Chapter 7. Depressed

I want so badly to feel happy. My kids need me to do normal mom things. Like birthday parties. About the time I am in darkest depression (winter 1996), Becky is turning 13 and wants to do a birthday trip with friends to the Mall of America. I agree, not having the strength to say no, but hardly having the strength to live the yes.

The ‘celebration’ is excruciatingly difficult, each step full of effort, with smile pasted on and kind consideration forced. Becky recalls the trip to be a good time and has no memory of my subdued dark emotional state. I often could muster up what was needed for the family, but in doing so exhausted myself.

Much of the motivation to get well then was for the sake of Gregg and the kids. If I didn’t have them, I’ve wondered if my death wishes might have turned into suicide success. Probably in hopes of deterring me from taking a permanent path of escape, therapist Maureen shared her perspective that kids who lose a parent to suicide are most disturbed. That insight actually helped. 

My kids needed me. Someone wanted me or needed me to be in this world, even if I didn’t want to exist in such pain. Son Seth has known the nothingness of depression, and as a high-schooler expressed --

People say you’re depressed

Sometimes they’re right.

You feel your throat choke

And your eyes close;

You lean back

In Disgust at yourself.

You wish you weren’t what you are

But nothing can change that

You are taught self-worth

By people who don’t understand

You are taught values

By pagans and Christians both

But they’re blurred

And you’re lonely

And you wish something would happen

Because anything is better than Nothing.

My heart still hurts when I revisit the sentiments in this poem. I feel the deep ache both as one who has been in the icy claw of depression, and as a parent who stands by feeling helpless when a child hurts so hard.

When there’s pain, I wish that I could take it all away – wave a wand and make it disappear. Couldn’t God do that? Wouldn’t God want to do that for God’s children?

Though God doesn’t seem to remove this affliction from some, I want to believe God – a presence beyond time, be it supreme Being or collective consciousness – loves and suffers with us all. I am grateful to NOT know what it would be like to suffer with people in all places, in all times, in all ways. I am grateful too that pain can be shared and can be redemptive.

Your pain is the breaking of the shell that encloses your understanding.

- Khalil Gibran