Come By Here

My cluttered living room has me completely overwhelmed.

Kumbaya

I'm bullied every day because I'm different from everyone else.

Kumbaya

My spouse told me he doesn't love me any more.

Kumbaya

I'm depressed and no one understands or cares.


Kumbaya

My best friend lives across the country and I miss her.

Kumbaya

I don't know how I can afford to pay the mortgage this month.

Kumbaya


I don't fit in at my church.

Kumbaya

No one will ever want to marry me.

Kumbaya

My child screamed "I hate you!" at me.

Kumbaya

My parents kicked me out of the house because I'm gay.

Kumbaya

Alone. Weird. Ugly. Stupid. Unlovable. Worthless.

Kumbaya

The virgin will conceive and give birth to a son,

and they will call him Immanuel

(which means God with us).

~Matthew 1:23, NIV

Contrast

Depression words:
failure
rejected
numb
frustrated
haunted
suicidal
manipulated
worthless
dark
inadequate
cold
overwhelmed
hijacked

Community words:
capable
safe
blessed
valuable
forgiven
effective
peace
hope
strength
beautiful
unique
meaningful
loved

The contrast of living with depression alone and sharing your struggle with someone else is stark. For the stories where these words appear, check out the Not Alone book.

Not Alone Blog Tour

October 1 was the official release from Civitas Press of the Not Alone book. In order to celebrate, I've asked the contributors and some other blogging friends to share portions of their stories and their impressions of the book. This link-up will be active all week long and I hope that you'll stop by throughout the week to check it out and see what people are saying about the book.

If you have read it, I'd love it if you would consider leaving a review at Amazon. I genuinely believe that this is an important book and I would love to see it reach as many people as possible.

Thanks again to all who are participating in the blog tour. I know this wasn't an easy book to read and I appreciate you taking the time to review it. And of course, thank you a million times to all of the contributors. Your stories are powerful and dynamic and I am incredibly grateful to you for your generosity in sharing them.

Now, start to the clicking!

(Quick note to those linking up: Where it says "your name" please type the name of your post or your blog. That's what will be displayed in the link-up. And in the link, please include a direct link to the review. Thanks!)

Not Alone Available on Amazon!

In case you missed my media blast on Sunday, Not Alone is now available for purchase on Amazon! Which means if you buy it right now and pay for stupid expensive shipping rates, you can have it tomorrow! (You don't have to do that. But you know, you could.)

And just so you don't think that I'm the only person who likes this book, here are the endorsements that it has received (so far!):



"Stories are powerful. They humanize us, wreak havoc on our prejudices, and bind us together like societal glue. The personal essays in Not Alone do all these things. For those of us outside depression, they help us recognize bits of ourselves in an unfamiliar landscape. For those already intimate with depression, these stories can be a lifeline to community, an extended hand in the darkness. They show us no one is alone, and that point is worth celebrating.” — Jason Boyett, author of O Me of Little Faith and the Pocket Guide series


“When our journeys take us down dark and unfamiliar paths, we don’t need leaders with all the answers; we need friends with open arms. Not Alone brings together the voices of many such friends in essays that are alive with wisdom, honesty, humor, and grace. What makes this book so powerful is the diversity of the stories shared within it. No two journeys through depression are exactly the same, and yet no one needs to travel alone. What a joy it is to see such an impressive assemblage of smart, talented, and creative writers speaking words of hope into the world!” — Rachel Held Evans, popular blogger and author of Evolving in Monkey Town


"A book like this transcends a memoir. These essays make up a quasi-support group, where the reader can share in the experiences of multiple sufferers. Highly recommended for those who want to understand the 'human' element of depression.” — Rob Dobrenski, Ph.D., Licensed Psychologist and author of Crazy: Notes on and off the Couch


I am so excited to get this into the hands of as many people as possible. And as a little bit of a teaser, I will send a PDF including the foreword by the lovely and talented Elizabeth Esther and five stories to the first 10 people who comment here and leave a way for me to email you a PDF! (I promise, I won't spam you or sign you up for my RSS or anything gross like that - I'll just send you the sampler.)


So you have something to comment about, What book have you read recently that you would recommend? Or recommend against?

Not Alone Housekeeping

You guys, the book is at the printers, like, right now. Every time I think my excitement level is maxed out, it cranks up another notch or two. You've all been so awesome so far at helping me by providing stories, support, back links in your blogs, all kinds of stuff, and now that it's close, I've got a few more ways that you can help.

