I recently posted this to my Facebook, and after reading it out loud to a compassionate ear I decided this was worth sharing to a broader audience.
The recent death of Robin Williams has brought a lot of attention to depression and humor, to society and suicide, and I have a few thoughts I'd like to share.
It's really easy to trivialize depression. For those that don't have it, it's really easy to say "well, why don't you do X" or "you don't seem depressed" and other types of statements that only deepen the feeling there's a distinct lack of connection.
For some, medication can help. But medication comes with side-effects; and especially with psychiatry it's a bunch of experimentation until you find the right dosage of the right drug. Even then the side-effects may be unbearable. Even when they work, sometimes it replaces the everlasting gloom with... nothing. An unbearable blankness of neither joy nor sadness.
If you haven't been able to tell from the above allusions, I actually suffer from depression in a pretty deep sort of way. I have it under control most of the time. I've discovered that, for me, a consistent regimen of therapy, running, and working out are sufficient to lift me out of the doldrums. If I go more than a day or two without doing at least an hour's worth of physical activity, there's a bit of a downward slide.
Thing is, up until about five years ago I didn't really think there was something that bad. It took a suicide scare for me to get to the point of knowing there was something wrong and I needed to do something about it. The first time I was on medication it felt like an emotional lifting; it was the revelation that "oh, I don't actually need to feel that way." It's been a long journey for me to get to a point where I've found the right things to deal with it, but I never lose sight of the fact what works for me doesn't work for everyone.
Before I found the right mix, I'd already been to a number of different therapists. I'd already tried a lot of different strategies, including meditation, including music and art, including a whole lot of different activities that seemed to help mitigate the effects, but didn't really solve it. And during that entire time, I had no idea that things were still bad. When I would tell people that I had issues with depression, they'd always say "you always seem cheery! It's hard to imagine." Humor was a way to handle it, as was showing off, as were other methods of putting myself into the spotlight.
As a child that cheeriness was my actual feeling. Over time, as the depression worsened, that cheeriness was a way for me to avoid having to answer uncomfortable questions.
I guess the points of mindfulness are thus:
1. Don't trivialize someone's depression; it exists, it's an immoveable object, and sadness is not the same.
2. If you think someone is depressed, the best thing you can do is be there even when things are going poorly.
3. What works for one person doesn't work for someone else, and to make statements about actual actions isn't really helpful; we know there are things to try, but when you feel a certain way, activation energy is devilishly difficult to achieve.
I'm fine nowadays (I've had at least a few years of pretty good emotional health), but I ask that if you know someone who's showing signs, please be understanding. And if you're one of those people that needs an understanding non-judgemental ear, I'm always available.
Peace.