“Depression distorts the lens of your life.”
Stephanie D. Pearson-Davis
I fully intended to write about something different today. I wanted to write about friendship and womanhood. And maybe this will still be about that, in part. I… *sigh*
Yesterday, I was on social media when I saw a friend post about the death of a friend. You know what happens next; right? I had to know what happened to her. So, down the rabbit hole I went.
This woman was beautiful and young… Very young. Right away I thought, “She must have been sick or maybe she died from injuries associated with a terrible car crash. I literally started making shit up even though there was apart of me that already somehow knew the truth.
This beautiful woman, known and loved by so many, took her own life.
I spent at least an hour reading about her and all the love people had for her. I didn’t know her and yet, I was still so devastated by the loss.
Suicide just hits differently.
I started reflecting on why I wanted it to be a car crash or cancer or even a drug overdose. I mean, I’ve been in this space before. When Anthony Bourdain and Kate Spade killed themselves within days of each other and when Chris Cornell did the same I was dumbfounded. My heart ached and I wept for each of them and those they left behind.
When my sweet, beautiful, uber talented friend gained her freedom on Independence Day by stepping in front of a freight train I made up alternative scenarios for YEARS. Surely, she didn’t intend to take her life. She tripped. She had been at a bar that night. Maybe she got drunk and stumbled or got confused.
God. I have to stop myself from leaning into those alternative scenarios, because after all these years… I still don’t want be believe that one of the world’s brightest human beings died on purpose.
You know… we talk about so much with our friends, but not enough of those conversations are centered around our emotional and mental health. We talk about who pissed us off, why our children or partners are on our last nerve and how bad we need a vacation, but we rarely delve deeper into the why and the impact.
We don’t talk about the FEELINGS behind all the shit we deal with day to day. We don’t discuss that some days just being is difficult. Admittedly, I feel those feels every blue moon. People with depression feel them constantly… imagine the saddest song and the most hurtful, demeaning thing anyone has ever said to you infinitely looped only for your ears to hear… the song and the words in your own voice slowly and very quickly tearing you down.
When people see you, you look good. People love you, you laugh a lot… by societies standards you’re successful, you have friends and you’re gorgeous. You don’t see what they see.
Depression distorts the lens of your life.
You don’t see whole reflections. Your view is produced by a dirty, broken mirror.
The first thing you hear when you wake up, the last thing you hear before you go to bed and in every single free space in between, your mind hears that sad song and those demeaning words together, infinitely looped… convincing you that this world and you would be better served without your existence.
____________
Last night, someone I love posted a message asking for prayer. It wasn’t that she asked for prayer. It was the way she asked that alarmed me. This time, I didn’t try to act like it wasn’t what I knew it was. I immediately reached out to her and to other people who love her. It appeared to me, she was suffocating in darkness. She needed to be saturated in light.
This morning she messaged me and asked for specific, continued prayers and then she wrote,
“I am not ashamed.”
Whew. Do you know how many lives could be saved if folks were unashamed???
I just…
We need to be unashamed.
I’m sure somebody read her post last night and said, “Why would she put that on FB?”
I say to that person and people like them… What would you have preferred?
Yeah… let’s keep social media neat and tidy. When you feel like you’re under water, go ‘head and drown. If you yell for help, everyone will know you’re in trouble and we can’t have that. We can talk about your struggles once you don’t have them anymore. Like… at your funeral. Grief isn’t as messy as depression.
Save that respectability judgement for yourself.
People are dying, in part, because they’re more afraid of what people will say or think about them than pulling the trigger, hanging themselves, overdosing or walking in front of a freight train. They would rather die than hear the voices and face critical loveless judgement.
The moment we truly become more concerned with how we genuinely feel instead of how we want people to think we feel… When folks would rather help each other than gossip about each other… Then— Then, we can be healed.
Reach out to your “strong friend”. Ask her if she’s really ok. Go see her so you can look at her face… see if her smile meets her eyes. If you’re the “strong friend”, reject that shit. Every time you pretend to be ok, you die a little bit. Some people go all at once.
We must begin to deliberately cultivate safe spaces to share and heal our pain. We need to end the stigma of mental health and encourage one another to seek therapy and to take medication if necessary.
And for my religious zealots. God created all of it… therapy, psychiatry, medication. We good.
If you’re out there and you’re struggling, please know— Help is available to you. I am available to you. The voices are lying to you. You are worthy. You are rare gem that can never be replaced. Please don’t go.
The rest of us need to be there without loveless judgement. Your judgement should come from trying to ascertain the best way to assist… to love them back to light. When you see someone struggling ask them, “What can I do?” or “What do you need?”
I don’t mean for this to be a rant even though it probably feels like one. Every time I hear of a new suicide, the scab of an old wound gets picked. If you’ve ever lost a loved one to suicide— I know you know. And I’m so so sorry that we share this pain.
Loving one another elevates us all.
I’m glad you’re here.
I’m not here because I’m an expert. I’m here because I have experiences.