On moving through depression and finding peace amidst the sadness
You take whatever works from wherever you can find it, and you keep moving toward the light. - Elizabeth Gilbert
Content Warning: mental health, self-harm, depression
For the majority of my life, I have known darkness that reaches me from the depths of my own despair. In my day-to-day, my baseline sits at what I call the low zone, where I function normally in a web of lower emotions. It’s always been an emotional ebb and flow for me, the way I move from sadness to happiness and back again. It’s like riding a wave with periods of high points when moving through harder moments feels easier and lighter, immediately followed by periods of low points where even getting out of bed feels impossible.
I remember the day I started having these negative thoughts and feelings, where days begin to drag and blur, and suddenly you’ve gone over a week without feeling normal — whatever that even means. I was eleven, in junior high, and it was around the time I first started menstruating. Unaware of the role my hormones were playing, I started thinking something was wrong with me — mood swings with deep lows, feeling irritable often, feeling needy, having either little appetite or intense cravings. At school, I would ask to leave class often, usually just to walk aimlessly around the building — likely listening to Breathe Me by Sia — absorbed in sadness and angst. Sometimes I would go to the nurse or check in with our school counselor. I coped mostly by doing what I know now are seen as typical teenager things. I had a journal where I wrote down all of my hard feelings. I spent a lot of time hanging out with friends, even if I should have been focusing on school work, which at times caused me to fall behind a bit.
I also did some things that I know now were a cry for help, like engaging in alcohol use and self-harm. While underage alcohol use is unfortunately seen as typical behavior, self-harming is more common in teenagers than you might think — around one in five. In my experience, self-harm was a tactic I used to take control of my body when I felt I lacked control over everything else. I was always aware that I wasn’t invincible, that I could cause irreversible damage to myself, so I never pushed it anything too far. Still, I did what I felt like I could at the time to relieve the pressure. In my mind, I was reaching out, begging for anyone to just see me, but I didn’t even know what it was that I needed.
It’s been a long, winding road from where I was emotionally at eleven to where I am today at thirty-one. I started working with therapists, counselors and psychiatrists when I was twelve. I tried medication for ADHD, talk therapy, and even was recommended yoga and mindfulness when I was sixteen — a practice which I continue to do today, as consistently as life allows. While I am much more aware of the dark days as an adult than I was in adolescence, the dark days still very much do exist.
About a month ago, I hit one of the lowest points I’ve been at in a long time. Thinking back on it today, I can’t even remember what caused it. Maybe it was just life stuff? Maybe it was because work has been especially slow? Maybe it was hormonal? I just remember being surprised by it; I couldn’t believe the thoughts that were running through my head. They were darker than even I’m used to, rooted in anger more than in sadness. I wasn’t sure if I was coming to a realization or losing it all.
I remember the entire day was a blur, and I was just going through the motions. At some point after the sun set, I realized I was standing on the rails of an overpass bridge, staring down onto the open highway. I’m not sure if I was just curious what it would feel like to stand up there or if it was something more dire. If I fell, I’m not sure it would have been a far enough drop to sustain anything but a few broken bones, but the cars speeding underneath me would have been a different story. I remember feeling a huge gust of wind that wrapped my hair around my face, blocking my vision for a few fleeting seconds. When the breeze let up, it’s as if I came to, slowly comprehending where I was and what I was doing. I jumped down onto the sidewalk and turned around, trying to catch my breath. I watched the cars passing in front of me on Sunset Boulevard, trying to make sense of everything. Eventually, after a few long minutes, I walked back to my car, drove home, and went to sleep.
It’s hard to unravel and make sense of moments like those. Initially, the next morning I woke up feeling better, but once it all sinks in, I realized just how vulnerable I am in the darkness, just how bad things could get. If that experience taught me anything, it’s that this depression is constant, sneaky and never-ending. It‘s going to take really purposeful and intentional work to manage it, but it will never be something that goes away. As my therapist puts it, the dark thoughts are part of me. They’re pieces of my soul, and the best thing I can hope for is that I learn to accept these parts of myself.
It’s two sides of a coin: Some days are harder than others, just as some days are easier than others. For me, the coping mechanisms are only half of it. The rest comes from self-care that I implement even on the good days, by settling into routine and using mindful thinking. Therapy works really well, but it’s not easily available or accessible to everyone. Sometimes, having just a few sessions with a trained professional can be the push you need by giving you some tools to use, if you can afford it. But honestly, a lot of the work I’ve done for myself, I’ve done on my own. I have tried to track the harder days to see if there’s a pattern — sometimes it does line up with my menstrual cycle — but other times the days are more random. I’ve also done some workshops designed to help women reconnect with their bodies — which has been extremely helpful for me — and I’ve talked a little bit about that experience here. It can be hard for friends and family to really understand what it feels like to move through depression and darkness — unless they struggle with it themselves — and even then, we don’t usually have the skills needed to help someone through such a difficult experience, but having a solid support system is crucial to finding self-acceptance.
The sooner you take the time to get to know yourself, the sooner you can figure out what you can do to meet your needs so that you can support yourself during the more challenging moments of life. What is helpful for me might not be helpful for you, which could be as simple as going for a walk or having coffee with a friend. Whatever it is, it’s important to learn it so you can know what works — and, no matter what, keep moving toward the light.
If you or someone you know is struggling with depression and/or suicidal thoughts, know that you are not alone. There are resources available to you, and I have linked some organizations here:
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