• Grab a button. I've got several different size buttons/ads that you can display on your website or blog (see the bottom of the post for examples and grab boxes). These will take folks to the Civitas website where they can order the book.
• Share the pre-order link on Facebook or Twitter or Google + or whatever cooler thing that I'm not familiar with yet. I promise you, there is someone in your circle of influence who is dealing with depression right now and these stories will be healing for them.
• Give a like to Civitas Press and Alise Write on Facebook. We'll be posting updates on those pages and you know you love Facebook. It's okay, we can all deal with our inability to quit it together. I'll start a Facebook group where we can support one another.
• I've got some goodies for folks who are interested in a review on their blog. You can either email me or leave a comment with your email address below and I'll get in touch with you about that. Also, if you're interested in an interview or podcast or guest post sometime next month when the book releases, hit me up now. No matter what you might hear from my bandmates, I'm really quite a nice person.

Again, thank you so much for your support thus far in the process and for helping me now to get the word out. Your friendship and encouragement have meant a ton to me and I sincerely thank you for everything!






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It Gets Better. And Worse. And Then Better Again.

I love the It Gets Better campaign from Dan Savage. I love that LGBT kids (or really any kids) can know that even in the midst of awful bullying, there is hope out there. That there are folks who are like them, and even folks who aren't, who care about them and want to see them make it. Seeing how people have survived middle school and high school and are now succeeding in life can be a really important reminder that when things seem bad, there is hope. Life gets better.

Only, you know, sometimes it doesn't.

There are brighter days, but there will probably be some darker days too. Life is full of loss, love, delight, pain, hurt, discovery, boredom, desire, fun. It's not a graph that has a steady incline, it's a jumbled mess of ups and downs that never stays the same way for very long.

So yes, if things are really bad right now, they will get better. And then they'll probably get bad again. And then better again. And right now, in the midst of the bad, know that there's Someone good who will be with you in all of the ups and downs.

(This was inspired by the following piece from Radiolab. Started listening to this podcast when I run, but heard this one in the car and it took my breath. Taken from David Eagleman's brilliant book Sum: Forty Tales from the Afterlives. Seriously, don't click away from this page without listening, because it is gorgeous. The piece starts at about 1:30.)

What I Did This August

Hello! I'm promise, I'm not a reanimated corpse, it's the real me, back to bring you more of my parentheses-filled writing!

First, I have to give a huge (!!!!) thanks to the 25 folks who guest posted last month. Seriously, twenty-five people agreed to help fill in while I was taking my break. That is absolutely ridiculous. What was even more amazing was that they stepped up and presented quality content here. I am genuinely grateful to each person who donated their work to me to help keep things afloat during my month off. And not just afloat, but like a luxury cruise-liner. I could gush for pages about this, but for reals, know that your generosity was deeply appreciated by this blogger. And if you missed any of the posts last month, be sure to go back and check them out, because there are all kinds of tasty nuggets for your brain and your soul contained within.

So! What was I up to in August? I spent a lot of time working on editing the Not Alone book. The stories are tremendously poignant and I hope through editing, we've made them even stronger. I'm thrilled to announce that my blogging friend Elizabeth Esther will be contributing the foreword to the book. Again, I am blown away by the kindness that I've been shown through this project. People have poured out hurts, fears, abuses, doubts - they have made themselves incredibly vulnerable. In case you missed my post, know that you can head over here to pre-order. The book will release on October 1.

Because one book project is simply not enough, I also pitched a new community book idea to Jonathan Brink over at Civitas Press. We're banging out some details right now, but I look forward to sharing more about that with you shortly. If you've ever been afraid of something, you'll want to stay tuned. (It's not a book about spiders. Or clowns. Or killer robots. So you can breathe a bit easier.) I've also got another e-book on the brain and have started to sketch that out. More about that later as well.

I also had a lovely vacation with my parents. Sadly Jason was unable to join us (sob!), but we did have a wonderful time. I had a great lunch with my mom, some heated (but good!) discussions with my dad, some relaxing time at the pool, a chance to read Tina Fey's Bossypants (affiliate link) and 20 pounds of chocolate covered sunflower seeds. It was a good vacation.

I've also had a busy month with the band. Lots of great gigs and time with some of my favorite, non-relative folks. We've got a couple more weddings on the books and then a bit of a break. Well, for most of us. Our lead male vocalist is getting married, our lead female vocalist is back to another year of dental school and our bass player is expecting his third next month. So hooray for them! That said, I do love these folks. Lots of great car conversations in the driving to and from gigs, some that were so intense that I ended up getting pulled over for speeding! Thanks again, Officer Menendez for the warning. You, sir, are the rock star.

Family-wise, the kids have been back in school a couple of weeks. My oldest is in 8th grade and is playing with the high school marching band, so I've been able to relive my much younger days of Friday night football games. Love it. My son is in 5th grade, which means that he started at the middle school this year. He has made the adjustment well and made a friend the first day. What was cool was that it was a young man that my sister had wanted to introduce him to over the summer, but never worked out. Always a treat when that happens! My younger daughter is in 4th grade and is doing well. She likes her teacher and I think after the shock of 3rd grade, she's doing better this year. She's still a bit of a free spirit for the rigidity of school, but she's doing well. And my baby has entered 3rd grade. It's hard for me to imagine that my little boy is already into one of those defining grades of school, but there we have it! He also appears to be making a good adjustment to the new, more rigorous demands of third grade, and I am so grateful that he has a wonderful teacher to help him with that.

