Into the battle

Cannon to right of them,
Cannon to left of them,
Cannon in front of them
Volley'd & thunder'd;
Storm'd at with shot and shell,
Boldly they rode and well,
Into the jaws of Death,
Into the mouth of Hell
Rode the six hundred.

The Charge of the Light Brigade
~ Alfred, Lord Tennyson (1854)

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In this mortal life I am doing daily battle with the front and center enemy... depression. It is physically, mentally and emotionally draining, accompanied by finite strength and motivation. Being responsible and strong all the time - all day, every day - with constant decisions about anything and everything is very heavy and wearing. I may be moving slow, yet still get up and prepare the best I can for the day’s fight. When there is not one ounce of energy or desire left - something inside keeps me going.

Yet there are times when I just want someone else to take the helm and make all the decisions for me - is that too much to ask?

     “Come unto me, all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.” (Matthew 11:28)

A pronounced longing for the promised rest is often present - wondering where and why it seems to be hiding. Depression gives a very believable illusion that the heavens are sealed shut, where prayers bounce off a low hanging lead ceiling. But I hold tight to my faith that He is listening, and it isn’t just a one-sided conversation when I talk to Him through prayer many times a day, and always in my heart.

     Jesus, Savior, pilot me
     Over life’s tempestuous sea;
     Boist’rous waves obey thy will
     When thou say’st to them, “Be still!”
     Chart and compass came from thee;
     Jesus, Savior, pilot me.

     When at last I near the shore,
     And the fearful breakers roar
     ‘Twixt me and the peaceful rest,
     Then, while leaning on thy breast,
     May I hear thee say to me,
     “Fear not; I will pilot thee.”

Hymn: Jesus, Savior, Pilot Me

Invisible me

Many years ago I remember laying in bed at night, before drifting off to sleep, wishing that I had a broken arm or leg - something that others could physically see was wrong with me. I wanted someone, anyone, to "see" the pain I was in, and not accept my lies of healthiness. One of the frustrating things about depression, is that it is not a visible illness. Like others with invisible illnesses, I wanted someone to recognize and acknowledge my reality.

A clinically depressed person becomes very good at building walls, and using creative excuses to explain what is happening to them. They are in effect isolating themselves from others, because there is the feeling that you should not impose yourself on anyone else. Distorted thoughts tell you that by so doing you might drag that person into your world of darkness and somehow infect them. This is something not to be wished on anyone, and so the anguish continues in deafening silence. I am finally at a point where I can attempt to break the silence myself, and allow people a glimpse inside my walls.

Those self imposed walls do not easily allow others to come in. It takes a lot of courage and empathy - along with knowing that often resistance will be given - to break through the walls. Even if that contact of love and friendship is strongly desired, and appears to the depressed person as pure manna from heaven.

In my personal opinion, the worst of all things that plagues someone suffering from clinical depression is that... spiritual thoughts and strengths which offer guidance and comfort are gone. You long for the warmth of the Lord's Spirit, but because of depression are unable to feel it. Emotions felt are guilt and gloom, where reality becomes negative and distorted. Prayers often appear to go unanswered, bouncing off a very low ceiling.

Unable to recognize why the Spirit has seemingly abandoned you - then you start to think that God no longer loves you, and that depression is your punishment for all your apparent failures. You find it difficult to love yourself, so why should anyone, including God, love you. This falsely perceived spiritual abandonment appears to be evidence that you must have committed some sin, and are no longer considered to be worthy. Even though no memory of sins committed come to mind to prove your distorted hypothesis.

I recently read an ecclesiastical leader's perspective on depression that has helped me immensely, and gives me hope... "Guidance by and blessings of the Spirit are still given, but they may not be recognized. Ironically, at a time when the member [of the church] most needs to feel the presence of the Spirit and know that she is loved, depression injures the ability to feel this comfort. Without question, depression colors the perception of the member. Heavenly Father loves all his children, including those with depression, and he still answers their prayers. The presence and influence of the Holy Ghost can still direct their lives." (Reaching for Hope, an LDS perspective on recovering from depression, p131).

My prayers no longer bounce off a low hanging ceiling, I know that God is listening - even if I can't feel it in my heart the greater majority of the time. I have vivid and distinct memories to which I cling with my whole being - of times when I have been cradled in the arms of my Savior, and felt His love for me so real. I may not be able to feel heaven's love now - but I have felt it in the past, and this I cannot allow myself to ever forget. This is what gives me strength to hold fast to the iron rod, continue on, and not give up on life.