The Depression Dialogue

I was going to say something about the death of Robin Williams because it has affected me so profoundly. I woke up yesterday feeling like life was okay and then I turned on the radio and heard the news again and realized that life is not okay and the world is now Less Than. I cried on my drive to work and for a few hours I had to avoid reading anything about him or his death and I wasn't sure I'd be able to function for the day. But then other people have said things in blogs and articles and posts and it seems like a lot and most of it has been said in a better way than I could anyway.

What I am going to say today is different than what was forming in my head yesterday. I want to say thank you for the mostly supportive outpouring of emotion. Thank you to those who have shared their stories about their battles with this asshole of a disease and thank you to those who try to understand it and reacted with sympathy rather than judgment. For yesterday and today and, hopefully, a few days from now, I feel a part of a community that finally gets me. I feel like I'm not alone. I would like to hope for more than a few days, but that seems overly optimistic. The truth is that this death, this loss, will cease to become headline news. You'll go on with your lives, you'll go to your jobs, you'll take care of your kids, and this will become a sad, distant memory.

Please don't. Please don't let this death be for naught. Please start the discussion and continue it. Depression didn't start with Robin Williams and it won't end with him. Many of us will continue the battle; it isn't over. When the media frenzy dies down and the rest of you go back to your lives, we'll still be here fighting. Only that wonderful sense of community I feel right now? That will go away. Depression, being the hateful bitch that it is, will tell me I'm alone after all. It will lie to all of us and push us back into our dark corners. Those days are coming, no matter what I do. It's just a matter of time.

So, please. Find out what you can do for those you love who are suffering. Educate yourselves on how twisted this disease is, how we didn't ask for it and we don't want it. Learn how to help and how to set aside your judgment. Remember, that when we smile the brightest we may be hurting the deepest. Don't forget that. Ask questions, open your arms for hugs, sit and listen, hold our hands. Reach out and don't stop reaching out.

Don't let depression steal more from us than it already has. Start the dialogue now.

Reacting to Today's Loss

I don't have anything to add fact-wise to the event that occurred at Bend High School today. I can't comment on this particular student or the parents. What I can surmise is the tremendous amount of pain that this child was in. What I can expect is that these parents are now in pain that we, especially those of us who are parents, don't want to imagine. Beyond that, I will not conjecture on the details surrounding this incident.

However, we live in a world of instant information, where everyone who thinks they know anything is willing to send it out to the ethernet without thinking about how their words will affect others. There is judgment. There is second-guessing of the school's actions. There are solutions being proposed based on anger. Anger born out of fear.

Again, I don't have those answers. But I am going to plead with you to stop. Stop and think about what you are saying. This isn't a television show. Nobody in that room today chose for this to happen to them. Nobody in that school could predict the reactions of every single person outside those walls. Please don't react with criticism but with compassion.

I have a feeling that today's tragedy will linger with me longer than most of this type. It happened at a high school in my town. So, yeah, there's that. It's close to home. But it's close to home in another way.

We think that these things can't happen to us. We think our kids are invincible to such damaging emotions and damaged psyches. But we're not. You're not. I'm not. This was D and me just a few months ago. Even knowing what she was struggling with, I never imagined that she could take her own life. Not for real. Not until she told me that she didn't feel like she could control or trust herself not to do it. I didn't want to believe it, who does? But I finally had to.

We don't want to think our kids can hurt so much. We think that buying them warm coats and feeding them pizza and going to their games and dances is enough. That's what parents do, right? Of course.

But there's more. We have to listen to them. We have to pay attention. Don't assume that sudden moodiness is just common teenage asshole behavior. It very well could be, but don't take the chance at missing something. Talk to your kids. Let them see you fail. Oh boy, that was a hard one for me, but they need to know that parents are also just people. That they don't have to live up to perfection or unrealistic expectations.

Know your child's friends. Notice when these friends change. Ask. Ask why. Ask about school and ask about activities and ask how they feel in their own skin. They want you to. They want to know that you care about more than just grades or game scores. They want to know that they're loved.

Tell them you love them. Every day. Hug them when they need it. Hug them when you need it. Hug them when it will embarrass them because they secretly love it then too.

And even if you do all of these things, and you still can't stop the pain of depression, know that you did your best. That we don't win all the battles. We just do our best. When one of us loses the battle, show up for them with love and compassion and kindness and acceptance.