Jason is doing well at his new job. There is a lot more traveling than we thought, but we're thankful that he's got steady employment with a company that is absolutely solid. He seems to get along with his co-workers and that's always a plus! While I will miss him when he's gone, I'm still thankful that I have such a fantastic spouse who is so suited for me. Hooray for happy marriage stuff!

So I think that pretty much brings us up to the present. It's very good to be back and I thank you all for sticking around and being kind to my guests while I was gone. Lots of good stuff to come!

What were you up to this last month? Also, please feel free to include comments about how much you've missed me. Because I'm needy like that.

Six Short Months Later...

Back in February, I announced that the Not Alone series was going to be made into a book and I asked you to consider either contributing to the book or looking for others who might want to share their stories.

The response was absolutely amazing.

As I've spent this month editing stories, I cannot tell you how many tissues I've gone through and how many times I've had to stop and walk away because of how affected I am. People have been extremely vulnerable with their essays and I can never thank them enough for the way they have poured out their souls into these words. It is a huge privilege to be a part of this project.

And so it is with great excitement that I am totally breaking my sabbatical (just for a second) to let you know that you can now pre-order the Not Alone book!

Really, if I've had any doubts about this project (and I imagine in the course of every project, those doubts creep up), they were put soundly to rest yesterday as I read through the comments to Tony's post. Stories about depression strike at something deep. The isolation that Tony talked about (and that all of the other contributors have mentioned) is very real and the sense of relief that you feel when you see someone else verbalize it can be almost tangible. Those comments reminded me that this project will have a profound impact and I am deeply grateful to be a part of it.

So click this link and order your copy of the book. Buy it for a friend who suffers depression. Buy it for someone who doesn't understand what it's like to go through depression. These stories are powerful and I believe they will speak to you, regardless of your association with depression.

Thank you so much for your support so far. I'm so happy that you've walked this path with me!



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The Allure of Depression by Tony Alicea

Every now and then, you get to meet someone who is just plain nice in every way. Tony is one of those people. And I know some people will be mad that I called a dude nice, but he just IS. He's kind and encouraging and funny and honest and nice. Anyway. This is a bit of a different side of Tony today. Still totally his voice, but this isn't something that I've seen him write about on his blog, and I'm glad that he was willing to share it here. 

+++++++++++

I don’t struggle with depression but I have gotten a glimpse of it.

Three years after my divorce, I hit a wall. This was different than anything I had ever experienced before. I wasn’t feeling the typical loneliness or sadness that I was used to. Those feelings came and went in spurts. This was deep, dark and in retrospect…absolutely terrifying.

I’ve seen depression in others in various forms. Visible changes in countenance and demeanor, a desire for isolation and a general sense of hopelessness are characteristics that I’ve witnessed first-hand. I never struggled with any of these individual symptoms for more than a very brief period. I always bounced back after a day or so. I could never fully relate to true feelings of depression I heard others talk about.

Then it happened to me.

I’m not exactly sure when it started but it wasn’t a scary, ominous feeling. On the contrary, depression began to wrap itself around me like a comfortable blanket.

I enjoyed isolating myself. I wasn’t seeking the attention of others. I didn’t want pity. I just wanted to be alone. I was disconsolate and I didn’t want to share that with anyone else. I was numb and withdrawn and it happened before I realized it.

I felt broken. I felt alone. I felt numb. I felt relief.

The inconceivable part was that I didn’t want it to go away. I was simply resigned to these new feelings. I didn’t have to fight to keep everything together anymore. I didn’t have to put on a happy face for those that may have been worried about me. The numbness felt like relief from the heaviness that I didn’t want to carry anymore.

I realized that I was depressed and I liked how it felt.

Almost instantly after this realization, I got a fast forwarded vision of where my life was headed. God began to show me clearly, the lies that I was believing. I saw that I was being deceived and that this false peace was going to kill me.

I consider it a miracle. I can’t say that I have ever contemplated suicide but I believe if I didn’t have this vision, I would have headed down that path.

As quickly as I sunk into this depression, I was pulled out. I felt like there was a hand that reached down into my self-made pit and pulled me out. And just like that, it was gone.

I learned that the true power of depression isn’t how low it takes you, but how completely deceived you can be to the truth. Depression didn’t cause me to fight against it, it caused me to resign with a false sense of relief.

The true power of depression over me wasn’t how bad it felt but how alluring it was.

++++++++

Tony is passionate about helping others discover their identity and destiny in life. He blogs about it at Expect The Exceptional. You can also find him regularly chatting on Twittter. He lives in south Florida and is engaged to the woman of his dreams.










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Repost: Can We Worship Through Grief?

