Depression is a beast. Sometimes you can spot it coming. But often, it sneaks up and grabs you from behind. At these times, the normal weaponry – self-care, support from friends/GP, comfort TV, maintenance meds – feel like sword-fighting with a plastic spoon. Or it would if you were up for a fight. Which, (along with other tasks like getting washed, cleaning your teeth and breathing), you’re not.
A friend comes to you and says that they’re struggling.
‘Tell me this will end.’
‘I can’t believe anyone else can feel like this.’
‘Why can’t I just pull myself together?’
….
and there are answers – of a kind.
‘It will end – but maybe not for a while – and even then, more slowly than you’d like.’
‘You’re not on your own – I promise. Other people can help – but yes, there are times when you feel unutterably alone.’
‘You can’t pull yourself together any more than you unravelled yourself to start with. That’s what sucks.’
…
You could say this. But what’s harder than solutions, is sharing in the sadness. Not offering suggestions or trying to fix. Not running from the force of a loved one’s despair.
Admitting – I don’t have answers. Acknowledging what’s separate as well as what’s shared. Allowing the silence to speak – even when it fills the room. Even when it’s deafening.
Taking yourself out of the solution. And recognising that there might not be one – at least, not in the way you want. Not in the way you find comfortable.
Most of all, remembering that the Lord often speaks – when we stop talking.
“But what’s harder than solutions, is sharing in the sadness.”
So true.
It’s hard, but I am so grateful to everyone who ‘shared’ my sadness – just sat with me in it and didn’t leave! I hope I can do the same…
Spot on, as always. And in fact, sometimes you actually don’t *want* people to try to fix or cure or have the answers; sometimes there is more comfort in them just being there and acknowledging that things are rubbish.