Open your hearts to those affected by today's tragedy. Trust that people did their best. Be extra kind to those around you.

Tonight, hug your kids a little tighter. Feel the gratitude.

Defining Self-Harm

I opened up publicly about something that D and I have been going through yesterday. Because of the responses I got, I wanted to talk more about her self-harm. This is going to be long and might contain triggers, so please proceed with caution. 

Also, I want to add the disclaimer that I am telling you this from my perspective as a parent. I have not self-harmed, although I have been in dark enough places at some points where I could see the attraction of it. I am not a medical professional so I can only answer questions based on my experience and suggest that, if this ever happens in your family, you need to talk to a professional. 

D told me herself that she was cutting. This was after she told her school counselor and her pediatrician. While I was hurt that she didn't tell me at first, I was proud of her for standing up for herself and asking for help. I had to put my ego aside. 

To learn how to cope with this, I talked to her school counselor and her therapist. I scoured the internet for information. I read groups for parents and cutters. I read medical reports. And I still couldn't wrap my head around it. 

Her counselor's opinion was that, since her cuts were so neat and symmetrical, she wasn't suicidal. She was looking for control. A lot of what I read confirmed that cutting isn't necessarily a suicide attempt. Because she had only been doing it a couple of months, I thought maybe it was just a phase. Her counselor also told me that it comes in waves at the high school. A group of girls will suddenly start doing it at the same time. 

In that first year, I went through a thousand emotions. I'm not proud of a lot of it, but then I was coming from a place of fear. When I felt she was doing it just for attention, I threatened to take away privileges. When I was really scared I yelled at her and told her I didn't understand her, that she was just stressing me out. I pleaded. I cajoled. Once, when we were in the dressing room while she tried on a bikini, I fought back tears when I saw the lines on her hips. I blamed myself over and over and over. I defined myself as a failure. 

I tried to be reasonable. I tried to be understanding. I shamed a lot. I researched more. I asked her why. Why? 

D is somewhat of a control freak. If we have an argument, she can't leave it to resolve itself later. She has to have it all smoothed over the moment she wants it. Which isn't realistic when I'm still angry. So some of the way that she chose to cut convinced me that she just needed that control and that was the way she found it. And some of that was true, but she also explained that it was a way to punish herself. She hated that she was depressed and felt sorry for herself knowing that there are so many people with "real" problems who have it worse. So she hurt herself. 

In my more reasonable moments, I told her that it scared me. I told her I didn't understand. I told her that everything I do is just because I love her and I want her to be happy. I let her know that I was wrong. Her response? Gratitude. Gratitude for telling her that I too make mistakes and I don't expect her to be perfect. 

In the really good moments, she expressed that she wanted to stop. One month she said she wanted to cut deeper, that she wanted to see how far she could go. She told me she liked it. I know that sounds like a horrible moment, and it was truly terrifying, but it told me that she was really working it out. She was testing her limits. Until, one day, she did cut too deeply. And it scared the shit out of her and she really wanted to stop. 

So then, like an addict, she started counting how long between cuttings. Two weeks. Several days. A month. When she made it to six weeks and then self-harmed again, she told me she was ashamed and worried that I would be disappointed. "But you said you were proud of me for making it so long." I hugged her and told her I was proud of her, no matter what. I was proud that she kept trying and I was proud that she opened up to me. 

I think her real suicidal moments came when she stopped cutting. Because she no longer was allowing herself that release, she was just stuck with all of the ugly thoughts bottling up inside of her. I told her that was pretty normal. Often, it gets a hell of a lot worse before it gets better. 

And, just like with the suicide, I don't think her self-harm is entirely behind us. I hope it is, but it served a purpose for her and she might find she "needs" it again. She has said that she doesn't want scars that she will have to one day explain to her children. She makes lists of reasons not to do harmful things. 

Now, why have I told you all of this aside from my own catharsis? Because there are dozens upon dozens of reasons that people do things that we can't explain. And if you're one of those people, or the parent of one of those people, it is really scary. And people judge. However, the biggest reason that people judge is because they just don't understand. It's simple ignorance. If you're up to it, you can try to educate them. If it's not in you that day, just walk away and take care of yourself. 

If someone you love is hurting, get help. Get help for them and get help for you. I went back to my therapist to help me cope and be able to better support D. Talk to people you trust. Gather the wagons, build your cocoons, and trust that it will get better. Communicate, communicate, communicate. 

