevail, and subsequently it feels as if there's no hope.

I hope to give some insight into my struggle with a mix of depression and anxiety that ended up being the reason why I dropped out mid semester. The truly frightening part of all came when I realize what's at stake:

"For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms." - Ephesians 6:12

Plain and simple: Satan seeks to abuse God's creation. Depression is a powerful tool, making people believe lies about reality and ultimately about themselves. What those lies entail have an infinite range and vary from person to person. I hope that by explaining my experience others who have also struggled will find a sense of camaraderie or solidarity, and those who have not dealt with depression personally will find understanding and compassion.

The Fear is Crippling.

The first lie I believed was the one that kept me bound for so long: I had to be the strong one, and letting people know I was struggling when I was supposed to be a role model would mean I let them down.

I was an upper-classman on the floor I lived on and was supposed to be an example. But I knew my insecurities. I knew I wasn't as fearless as I made myself out to be, I knew I stressed out over what people thought, and I knew I'd fallen short of the standard God had for me. Every harsh word, every impatient moment, every impure thought, I found myself to be the devil in disguise and entirely untouchable by any sort of grace. A quote from a song paradoxically played over and over in my head:

Are you the one that's come to set me free?
Cause if you knew who I am, would you really wanna die for me? - P.O.D., "I Am"

"No."

That was the answer. Consequently, I figured friends and family would feel the same way. If I exposed all the baggage I was carrying, would my they stay?

I Made My Own Prison.

It got to a point where I couldn't handle it anymore. The lying about how I was doing, the pretending to be excited over anything, the endless search for distractions to get away from the reality of my state. So I ultimately would stay in my room, leaving only because I cared about two of the classes I had.

I wanted someone, anyone, to come and ask questions, even if I couldn't or would have a hard time answering them. I mostly didn't want to be alone, but I also didn't have the energy left to play the part socially. I decided it wasn't right to burden my friends. I mean, I care about them right? How could I put them through that? And if I did tell them, I fully expected them to leave.

One of the most profound moments occurred when I was alone in my room, and a friend of mine walked in with her laptop and plopped down onto the couch next to me. She asked if I was depressed. I admitted I was. She opened Netflix and we binge watched Fargo so that we could at least be depressed together. I wasn't alone.

There's nothing anyone could do, but there also was.

This is the most confusing part. I'll try to give you an example of how I felt: Imagine the Hulk transforming, where the emotion becomes uncontrollable and it felt like I was tearing apart, the desire to scream at the top of your lungs until they collapse. It felt like I was losing control. It felt like at every moment, I was going to implode. It wasn't necessarily anger, but more akin to agony. It feels like every part of you is being stretched past its ability, and you've finally hit your critical mass.

It feels like nothing and nobody can save you, nothing can stop whatever is coming. But sometimes there is the metaphorical Betty Ross there, and by some strange chain reaction, things calm down and you can think clearly again.

On the other hand, sometimes there's just too much in motion. Nobody can stop it, and friends have to watch as I lose my mind. But there was a hidden beauty to this; someone saw me break, and they did not walk away. Satan's lies are exposed, and there's hope. I wasn't alone.

I Wanted to Hear Someone Tell Me the Voice Inside was Wrong.

I wasn't looking for an ego boost, I just wanted someone to tell me that in all my disastrous self, I was loved.

"...that he who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus." -Phil. 1:6b

When I looked in the mirror, it shook my belief in the faithfulness of God. This was the most petrifying fear of all, because if God wasn't faithful, or I was at least not going to be addressed by God, then my prognosis was true: there was no hope. Maybe Jesus really didn't come to set me free.

I saw myself becoming everything I'd hated. I wondered why I couldn't get away from it.

I want to add a disclaimer to the following: Not everyone with depression is like this, and this might not be how people want you to approach them. This is just my experience, and it should not be applied as a general rule of thumb for people with depression. This is really important.

I wanted someone to grapple with me, wrestle me to the ground and tell me that I was wrong, that I wasn't seeing things clearly. I wanted someone to passionately denounce what I so passionately believed.

It wasn't as if someone telling me that I was wrong changed my mind. But the fact that they knew where I was and that they were willing to fight through it with me. Them being there wanting to help and truly believing that things were different made a giant impact. At first it was more guilt-inspiring because I'd figured they'd missed something. But they came to know more, and they stayed. I wasn't alone.

But in the end, it's a maze, and nobody knows the way through it. You just keep walking.

I don't know any one moment that turned everything around. I know I had friends that wouldn't let me stop walking forward, I know that my church and, more specifically, my small group never left my side. God's faithfulness was manifest in all of these, in every friend that clung so close.

But it was confusing, there was no answer to why, there was no rhyme or reason, it just was. There was no method, no systematic approach, just chaos. The depression made no sense, I couldn't figure a way out of it. I was lost and consumed, but I wasn't alone.

With every dusk comes a dawn, both are temporary.

To those who were like me, and felt like you had nobody to turn to, trust me when I say you just have to give it a shot, chances are you're out of options anyways.

To those who know someone like me, sometimes we just need a good hug and a reassuring voice that we aren't alone. You can't fix us, but you can help us keep walking. And that alone will be monumental to us.

I have no other explanation, no map in which to provide a way through the fog, just hopefully a visceral feeling explained that either produces a sense of solidarity or provides a window in which to understand throes of depression.

This was, with a few omissions, my struggle and I hope it provides something of use to those who either have not experienced it, or provides some sort of comfort to those experiencing it.

And now I know, I am not alone.

Final disclaimer: If someone is dealing with depression, this might be similar to how they feel, but may not be similar in the necessary approach to helping them. People are intricate and have different nuances, and depression is incredibly difficult to navigate. My only broad spectrum advice is to not abandon the people you care about.