Who Is My Depression?
One of my teen-aged children taught me a valuable lesson about mental illness. We were together in a counselling session. As we often do when discussing all sorts of illnesses, the counsellor had been using metaphors of conflict. We “fight” a cold, we “battle” cancer; and similarly, the counsellor, in an effort to motivate my teen, was asking them to “confront” and “combat” the anxiety that was severely limiting their growth and enjoyment of life.
“I don’t like to think of my anxiety as an enemy,” my teen said.
The counsellor was surprised. “How do you think of it then?”
“I think of it as a little child that needs comforting.”
That simple comment from the fifteen-year-old I had brought to the counselling center for a dose of adult wisdom, opened up a whole new perspective for me. Mind you, I don’t want to discount the trauma and fatigue of those who feel like they’ve been engaged in front-line warfare with their own or a loved one’s illness for months or years on end. Or downplay the importance of disputing irrational thoughts and challenging yourself to move ahead in spite of fear or despair. But it is possible to simultaneously comfort and challenge a frightened child. Aggression is not an effective way to do either.
To paraphrase another one of my children: you’re going to be living with your mental illness for a long time. It will be easier if you are on speaking terms with it.
I attend church meetings weekly and participate in what we call the sacrament, analogous to holy communion in other Christian denominations. A few years ago, I decided to use that sacred time of introspection to ask God, “What can I do better next week?” I expected to get answers like, “Pray more earnestly,” or “Reach out and help someone in need.” Most weeks, though, I was filled with a poignant awareness of my own vulnerability and felt the loving message, “Be good to yourself, Annette.”
It felt like being wrapped in a warm, secure hug from my Father in Heaven. I will never outgrow the need for a father’s embrace.