Whatever It Takes

A few months ago my world came crashing down around me. I came home to D crying and telling me she wanted to kill herself. We've been working on and dealing with her depression for nearly two years and that included cutting, but I didn't realize just how bad she was feeling. While I hated her cutting, I told myself that, because it was out in the open, it didn't indicate any actual suicidal ideation.

She didn't want to tell me at first because she didn't want to scare me. She asked a friend to come get the knife that she had previously used to cut herself. The one she found hidden in her room. But when she found that she was afraid to be alone because she might really hurt herself, she had to tell me. I did my best to remain calm and supportive for her, but on the inside I was shattered.

We made appointments with her therapist and psychiatrist. We discussed inpatient treatment and we added an additional medication. We evaluated the options and decided that we would work to avoid the inpatient option. First, there isn't a facility in our town and she would have had to go away and neither of us was in love with that idea. She's also been behind in school and missing another large chunk of time didn't feel right. Still, we left it open as a backup. Because I would do whatever it took.

Those first few weeks were incredibly painful. My baby girl was miserable inside her own skin and I couldn't do anything to change that. I was terrified that I would lose her. Every morning I went to wake her up I would pause at the door, hoping against all hope that my worst nightmare wasn't about to come true. I canceled plans with friends so she wouldn't be home alone. I rearranged my work schedule, I let her break the normal rules of hanging out with friends after school. I did whatever it took to make sure she felt safe. Safe from herself.

In the beginning, she didn't want anyone to know. I wanted to respect her wishes so I didn't talk about it. And, although I wasn't ashamed of her and her feelings, I felt like I had failed as a parent. Where did I go wrong that I didn't protect her from this?

And then I had a Halloween party. I had fun. I laughed, everyone else had a good time, it was successful as far as parties go. When everyone left, I fell apart and sobbed to my best friend. Because if I'm going to lose it with anyone, it's going to be her.

A few days later I opened up to the few people I trusted. The amount of support I got was overwhelming. It gave me hope and enough strength to keep trying and to feel less alone.

D also talked to friends and received the support she needed. Her new meds started to kick in a little bit. I checked in with her daily, asking her to rate her emotional scale. Anything below a five required a plan of action and we knew what those actions were. While most of us can handle a low of four or even three or two, D spiraled to zero almost immediately from that point. We evaluated the reasons for her ratings and how we could change them. The important thing was to be in touch and communicate every day.

A couple of months later she thought she had it handled. She put off therapy appointments, she even canceled one at the last minute to go to play rehearsal instead. A couple of days later she walked in the house and fell into my arms crying, saying again how tired she is of feeling this way. So we talked about how we're stuck with depression. This is a thing that we have, like some people have asthma or any other physical disability or health issue. We have to take care of ourselves, we have limits that we have to respect in order to take care of ourselves. Some things are too much sometimes and that's okay.

Now, a few months later, I think we're over the hump. We've learned what we need to do and what to look for. And, while I can breathe again, I'm not naive enough to think we're past this for good. We're just not. D, as a high school senior, is dealing with a lot of emotions and fears and doubts and excitement about what will happen in the next few months and in the future. It's all very normal and expected. To someone with a tendency towards severe depression, these stresses can send her spiraling down again. My hope is that we have both learned what to look out for before it gets to that bottom level.

The greatest lesson I have learned through all of this is that there is a lot of shit that just doesn't matter. During those dark weeks, I couldn't even focus on my weight like a normal neurotic woman. Because who cared if I lost those 15 pounds and looked amazing? What does that matter if my baby girl is gone? My job seemed nearly pointless. My friends, who I have always known that I appreciate and tell them fairly regularly, meant the absolute world to me. I gained enormous perspective. I became less afraid of a lot of things. Because the scariest thing in the world is losing the person you love the most. Everything after that is just an afterthought.

I think D has learned the strength she has. It takes real courage to ask for help. It takes a hell of a lot to tell someone the ugliest part of yourself and risk not being understood or, worse, ignored. Not only did she ask for help, but she kept asking for help until she got what she needed.

I asked her permission before sharing this with you. She didn't hesitate to say yes and that tells me how much she has grown and how much self-acceptance she has gained. My reason for telling you is that if you feel alone, you're not. If you're afraid to talk, don't stay quiet. If you're not heard the first time, try again. Try someone else. Do not lose what is important to you because of fear.

Most of all, don't lose hope.