On weekends we sing the blues
Tuesday, 08 June, 2004
I have decided to take my own advice: “Be honest with other people about how things are going and whether or not I am coping”. I figure it is silly to be scared of blogging about depression just because every time I do it, a whole horde of emails come descending upon me telling me to do this or do that which isn't very helpful at all. Ben said it eloquently the other day—all I want is someone to sit with me in the ashes, à lá Job. I'm a bit sick of people implying that things are the way they are because we refuse to do anything about it and therefore it's our fault—we brought it on ourselves. On Saturday I went to church for rehearsal and to sing at the ordination service of Darren from Engadine Anglican. I met him on Tuesday night at their evangelistic dinner. Ben was completely stuffed from the night before when he went to IBM and afterwards to Kendy's place to watch Lost in Translation so he stayed home. It was the first ordination service I've ever attended and it was a little strange, what with all the robes and hoods and lengthy prayer book readings. I asked Reg afterwards about the ordinand's oath to obey his presiding bishop and he said that it was in terms of the Scriptures; if the bishop asked you to do something that Scripture clearly forbids, you do not have to do it and you would not be violating your oath. I decided not to stay for morning tea but did a little grocery shopping and went home. Ben was still in bed so I made him get up, have a shower and eat something. We took our deck furniture which we've never used in the four and a half years that we've been married and had lunch on the balcony in the sunshine. I discovered that there are actually sheep over our neighbours' back fence; I'd been wondering where the noises were coming from. Ben wasn't doing too well and he told me he didn't want to go to Sydney that afternoon for dinner with my mum and Peter. I said that it was okay—that he could stay home—as long as he didn't end up sad and alone because I can't stand the thought of him being sad and alone at home. He had vague ideas of staying over at someone's house and made some phone calls to make arrangements. At this point I had to get cracking with my Sunday school lesson. Unfortunately I didn't finish it in time which caused all sorts of problems because I'd planned to be in Sydney for most of Sunday, having lunch with my friend from school and her boyfriend. I rang her and left a message asking if we could do lunch in Wollongong because that would give me more time. Then it was time to leave to drive to Sydney. Ben decided at the very last minute (ie. just as I was stepping into the car) to come along. We listened to Phillip Jensen's talks on Love, Sex and Marriage because he deals briefly with homosexuality in them, as well as talking about the theology of sex, which I thought would be quite useful for Sleepover. We went to Ben's parents' place first so I could rehearse with Ben's sister for her singing eistedfodd on Friday (I got roped into playing for her the night before; in future, methinks, I should say “No” more often to these sorts of things). She's singing “Innocent Eyes” (Delta Goodrem) which has a fairly easy accompaniment. While I was doing that, however, Ben was getting a talking-to by his mother which wasn't very helpful at all. When we got back in the car, he said to me, “I wish I hadn't come.” But we still went on to my mum's place for dinner and he was able to do nothing—read things, eat pistachio nuts—while I helped with dinner. Nobody mentioned depression—at least not to Ben's face. We left at 10, got home at 11 and went to bed. My school friend couldn't come down to Wollongong given that she was driving back to Canberra that afternoon. Neither could she do breakfast because she was going to be out late on Saturday night. So we cancelled, which was a bit of a relief, really, because I wasn't sure how I was going to do everything on Sunday. Sunday I got up at 10, did the laundry, had a shower, ate breakfast, read my Bible, prayed and then got into my Sunday school lesson to try to finish it off. I was experimenting—I thought I could get the girls to read the story aloud and then make up their own play to act it out. I assembled all sorts of funny clothes and props they could use to do it. Ben went out to spend time with Pete and came back to drive me to church. He decided to go to the Baptist church for 5 o'clock Bible study. My Sunday school lesson turned out to be a bit of a disaster; many of my girls do not have a very good reading level so had problems reading aloud (well, at least I know for next time). They also failed to pull together to act out a play—they really need stronger leadership and organisation to do that sort of creative thing. I still think I managed to get the big point across, though. I had band practice. Ben messaged me and said he was going to stay at the Baptist church. I think exhaustion started to creep up on me at that point and I only just managed to get through the service without running out and locking myself in the women's toilets because I felt so horrible. I got another message after the service from Ben saying that he would get a ride home from someone so I went home and ate my dinner while watching Amelie to cheer myself up. Ben came home and the phone rang. It was Tim. Ben and Tim ended up having a very long phone conversation which Ben found helpful. I went bed but I was still awake when Ben came in.Posted in: Depression
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“...all I want is someone to sit with me in the dust…”
That sums it up heaps well for me. I get the impression that many people think that depression is a self-pity/attention-attraction exercise, which (at least, with my friends who have experienced clinical depression) is not the case. I guess sometimes, it’s a bigger help when you just empathise rather than suggesting a way out.
