Many times I’ve used the illustration of the impact of even the smallest light in the darkness. During this walk through depression, I experienced this on a very personal level. Things that might seem insignificant to others and things I might typically miss, were substantial sources of encouragement in my darkness.
On Friday, I mentioned my colleague who provided support and compassion. I am amazingly grateful for her presence. Other people also offered moments of support. When I first announced my depression, there were numerous notes and comments sent to encourage me. The expressions of love and support were a tremendous source of strength. A few friends offered to assist with, “anything you need.” While such words can be empty, these were not. They were an open invitation for me to reach out for anything.
I received a number of emails and texts offering encouragement. Most began, “I don’t expect you to respond to this…” It was moving to have people understand that the pressure to respond was difficult when things are hard. It was challenging to deal with my own issues. Implied needs felt like big additions to the list. Encouragement offered with no strings attached felt like personal blessings.
This experience was very difficult for my wife, but she never let it show. She supported what I needed even when it was hard. She sat with me as we watched, more than once, movies we saw many times before. (People struggling with anxiety and depression frequently rewatch familiar material because it doesn’t require deep attention, it is comforting, and there are no surprises.) She worked with me even when my mood shifted frequently. Almost every night, there was a hand-written note on my pillow when I came to bed. Some were kind words, some good memories, and some prayers. I have the stack of them on the bedside table. Just looking at them is an encouragement.
Tiny, temporary moments made a significant difference. Most people know I am a voracious reader. To be unable to read for months was excruciating. Every couple of months, a day would cause things to relent enough for some reading. Those days, few in number, were like Christmas morning. The same was true for the days I could create. It was difficult to look at pens, paint, and brushes, and be unable to use them. Creative days were a breath of fresh air.
I will say more about my faith and faith journey in a future post, but the days when I would sense the presence of God, when words, music, even nature would break through long enough to see beauty and find a moment of hope, were celebrations.
One of the most surprising points of light came in the amazing support I received through strangers on social media. I would share a bad headspace day and hundreds of people would respond with support and encouragement. Many of them had similar struggles and understood my thoughts and feelings. Oh, I received a few, “what do you have to be depressed about?” comments. Often before I saw them, the same strangers would forcefully stand in the gap for me and shut those voices down, then they would offer even more support. They didn’t know that those actions were making up for places that was missing in my life. They truly had my back.
There are many more moments like these. I began a gratitude journal a few years ago, and that practice helped me remember these bright spots when there were none to see. Sometimes, all I needed was a memory of a little light to find hope again.
As I continue to share my story, you will probably see the rollercoaster of this journey, but know there were moments of beauty, wonder, and love. I’ll be back with more on Wednesday. Thanks for joining me.
