The First Swing

Now that things have returned to normal a bit, and my little resurgent spout with depression has all but receded, I have been left pondering the battle behind and before me, and the battles of others.  My heart feels burdened for those who are struggling with depression.  I have prayed for a while now, asking God what He would have me do with what I have learned. I still don't know the whole answer, but one thing I know I can do is share what I can to encourage anyone who is struggling or loves someone struggling with depression.  After some thought, I have decided that, even though entire books could be written on what I will share, I am going to attempt (remember, I said attempt) brevity.

So, in the name of Jesus, may the Holy Spirit give me insight and clarity with what I share.  

I want to start by simply talking about words, and how they affect depression, and our discussion on it.  All you have to do is listen to someone who struggles with depression try to explain just what it is they feel.  It will sound contradictory.  I hated explaining my depression to others, though I longed for their understanding and empathy.  I knew I could not ever explain it.  When I tried, the usual response was a look of confusion.  I often felt that I had further distanced my self from them when I tried.  I now understand that is because their simply are no words for it.  Human language has many words, each word usually carries multiple meanings.  Yet, there are gaps.  All concepts are not covered.  For example, Japanese apparently has direct word for love.  They have honor, respect, etc., but not love.  We have love, but compared to Greek, that is still lacking.  They have multiple words for love, making the discernment between your love for your wife, and your wings even greater (there better be a difference (gives evil eye)).  Even the word depression is misleading.  Before I struggled with "Depression", I had felt "depressed" before, but they were two different things.  Both are painful, and deal with emotions, but they are not the same thing.  Between the lack of verbage, and the lack of shared experience, it is understandable that empathy is difficult, or it may even be difficult to believe (my brother thought I was faking my depression at first.  Only after a year was he then convinced I was not.) So, there's a start.  Recognize that just because you may not have felt anything like it, or that they can't describe it with words, doesn't make it any less real.  It is very very real, and you can help, more than you know.