On a lighter note, did I spy the first instance of a mouseover on /karen/?
Do you find its harder on weekends as your title implies or weekdays? Maybe on weekdays there’s not much time for introspection.
Yes, weekdays are so busy and you don’t stop so it kind of builds up until the weekend.
But really I put that as the title because I wanted to talk about my weekend.
Ben, what mouseover are you talking about?
That is great that you were so honest. I know exactly what you mean about wanting someone to “sit in the dust” with you. The solutions just aren’t relevant, you have to ride out the dark times.
Depression is the artists curse. It is the ransom the muse demands of us in return for the power to create. If it were not part of Bens personality, he would also lack many of those gifts which make him uniquely valuable. Maybe there is some small comfort in that…
few thoughts fwiw:
1. Having a whole bunch of people offering tips/suggestions/solutions doesn’t sound like such a bad problem!
2. I had an idea last night and I’m thinking in terms of my own experience here - but the whole “I just want someone who can empathise with me” thing is a bit of a furphy imo. The mysterious person I imagine when I think like this doesn’t exist, I’ve decided, sad as it is. At the end of the day, most people are hopelessly unequipped to deal with their own problems, let alone yours/ours/mine. Am I wrong? (probably…
3. The _real_ problem imo (and why you might be feeling slightly annoyed after those two points
is our society gives absolutely no room for people to express their pain/hurt/suffering and be understood. None. Too hard. Too much effort. Too much time. Therefore we are left almost outside everyone else’s experience & existence - not so much in limbo (that’s still a place), but on a plane that, according to almost everyone around you, doesn’t exist. That’s what hurts the most imo.
I mean its nice that we have professionals for this sort of thing - but that alone says a lot about our society. It says “We care, but we don’t care enough to deal with it personally - you want it? You pay for it.” (I have nothing against said professionals, hell I might be one one day, but its an interesting aspect of our society).
The question then is: Is society going to change? Not in my lifetime, I don’t think. So for me I see two options: try and get better, or try and live with it (‘it’ being your ailment of choice). The later is a given, its not like you have a choice BUT to live with it, so I figure I may as well give the “try and get better” angle a shot. However I wonder how many people see “try and live with it” as a valid choice…
What most people don’t realise is that trying to get better can be (and often is) an absolutely brutal, punishing experience.
The benefits are /theoretically/ worth it (decades of good living), but the difficult thing is you never know if you will actually get them, and if you don’t, you more or less lose your life (for me anyway).
The timeframe works out roughly like this IMO:
- Each intervention needs ~3 months to test efficacy
- You probably need ~10 attempts or more (it varies widely) before you get close to the mark (let alone hit it).
3 x 10 = 30 months. Say it takes 8 tries and you nail it, that’s 2 years. Which is 2 years of failure after failure *on top of* what you’re already suffering in a society that doesn’t want to hear about it.
The benefits are, like I said, theoretically good - decades of good living, but the cost…
And for anyone thinking “Huh? The solution is easy: meds & a good therapist!” I smile at your naivety, and suggest that that “solution” is more to appease society’s conscious than it is to help those actually suffering. That’s not to say solutions don’t exist - they do - but that’s not often it.
-luke
Mouseover = hovering the cursor over ‘Reg’ brings up a title. Does that qualify as a mouseover?
This is something that Ben has struggled with on occasion; if the depression goes away, will he still be himself?
Personally I think that is a false way of thinking. God did not create us to be like this, however, because sin is in the world, we are like this. When Christ returns and this world passes away, including the depression, Ben will not be less of himself for it. In fact, he will be the way God intended him to be—his perfect creation—but without the depression.
I was thinking of javascript mouseovers, Ben.
But I am not looking for someone to solve my problem, like Mr Fixit from Men are From Mars, Women are From Venus. It speaks volumes to me that someone does understand (as much as they could understand anyway), that someone does think that it sucks, that someone knows how I’m feeling and feels sad along with me—sad for me, in fact. That someone mourns as I mourn. That’s not so hard, is it?
I watch Amelie when I’m sad too. Or Sense and Sensibility (oooh, Colonel Brandon!)
I wish I had Sense and Sensibility on DVD to watch! I have a silly ambition to get all the Austen movies on DVD.