This is an old one from my previous blog. I updated it a little bit, but the bulk is still the same. Last week, Shawn Smucker posted about the next Christian boycott. In it, there was a discussion about secular things. It kind of reminded me of this post and why I find that I'm drawn to a lot of "non-Christian" art. This post was originally inspired by a similar conversation.


+++++++++++

I think the first thing that we need to do is to define worship. Looking at dictionary.com, the definition that caught my eye was this:

to feel an adoring reverence or regard for (any person or thing).

I really love the idea of "adoring reverence." The picture I see in that definition is one that resonates with me deeply. So that leads me to the question, can we worship through lamentation?

I think that we can. I look at how I feel about my husband. I love him all the time. My mood doesn't really change that I love him. And honestly, sometimes I love him even more when I'm going through a difficult or painful situation. When people on the outside hurt me, it's good to know that I can turn to him for acceptance and love. Which, in turn, makes me love him all the more. And that tends to draw us closer to one another.

I don't think it should be any different in the church context. We hurt. We're hurt by others, we're hurt by circumstances, we're hurt by our own bad choices. And in the midst of that hurt, we should know that we can turn to God. Sadly, modern worship music hasn't offered much in the way of tools to express that hurt in a corporate setting. I think we're sometimes a bit afraid to offer that part of ourselves up. We hear folks talk about depression with a "just snap out of it" attitude and as a result, we're afraid to share our own pain with one another. Unfortunately, this can leave us feeling even more isolated and cut off, both from one another, but ultimately from God.

In my opinion, any tools, whether they be in the Church or outside of it, that we can use to express the full range of human emotion can only increase our ability to be authentic with one another and with God. And I believe that is a good thing.

+++++++++


What ways have you found that the Church helps you express grief? Do you find more inspiration in those seasons from Christian or secular sources? If you're a person of faith, do you find that secular sources can offer a measure of comfort? If you're not, do you ever draw comfort from spiritual teachings?

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Update on the Not Alone Book

Time for an update on the Not Alone book!

Our first submission deadline was May 24 and at that time, we had 31 submissions. I'm really pleased with the stories that we have received so far. The courage displayed from the authors is moving and I believe this project will have a positive impact on those who read it. I am grateful to those who have been so gracious in sharing their writing and their lives thus far.

All that said, we are extending the submission deadline to June 30 to allow for others to share their stories for the book. If you let time get away from you before, there is still time for you to submit your story for possible inclusion in the book. I'd love to see another 10 submissions this month. We're looking for stories to fall between 1000-2000 words and our categories are: Recognition/Awareness, Acceptance, Recovery, and Post-Depression Reflections.

If you head over to the Civitas site, you can download the updated project document. If you have already submitted, know that we'll be beginning the editing process over the summer, so if you haven't heard from Jonathan or me in a while, have patience! We'll be contacting you regarding any edits sometime in the next couple of months.

Again, I just want to thank you for your support of this project. The retweets, the Facebook shares, the encouraging comments, the promotion of this project on your blogs - you make me all gooshy and smiley. All of these things are making a difference in the lives of those affected by depression. You are having an impact and you should pat yourself on the back.

And if you can't easily reach your back, let your earholes be serenaded by the awesomeness of Mumford & Sons. Have a fantastic day.

Guest Post at ShawnSmucker.com for Not Alone

When I tell people that I blog, it can be met with some interesting reactions, though mostly I think it's apathy. I write for free on the internet. Just like millions of other people. Woo-hoo.

But I'm reminded all the time why I love doing this. I have connected with a phenomenal group of writers all over the country who have given me support way beyond what I could have imagined. Last week when I posted my silly vlog, making a plea for more submissions to the Not Alone book, I received not only some additional inquiries, which is fantastic, but also several offers to donate ad space for the project and a few opportunities to post about it on other sites. The generosity that the blogging community has shown me just knocks me over.

Today my friend Shawn Smucker is hosting a post I wrote about the project. I am so grateful to him for offering once again to allow me to write about something that is so dear to my heart on his blog. Giving up your space to let someone else write is always a gamble, and I appreciate it every time.

So stop on over to Shawn's blog and check out my piece. Thanks friends!

(If you would be interested in donating ad space for the Not Alone call for submission like the one on the right here, or would be interested in a guest post about the book,leave me a comment or send me an email. And if you're interested in submitting your story for the Not Alone book, be sure to check out the project document on the Civitas website. Thanks so much!)

Update on the Not Alone Book

Here's the link to the Civitas website where you can download the project document. Thanks again to those who have submitted. You're some of the bravest people that I know and I am honored that you've chosen to participate in this. If you have any questions, don't hesitate to ask here or you can shoot me an email.

Depression's Dreaded Sidekick

I met Joy on Twitter and I've been moved as I have gone back and read her story. Joy is a beautiful and honest writer as well a wonderful woman and I am so glad that we connected. I'm honored that she would share part of her story here with us today. If you would like to contribute to the Not Alone series and book, go here.



