I am one of them.

Around this time last year, I shared my personal story about my struggle with major depressive disorder. The response from my friends and family was exceedingly thoughtful and supportive. Friends I had not spoken to in years reached out to say hello and offer words of comfort. Close friends offered their time and the best hugs. A few people in my life who shared versions of my story told me so, and reinforced the notion that oftentimes, we are oblivious to the challenges that those around us are facing - it also was a reminder of vulnerability's capacity to connect us. It taught me that my situation did not have to be lived in isolation – that those around me could sometimes relate, and at the very least empathize, when given the chance.



In learning about depression, it requires understanding that there exist varying degrees on the spectrum of the illness. Not being on its extremity does not mean that I shouldn’t seek help. Not addressing it doesn’t make it go away, and certainly doesn’t make me stronger – though I certainly held on to the belief that it did, for a long time. Not acknowledging it simply delayed maintaining a healthy quality of life.

I vividly remember the first time I ever even considered that I could be struggling with depression. I was teaching a Psychology class, and my students were presenting various mental illnesses as part of their unit projects. As one of my students presented the signs and symptoms of depression, I found myself identifying with nearly all of them at that time:


  • -       Sense of sadness and emptiness that persists for more than 2 weeks
  • -       Loss of interest in things that you once loved
  • -       Restlessness
  • -       Trouble concentrating or focusing
  • -       Fatigue and low energy

Even with a projector screen full of characteristics that described me, it was daunting to me to admit that I could be depressed. I was caught in the societal message that encouraged me to “enjoy every moment!”, and the false idea that I was to blame for all of my darker feelings and thoughts. Depression isn’t the inability to express gratitude, or the unwillingness to see the positive about the abundance of good in your life – it is the incapacity to fully and genuinely feel those things, despite your best efforts. For me, it feels like functioning with only a fraction of my soul and guts – the better part of both being turned off my foggy veil that can be lifted with my repair kit (see previous post on this topic here)

 Though the acceptance of mental illness as a legitimate health concern has grown, it is my belief that people still struggle to label themselves as someone who may need that help. Those same people would likely readily and wholeheartedly support loved ones who call on them – but, would feel reluctance or reticence in being the seekers of that same help. Perhaps because we prefer to hold on to an idea of our invincibility. “That’s not me” sometimes feels like a better, more empowering mantra to hold on to than “I am one of them”, even when it shouldn’t.

In sharing my story (again), I hope to do my part to destigmatize the “one of us” camp, the 20% of us who will deal with depression. I also hope that you will lend your support if you can to the good work of the Calgary Health Trust and their efforts with mental health initiatives. Despite my very poor/slightly embarrassing showing in the recent Calgary Marathon, I am running 10k in support of this worthwhile cause. I was FLOORED and thrilled to have raised $1608 this time last year for this cause, and would be ever so grateful for your donation if you’re able to contribute.

Click here to donate!


xoxo

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