This morning I read a well-intentioned but silly article listing ten things to say and not to say to people suffering from depression. As I read it, I felt more and more like a jerk because none of the “right” things to say would be right to say to *me*. I kept thinking, “Really? That’s supposed to help? Why are they telling people to say this?” So I felt worse than ever after reading it – until I saw that one of the commenters shared my feelings.
I realize articles like this are meant to be helpful; all the good intentions on earth get poured in there and slopped together in a big happy mess. However, in depression’s case, this only makes everything worse.
Here’s why: When you give people a list of ‘things to say’ to someone who suffers from ___________ [<– fill in the blank, although this is specifically about depression], you are setting up an expectation in them of being able to actually help their stricken loved one via America’s favorite kind of panacea: Instamatic Helpfulness!
No. Anything Instamatic is probably crap, which we should really know by now.
So what ends up happening is that well-intended people try to reach out, perhaps using these ‘magic words’ listed in the article, and when this does not end up helping, the would-be helper is disappointed. Perhaps even hurt or confused. This adds more complication to the already staggering burden of depression.
Our culture has become obsessed with noise, filling every void with it, meaningless or not. C.S. Lewis had a quote that went something like, ‘Music and Silence are divine; noise is diabolical.’ Yeah, I’m too lazy (depressed) to look it up, but I do agree with that.
But Americans love noise! Noise and what I sometimes call “I-CAN-DO-IT”ness combine in this tragically deformed philosophy that there must be *something* to say for every occasion. There has to be some magic word, some special key, some button to push or sequence of buttons to push, that will solve every problem and unlock every door.
The thing is, there isn’t. Video games are a great escape in part because there is always a solution and often a shortcut; but that is simply not always the way life works.
The deepest, most profound emotion can never be expressed in words, whether it’s joy, sorrow, terror, or rage. In the cases of both joy and sorrow, words can so easily cheapen and ruin these moments of hushed, sacred feeling that almost hum with genuine fullness of being.
Depression is not the same as sorrow, and vice-versa; but a similar rule applies, I find. Depression is a battle that can only be fought by one person, no matter how loving or well-intended his or her family and friends may be in wishing to help conquer it. It’s a private battleground; no seconds allowed in the ring.
I’m not saying support and love are not welcome and appreciated. They certainly are; but I for one feel much freer to concentrate on each day’s challenges when that love and support is given with understanding, respect; with silence.
I love silence; it can be soothing, healing, and restful in a way nothing else really can. When I’m fighting depression, I do realize the ‘fight’ looks a lot more like me lying down in the mud refusing to move; but believe me, I’m fighting. And silence will help me far more than a cheerleading section or a parade of attempted distractions.
It’s OK not to have the answers. It’s really not OK to try to pretend we do.
zylah 