Depression is a convincing liar. Here is how to navigate the darkness and find the light of stability.
I struggled for months with a bipolar depression that smothered me. It felt like suffocation. The heaviness seemed to affect even my breathing: I had to consciously labor for each breath.
It felt as if someone had just flipped the light switch off, and my mind and body were plunged into complete darkness.
I know this seems hard to imagine for a person who hasn’t been through something like this. From the outside, it may not seem clear why more willpower or self-discipline isn’t enough to pull oneself out of this state.
My internal dialogue became extremely negative. I wasn’t able to work, so I must be worthless. At least that’s what my thoughts told me.
The more my mind raced with negative thoughts, the more my depression worsened. Here are some things I’d like my friends and family members to know so they can better understand.
The Lies Depression Tells Us
“Depression is a liar.” I’ve heard this so many times. I believe it’s absolutely true. But depression is a very convincing liar.
It was such a convincing liar that I started to believe what it told me:
- That I didn’t deserve my friends or family
- That I didn’t deserve to be loved
- That I didn’t deserve happiness
Believing the lies depression tells you is incredibly dangerous. If another person were struggling, I believe I would find compassion and empathy for them. But I couldn’t do so for myself.
Practicing Self-Compassion During Depression
A depressive episode is one of the times when being a perfectionist isn’t helpful. Being hard on myself and having a “just buck up” attitude does more harm than good.
I brushed off people’s advice to take it easy on myself. To be kind. To be gentle. My self-talk insisted: I shouldn’t go easy on myself. That’s how I succeed. That’s how I survived this long.
During this depression, I wasn’t as kind to others, either. I’m generally a very patient person. Calm and fun-loving. Instead, I was irritable, quick-tempered, and self-isolating.
Those changes in my behavior caused me even more distress and self-criticism. They were such a stark contrast to my usual personality that it sometimes frightened me. I’ve come to realize that those traits were part of my depression symptoms and that I wasn’t becoming an awful person.
Recognizing the Return of Stability
After drowning in the lies of depression, believing in my hopelessness, worthlessness, and overall failure as a person, something changed. My doctor adjusted my medication dosages. I continued treatment. My depression eased.
To me, it was like the lights just turned back on. It was just that sudden. Lightness. The suffocating feeling lifted. Thoughts of self-harm vanished. I saw the lies depression was telling me… and I no longer listened.
Stability — for me — meant being able to genuinely laugh again and sleep again. It meant:
- No more crying
- No more suicidal thinking
- Readjusting to a healthier diet
- Working my way through the loads and loads of laundry I had been unable to do for so long
Rebuilding After a Depressive Episode
Financial wreckage and job loss were more daunting to deal with. But with the depression behind me, even the most damaged parts of my life seemed reparable.
My hope for the future is that I’ll always have those people who will never give up on me. Who come over and hug me, even if I haven’t showered for days. Who speak the truth and warn me of how depression deceives.
I hope that I am gentler and kinder to myself. That I keep persevering. That I remember that the light does come back. That I will be able to breathe again.
UPDATED: Originally printed as “On My Mind: When the Lights Go Out,” Summer 2020