Some of the tough stuff

There is something on my mind that I’ve been mulling over for quite a long time.  I didn’t want to write about it at first because I wasn’t sure if I could do so without going too far into personal matters that are not my own.  Now I think I can write about this without any problem.  It’s all a matter of finding the correct words. 

This past summer, in the beginning of July, I think it was, our Pastor’s son died.  He committed suicide. 

(An aside: what powerful words-commit suicide.  They are so final, which I guess is because they are final.  It’s not like a person DOES suicide.  A person COMMITS suicide.  It’s an all or nothing deal.  Anyway, back to the original post.)

This was a shock within our congregation and within the synod circles.  You can never really understand what drives a person to commit suicide (there it is again!).  The only explanation given was that he was “too enamored with the ways of the world.”  He was 30 years old.  He died on his 30^th birthday. 

This post is not necessarily about that, though.  Not long after the news got around to everyone, the daughters of our previous Pastor posted bible verses on their Facebook pages.  Which was nice, and I know where they were coming from with that.  It was a way to show from whence help can come and to not despair.  The issue I had was the younger one added, “If you’re having a problem, TALK to someone about it!”

Good words, I will admit.  However, they’re too simplistic.  There’s so much more to it than just “talking to someone about it.” 

I wasn’t able to explain that to her.  She’s now a freshman in college.  She still has the rosy outlook of a teenager.  I’m not willing to be the one to take that away from her.  Unfortunately, for most people, life experiences do that anyway.

I will begin this next portion with the explanation that I have never been suicidal.  Let me repeat: I HAVE NEVER BEEN SUICIDAL. 

Okay, now that’s out of the way.

Knowing my own background and struggle with depression, I know some of the thoughts a person can have.  I also know how difficult it can be to either voice those thoughts or to express that one is even having those negative thoughts.  For me, there are three main reasons for this:

A.     I don’t want to burden others with my problems. 

B.      I feel no one can understand my issues, so I don’t even try to explain.

C.     I’m not sure I can even find the correct words for what is going through my mind.

A lot of the time, I try to just muddle through on my own when I feel the depression coming back.  I go through good times and bad times.  Because of the three aforementioned reasons, I don’t tell people right away what is going on.  Why should I be the downer?  What good would it do, anyway?  How can I accurately explain what’s going through my mind?

And, now, knowing those difficulties I’ve had with mental illness, I can understand better what a person may go through.  

So, saying, “If you’re having a problem, TALK to someone about it” just doesn’t work all the time.  It’s an easy platitude for those who have never experienced depression/other mental illness to say.  It makes the people saying it feel better, maybe.  It’s like finding a leak in a dam and sticking your finger in it to make it stop: You may think it’s working, but it ignores the bigger issues that caused the leak. 

I also need to say that I’ve had wonderful people around me to help me through.  My most awesomest husband, Matt.  He helps me by taking up the slack around the house when I just don’t feel I can do anything.  He doesn’t judge.  Or, if he does, he doesn’t voice it.  He knows I do enough of that for myself.  He also doesn’t pressure me to say anything.  He just waits.  He knows in time it will come.

Also, I have my Minda.  She’s had her own battles and made it through.  She knows some of what I’m feeling and also knows how difficult it can be to explain.  Again, there’s no pressure from her, like Matt, she just waits.  She understands that with every emotion I have there’s always the underlying: Is that really me, or is it the depression again?  While everyone experiencing this crud is different, she is also able to say, “Well, in MY experience…” and luckily, I’m able to value that as it is.  (Go liberal arts education! WHOO!)

And I can’t forget Mary, who has cheered for me (whether she knows it or not), and prompted me to write about the experiences.  She knows sometimes saying something is difficult, but somehow writing it out is easier.  Maybe it’s the connection between the brain and the hands that aids that.  And when something is written, it can be erased, edited, etc.  When you say something, you can’t UNsay it.  You’re committed to the oral process, the written process is made to be edited. 

And now, if you made it to the end of this, I applaud you.  I’m happy I’ve made it to the end of this writing.  It explains many thoughts I’ve had.  I’ve finally been able to process them, and get them down.  In a nice, edited way.