"God, I can't do this. Please take her before I screw her up."

I was sobbing as I huddled on the floor, back wedged into the corner of my parents' office. I was numb from exhaustion, almost too tired to blink. I had carried her downstairs so that she wouldn't wake anyone else up.


My 5-year-old daughter lay in the middle of the floor, kicking her legs, rocking on her back, rolling from side to side, and yelping happily. Wide awake. At 2am.

So many nights were like this. It never failed. In what felt like mere seconds after I fell asleep, I'd hear her start making her happy noises, loud and persistent happy noises. I'd lay in a state of half-sleep, begging God for her to go back to sleep so I wouldn't have to get up. Most of the time, she'd ramp up the whining and the volume, irritated that no-one else was up partying with her. I'd drag my weary cranky body out of bed to make sure she wasn't in a bad position or laying in a puddle of vomit or bleeding out her nose, and plead with her to be quiet and go back to sleep.

Sometimes I was angry and bitter. Sometimes my words and my tone were harsh, graceless.

I endured years of nights like this and days thick as mud and heavy as an 80-lb pack.

Looking back, I can see that this chronic exhaustion cloaked years of low-grade depression.

Very few people talk about the grief that parents of children with special needs experience. It is a cyclical thing, recurring every time their child experiences a setback or another child their age reaches a major milestone. Raising a child with special needs changes your life in countless ways. A simple trip to the grocery store is no longer simple. Priorities invert. Death lurks in your mind's corners, haunting every step.

My daughter's needs were significant. I didn't let myself step back and evaluate much -- I didn't have a spare moment or brain cell or ounce of energy for that. But once in awhile, it all became too much and I'd break down, often begging God to end it. I lived in fear that I would make a life-altering mistake. I lived in guilt that I could actually verbalize that I wished it over. I lived in dread of the day when it actually was over.

The weeks after she died, all those desperate moments when I begged him to take her slammed into me like a wrecking ball. Had I somehow wished this on us? On her? Was this my fault? Thus began the rapid downward spiral.

Today, almost two and a half years later, I've made peace with the circumstances surrounding her death. Most of my days are ok. But when the dark closes in, I always find guilt right behind, whispering half-truths about past sins, present battles, and the future unknown.

I feel like I'm in a cave, trying to climb straight up a rock to the sunlight, clinging to the barest of grips. I dig a toe into

"For there is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus."

Fingers claw at

"Now faith is confidence in what we hope for and assurance about what we do not see" and "In him we have redemption through his blood, the forgiveness of sins, in accordance with the riches of God’s grace that he lavished on us."

Sometimes all I can do is hang on to those until the dark recedes and my head clears. Then I remember that my daughter is whole now, and that neither my God nor my daughter holds these things against me any longer. I remember that Jesus moved toward Thomas when he expressed his need to see. And I know that God loves me in the midst of the dark and in the midst of my worst moments. I burn those truths into my heart for the next time I find myself clinging to the rock in a dark hole.

Joy is a writer, mother of four, wife, reader, follower of Christ, bereaved, asker, and lover of rich soil, good food, music, and sunshine, listener… in no particular order. Two of her children were born with serious congenital heart defects, including her first. It was quite an initiation to motherhood. Between the two of them, they've been through six open-heart surgeries and countless nights in the hospital. This writer learned to give shots, insert feeding tubes, run i.v. pumps, measure in mLs, and pronounce words like tracheomalacia. She's blogged since 2005, writing on faith and doubt, family life (which is always humorous even with the medical spin), grief, and the depression that she only recognized a year after our oldest died at the age of 8. You can read Joy's blog here and connect with her on Twitter here.

The Not Alone Book

Back in September of last year, I wrote a piece about my struggle with depression. It was mostly just a one-off, "I feel like garbage, let me whine to you," kind of thing. But the response touched my heart. And what I saw, in comments on my blog, Facebook, Twitter & email, was that people dealing with depression often feel isolated and they have a desire to know that they are not alone. This response was what encouraged me to start the Not Alone series. 
I have been absolutely overwhelmed by the posts that have been submitted to me by so many amazing people. It blew me away to see folks week after week share their stories about depression. Something that is often buried and ignored has been addressed by 12 different people here so far. I am deeply encouraged by those who have shared.
And because of that, I am thrilled (THRILLED!) to be able to share with you that I will be partnering with Civitas Press to turn the Not Alone series into a book this fall! 
Civitas Press is committed to community projects. Right now Civitas is finishing up work on the first project, called "The Practice of Love." I have been working with Jonathan Brink over the past few months and we are really excited about working on creating this place where our shared story combines to create community. It makes me ridiculously happy to think that the stories from these amazing contributors are going to be able to reach further than this blog. 
If you've been considering writing for the Not Alone series, I would love it if you would take a look at the project document on the Civitas website. Jonathan and I want to make this as easy for everyone as possible and we believe this document should accomplish that. If you don't have a story, I would appreciate it if you would consider sharing this with your friends who have experienced depression and may want to be a part of this project.
And finally, I want to thank this community so much for your support of both me and the authors who have shared their stories here. There's no book without you because there's no blog without you. And the reason this project matters so much to me is because you have shown me that I'm not alone and that has allowed us to extend that to so many more. You guys are awesome. For realsies.
Okay, so head over here and get to the sharing!