I also reread bits of Harry Potter #5 when I’m sad or angry.
Absolutely. BTW what makes you think it will just ‘go away’? Everything has cause & effect…
I dunno, sounds like the underpants gnomes to me (from south park
:
1. Sin
2. ???
3. Depression.
What exactly is point 2? Sometimes cause & effect are a lot simpler.
Serious question: why not? I’m very much from Mars it seems (tho having never read the book tho).
If there was a cheap, simple, 100% effective solution for 100% of the population on the table, would you take it? If there was a cheap, simple, 90% effective solution for 90% of the population, would you take that?
Surely there’s a point where you would, infact, take the solution.
No, but these people are few & far between in my experience. But maybe that’s because I’m a male. And it doesn’t fix anything (haha). My comments above “our society gives absolutely no room for people to express their pain/hurt/suffering” probably could have been better expressed “our society gives absolutely no room for MEN to express their pain/hurt/suffering”, but if it did, would things be different? I don’t know…
Why do you want people to sympathize rather than help you fix the problem? Wouldn’t it be better to fix the problem or is it the case that you’ve heard all those suggestions before so they don’t have much value and sympathy has more?
I think you and Ben are doing a lot to help Ben’s depression; what more could people be wanting you to do?? ;p
You have a point about wanting understanding more than yet another ‘solution’. What is cool is that Jesus understands suffering and is right alongside you in the dust as well, willing to be with you and to one day help you guys up too. At least, that’s what I think. Could be wrong; it’s meant to be encouraging.
It’s hard, and it sucks, but it’s so cool that you guys aren’t giving up. God isn’t giving up on you either!
I certainly understand Karen’s point about wanting empathy rather than solutions. When things are really tough, there is great comfort in a listening friendly ear.
Someone asked “Whats wrong with solutions?” Well, to be blunt, 99% of the solutions offered to depression are utterly useless. Some of the gems I’ve heard are “Just snap out of it” or “Try and look at the bright side of things”.
When someone comes with a simplistic solution to a difficult problem, there is not much love IMO. Its like they’re saying “I dont have time to listen to this, I don’t have time to deal with this”
For that reason “Having a whole bunch of people offering tips/suggestions/solutions” is quite frustrating. What you really want is someone to listen. So please keep talking Karen and Ben, for as long as you need to.
Ok, some other miscellaneous points. I dont think the existence of professional therapists indicates that our society is fundamentally dysfunctional. We recognise and study and treat mental illness these days, just as we have done for physical illness for many years. Where is the problem with that.
Sure, other people (pastors, relatives) used to provide psychotherapy in the past, but so what? Barbers also used to perform surgery. Sometimes the development of a new professional class is an entirely desirable thing. Getting “old aunt Bessy” to take care of everyones problems may well be the therapeutic equivalent of having “Just Cuts” remove your appendix.
I wanted to talk a little more about the relationship between depression and creativity. I actually agree with you Karen. I think my point (which I distorted for dramatic effect) was that the creative temperament is prone to depression. That doesn’t mean you have to suffer it, just that its a constant danger.
I really agonized before I went on anti-depressants because I was worried it would kill off the creative side of me. Would I still be able to write? Would I still be able to play music?
Finally I had no choice. The depression spells were so severe that I couldn’t do anything anyway. Thankfully, the medication has helped stabilise my moods, and I find I am still able to work creatively.
But I think it has to be managed. A friend of mine, an artist and writer, was on the king of anti-depressants for a while, bad old Prozac. It stopped the depression, but she said it was like walking around in a bubble and she went off it.
Hi Karen,
I’ve come into this conversation late, but would like to add a few points (hey, why on earth not, everyone else seems to).
Firstly, I believe depression is associated with the type of personality you are - and yes, creative people are prone to it.
Secondly, antidepressants have different effects on different people. They keep me level and stop me bounding all over the place (up, down, up, down, down, down, up, down). I personally like them.
Thirdly, I feel your pain. I do. I really really really do. Sending you a virtual hug >>>>>>
Fourthly, while friends are of definite and positive value, they don’t always have the mental reserves to listen to a friend’s pain - even if they do care. That’s where qualified professionals can really help.
Fifthly, some people get better, some people don’t. I’m working at being as well as I can, but not kicking myself in the face if I have a day of succombing to the pain. I just call it a mental health day and try to look forward past that day and move on.
Sixthly, depression, like every other illness, pain and despair, will pass away at the coming of the new age. And a big Amen to that.
Another hug to you and Ben.
George