Never Alone, Never Unloved

Depression is a big, complicated mess that is different for everyone. I don't know how it affects others, so all I can do is tell you how it affected me.

I think that I was -- to some degree -- depressed as far back as my sophomore year of high school, but it was never "bad" enough for me to do anything about it. I used to think about suicide, not in a "I'm going to do it this weekend" sort of way, but with a slightly unhealthy academic interest. I remember wondering what the headmaster of my school would tell people. I remember wondering whether anyone would say that they saw it coming. But this morbidity passed and it didn't resurface until four years later, during college.

It started slowly. I stayed in my apartment more, and I wrote less.  I've always loved to watch television (my collection of TV on DVD borders on obsessive), but my TV watching habits became exactly that -- a habit. I didn't find joy in it anymore. I spent most of my time in my bed, curled under the covers. I ate less frequently, talked less frequently, snapped at my roommates more and more. I didn't sleep more -- I actually think I slept less. And I started crying, constantly, at the littlest things. It was like PMS, except 24 hours a day for a week straight.

photo © 2008 Demi-Brooke | more info (via: Wylio)
And then it would stop, and I'd be fine. I'd write a scene of my play and I'd go on an adventure and I'd think that the crying wasn't a big deal, because if I was depressed, wouldn't I feel sad ALL the time? Wouldn't I think about suicide ALL the time? So I didn't do anything. I didn't go to a doctor or talk to my roommates or call my mom, because I was ashamed.  Because everyone gets sad, don't they? And life is hard, isn't it? And whenever I tried to explain how I felt, it seemed like I was making a mountain out of a molehill -- that I was whining about nothing.

But the bad days were getting really, really bad. There were moments when I couldn't remember what "happy" felt like; moments where I thought that this was it, this was life, and there was no way to get better because this was just who I was. But one day, I just had enough.  I had been silent -- pissy-silent, which is how I get when I'm angry and I don't want to talk about it -- for days with my roommate and best friend. Suddenly I felt a weight on my heart, telling me to tell her how I was feeling. So I went to her and I started crying (of course) and for a brief instant I saw this look on her face, this look that seemed to say "this again?" And I told her I thought I was depressed and that I wanted to talk to someone about anti-depressants.

And she hugged me, and held my hand, and we went down to our school's counseling center (located conveniently in our dorm's building) and made an appointment.

And that was the beginning. I started going to see a wonderful, wonderful counselor, who gave me what I needed all along: confirmation that what I was feeling wasn't normal. She gave it a name (depression) and that was enough for me to start looking for a way to feel better. After wrestling with my parent's insurance, (which many mental health professionals don't take) I found a general practitioner who put me on some meds. I know many people don't agree with taking medication for depression, and that is entirely your right, but I honestly feel that I needed those little blue and grey pills to help pull me out of the black hole I was in.

And it did.  I have good days and bad days, but my good days significantly outweigh the bad and my bad days aren't nearly as awful as they once were. I'm no longer on my medication, which is a personal triumph for me, but I still have to be aware of my moods and I'm constantly on the look-out for warning signs that another depressive episode is beginning.

Saying that my episode was hard is a huge understatement. It was the largest period of suffering in my otherwise blessed life. In a weird way, however, I wouldn't trade it in for the world. My episode taught me a lot about trust and dependence -- on my family, on my friends and on God.

I remember in my first session with my therapist she seemed pleased when I was able to tell her how supportive and loving my family and friends are. She was pleased that I had faith and a higher power to devote my life to, because that meant I had the support of a church. One of the most important thing my episode taught me is that even when I was the most unpleasant person to be around, I was never alone and I was never unloved.

Laura is 22 years old.  She grew up in Massachusetts, moved to Chicago for college and is currently splitting her time between Chicago and Los Angeles.  She is graduating from college in May with a degree in Television Writing and Producing.  You can check out her blog at southpawlaura.blogspot.com. 

The Perfect Storm

I met Chad on Twitter a little while ago. He's a great, funny guy and I'm happy that we had the opportunity to connect. I'm so thankful to him for agreeing to write this post today. If you'd like to share your story, you can send me an email.

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It's been at least a couple of years now, but it seems just like yesterday: I had been working away on a piece of long form fiction. In my mind, it was vibrant, living, the characters weren't my creation, but real people. For this reason, though I'd never submitted before, I decided to query an agent. With little to no knowledge of the industry. (Looking back, I see that my query was a joke--it screamed "I'm nowhere near ready to be published!").

photo © 2008 Justin Taylor | more info (via: Wylio)

The letter (well, email) I got back wasn't harsh, or critical--it was kind in its own form-letter kind of way. In fact, it was the literary equivalent of the infamous "it's not you, it's me" break-up line. Only we were breaking up before even getting a chance to know each other. I put on a brave face, replied to the agency, thanked them for my first rejection letter. But honestly, it stung more than I was willing to admit. 

It would be disingenuous to call a 45-minute daily writing session a river of words--so let's call it a faucet, instead, shall we? Well, that faucet slowed to a trickle. Then dried up altogether. 

For some reason, I owned that rejection letter. The agency wasn't rejecting just my work, but me personally. And rejection was just something I was ill-equipped to handle. Coming from a broken home, with a very sarcastic, caustic, dad, I'd felt the sting of rejection all of my life.  That stupid form rejection letter put me in a tailspin, a funk so deep, that I was blocked. 

All of which lead me to reengage with some old familiar friends ("besetting sins") again. (Of which I shan't say anything here). Fortunately for me, God wasn't at all interested in leaving me in that place, and was faithful to clue my wife in. And I'm so thankful she drew her line in the sand, confronted me, loved me enough to not allow me to continue down a self-destructive path. This allowed some much-needed moments of clarity.

Those times when I was on a more even keel emotionally--akin to trying to balance solo on a teeter-totter--I became increasingly aware that I hadn't felt well physically in quite some time. I had been having night-time palpitations, bouts of nocturia, and according to my wife, apparent trouble breathing at night during sleep. 

So I scheduled a sleep study--which determined that I had sleep apnea (an airway obstruction which causes one's body to stop breathing during sleep; consequently, the body wakes itself up enough to start breathing again. The net result of which is one doesn't rest), for which I was prescribed an assistive breathing (CPAP) device. And for my palpitations, the doctor put me on Atenolol (a beta blocker). These seemed to work. I wasn't feeling great, but somewhat better, I guess.

But the Atenolol had a particular side-effect, which for someone of my--or any--age, was rather disconcerting. So back to the doctor I went. I even changed doctors. Had more extensive testing, including the glorious 24-hour urine collection (if this is on your list of things to do before Jesus returns, cross it off! I've done it, and it sucks!).

Turns out, my blood pressure was fine--but my Thyroid wasn't. All this time, I'd had undiagnosed Thyroid disease! 

It was the hypothyroidism that had precipitated my:

Sleep apnea

Heart palpitations

Wait gain

Lack of energy

And...

My depression

My own body chemistry worked against me, around the same time I got that rejection letter, to create a perfect storm of ick. Which took me tumbling down into the depths.

I'm still not 100%, but more in tune with my body, more aware of my symptoms. I still use a CPAP, and get about 5-6 hours of sleep per night. It may not be great rest, but thank God I'm alive! I will be on supplemental Thyroid hormone for the rest of my life. 

Thank-you for reading! May God bless you as you reach for healing and wholeness. You are not alone!

Chad Jones hails from Erie, PA, but has lived for over 30 years in the Arizona desert. He has been married to his wife, Lisa, for 20 years, and has two children, a boy and a girl. They being 12 and 4, respectively, keep their parents busy. Toughest job they've ever loved! Chad has always wanted to be a writer, so he started a blog in 2004, but didn't use it. He has been actively blogging at http://blog.randomlychad.com since last October. He would be happy if you would read his ramblings there. This is his first guest post ever, anywhere. Many thanks to Alise Wright for the opportunity! Remember: You. Are. Not. Alone!

Whirlpools

"Samurai" is one of my oldest blogging friends and I am so thankful to him for his willingness to share his struggles over here today. If you would like to contribute to the Not Alone series with your story, feel free to send me an email.


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Where to begin? I have mentioned this before but I will do so again... if for nothing else to help myself work through it.

I have really been struggling with depression lately. I have never been able to "get it". Meaning, I am not able to understand how or why people get depressed. I am even more confused as to why I am getting depressed.

I am not taking any sort of superiority train of thought here. On many levels depression is a selfish thing. The mind gets locked on to me/myself/I, all of the things that are not right in my life. Why am I not able to _____? Etc. The causes can be multifaceted. For some it may be poor mental choices, another things one dwells on, in others it is a side effect of medication or injury. Some can be chemical, that is imbalances within the construct of the body's systems. All of them are treatable, and none of them should be ignored.

To tell oneself to just "shake it off", or to advise someone who is experiencing it to just "get over it" is unhelpful at best, and devastating at its worst. Depression is something that is like a whirlpool. The process is slow and almost imperceptible in the beginning, but as it progresses it picks up speed and gets tighter and tighter as it pulls you down. The longer one does nothing about the predicament the harder it takes hold and the harder it is to escape... especially without outside assistance.photo © 2009 David O'Hare | more info (via: Wylio)
I am not entirely sure how long I struggled with depression before I finally sought some help. One person says that they noticed a "cyclical" pattern for as long as two years. For me the "trigger" that pushed it over the edge of manageability was when my beloved went back to work this past summer.

I grew up, for the most part, with a single mother who was rarely at home. This left me and my brother alone most of the time to fend for ourselves. As a young man I steeled myself to the task. It was what it was and I didn’t really know any better. I did the best I could to do the chores around the house, fed me and my brother (and he pitched in some too, it was not all me). I remember learning to do laundry and make mac & cheese, etc. When my beloved went back out into the outside workforce (as opposed to being a stay at home wife and mother), and she was not always home, I began to have an overwhelming sense of abandonment. I felt like I was losing her and there was nothing I could do about it.

The fact was, there was nothing my beloved was doing intentionally to make me feel this way. As a matter of fact, she bent over backwards to assure me, to comfort me, to let me know that she was indeed my beloved. For her, this job was in many ways a "life saver" for her too. It has renewed her sense of purpose now that our three darlings are older. It has been one of the better things to come along for her.

What was hard was I know all this... and yet I could not change the way my own body reacted. I would pray (and still do), and I would "preach" to myself these facts, but I just couldn't shake the bodily reactions and mental thought pathways. I knew i was not thinking clearly, and my attempts to talk with my beloved were causing her distress. One of our long time friends reached out to me... but for a variety of reasons I did not feel that was a good idea. I finally reached out to a Christian man whom I respected, and who was also a licensed therapist. While he felt it better to not counsel me himself, he did get me with another man of God who was very helpful. For me, my dose of Strattera has not only has helped me with my ADD, but it has helped with my rounds of depression.

I can tell I am still struggling with the "cycles" now and again, but just like me working out my own sanctification, I am working to stay "on top of" my own depression.

Samurai a Christian with a diverse array of interests... Part time science fiction writer (never published), The Carolina Panthers (American professional football), Necromunda (sci-fi tabletop wargame), Shadowrun (a cyberpunk - fantasy RPG), and he is deeply in love with his beloved wife of 18 years. You can read more of his writing at Samurai's Dojo.

Not Just a Girl

photo © 2009 Tafari Anthony | more info (via: Wylio)

I'm not an overly emotional 13 year old girl (at least not anymore).

What do you think of, when you hear that someone is writing about their depression? Exactly that; the over emotional teen who thinks no one understands her and no one knows the pain she goes through. Writing out her worries and concerns to the internet, because no one else cares.

When I write about my depression, it isn't because I believe no one understands me, or because no one knows the pain I go through. That is not why I do it. I write simply because it makes me feel good, and in some small way I want to be able to help someone.

Once upon a time I was an overly emotional 13 year old girl. I am going to date myself slightly, but when I was 13 the internet was not what it is today, and there was no outlet for me to cry out to...at least not in the way blogs and online journals are there today. I did keep a journal, however, and in many ways I'm glad I didn't post those thoughts publicly, because they were dark, unhappy, and not something I should be sharing.

A few times, however, I did try to share my thoughts with people. There were a few "mentors," women I really looked up to when I was a teen. They were great sounding blocks, but there was one thing in common with all of them. They brushed my feelings off. Oh, I don't mean they didn't care, far from it. They cared very much for me. They would listen, and nod understandingly, but at the end of the conversation, the outcome was always the same. Whether they said it or not, I now realize that they were simply writing me off as an over emotional 13, 14, 15 year old girl.

I remember one time I read an article in a teen magazine that talked about depression. It had one of those quizes at the end where you check off symptoms, and if you have 3 or more, you may be depressed and should talk to your doctor. I had several of those symptoms, at the time. The typical depression symptoms. Trouble sleeping, lack of interest in activities that used to give you pleasure, weight gain or loss, loss of appetite, etc. However, when I brought this up to a mentor of mine, I was told that those types of articles make everyone feel like they are depressed, and that it didn't mean anything.

I spent years depressed, off and on, and had no idea. These things that were told to me in middle school and early high school stuck with me, and I pushed the thought that I may be depressed aside. Now that I look back on it and realize what was happening, I'm shocked and upset, but mostly angry. Angry because I could have fixed this sooner. I didn't have to wait 7 years before I went on medication, or tried to treat my depression on my own.

I guess this is what I want people to know; this is why I write. I want everyone, no matter their age, to know about depression. To know it is not a shameful thing, that it really exists. I want them to listen to their hearts, and not take the advice of misleading but well-meaning friends or mentors. I want them to know they are not alone.

Megg writes the blog The Life of a not so Desperate Housewife. She is an aspiring librarian, working as an office assistant. When she isn't struggling with depression she loves to read, write, watch old TV shows long off the air and cuddle with her cats. She lives in Seattle with her husband, Geoff and two cats.