i used to get depressed. once in a while.

when i say depressed, i don’t mean the severe kind in which one is too overtaken by the loss of reason to live and too unenthusiastic to go on that they do not look after themselves and their family, or they don’t meet their responsibilities, and eventually attempt to take their lives to end the meaninglessness of it all. i don’t mean that, i only mean the kind of sadness that goes deeper than the usual loneliness. sometimes, way deeper.

i would have this heavy feeling of blah that made me feel like a real loser. i would look at other people who were happy and i would curse my bad luck for being so unlike them. i would then hide in my imaginary hole, sulk, read a book, and when all else fail, write about how crappy my universe was.

i have learned that the reasons why i got depressed were always because i found it absolutely pathetic that i had nobody to share my life with when i was so ready to have that kind of relationship. or, that my family was this dysfunctional family, who unconsciously did and said things that tore my heart to pieces on some occasions.

the whole process usually took a few hours of my day, not very often. after identifying the emotional trigger events that caused me to feel alone, and basking in the feeling for some time, in no time, before i even knew it, i was ready to be my bubbly self again. like nothing happened.

six years ago, when i got pregnant for the first time, the ambivalent feelings of joy and fear crept up on me and caused a different kind of depression. the kind of depression that usually did not have any logical basis.

i coped by reasoning that other than the hormones skyrocketing, it was also because of the big life changes that happened to me all at once. i moved here, got married, got pregnant, was not working, had to take the nclex, was not driving, had very little social contacts, was literally alone while waiting for my husband from work. it all happened in five months. we’re talking major life stress units here, so i didn’t even worry about it.

after i passed the nclex, got a job, had my two kids, learned to drive, i expected things to get back to how they were. i do not think occasional loneliness is such a bad thing, so i welcomed the idea of being depressed once in a while, like i used to. i thought i can use it as a time to ponder on things that i should be grateful for and somehow, just like the good old days, in some bizarre ways, it will eventually make me realize i am blessed.

but that’s not what happened. month after month after month, i would cave into this undescribable sense of emotional hopelessness that got deeper and deeper. the feelings of blah turned into a more serious feeling of nothingness that made me feel way beyond a loser.

i would have thoughts of my life being pointless and i would mull over the idea of all people being better off dead than suffering in the hospital or in a war or something. i would wake up unenergized and without purpose. i would drag myself to whatever it was i was expected to do, and would not find any satisfaction or accomplishment despite the hard work i’ve put out. i would look at my husband and my kids and miss the joy that normally overwhelms me just by having them in my life. i would hang out with family and friends and amidst laughters, i would miss out on the fun, feeling alone, like standing outside, uninvited, desperately looking in.

i would walk, breathe, live aimlessly and worthlessly behind a fog that lasted two or three days every month. unused to this helpless state, it boggled and scared me that i was such a mess. my attempts to seriously talk about it usually turned into self retraction, because most people thought i was either exagerrating or joking.

when i finally had the sense to analyze the pattern and regularity of my misery, it dawned on me that i didn’t have to be a rocket scientist to figure out that this has something to do with my hormones. i self diagnosed it to be related to hormonal changes when i am ovulating or when i am about to have my period.

although it is true that knowledge is power, it is not enough to win the battle.  i still found the whole ordeal tiring and draining, that i just wished i knew what to do and how to do it just to fix myself. i have nothing about seeing a doctor for depression but unfortunately, i am one of those stubborn human beings who would like to try to fix it first before asking a professional for help.

i read on the topic, then i developed a plan. i wanted to talk about it to people, especially women. i wanted people, especially women, to talk to me about it. i thought we can learn from each other, then we can encourage each other. i used to think i am all alone in this and that i should be ashamed to talk about it because nobody else feels this way, but the the books and articles on this topic proved me wrong. i wanted to break the ice and heal, then share the process with others.

the only set back is, inside my immediate personal community circle, depression, christianity, and being a filipino (and i am saying this based on my personal experience, not in any way generalizing all christians and filipinos) do not really mix that well.

what i mean when i say that is, coming from the philippines, which is a third world country, people automatically think you really have to be messed up to be depressed. with a lot of people struggling where to get their next meal, what is there to be sad about when you can have way beyond your basic needs?

and when you are a supposed devout christian, there is no way you can get depressed if you just lift your heart in prayer, and believe, in faith, that Jesus will grant you real joy and peace.

again, i am not saying all christians and all filipinos feel this way about people who get depressed, but i have met a lot of us who brush depression aside like some pesky, unreal, narcissistic dilemma that doesn’t need to be addressed, or even discussed.

if you ask me, this is a very sad thing. it is a very sad thing when those who you think are closest to you are the ones who do not want to take you seriously.

i do see the logic in looking at depression this way, because i know how irrelevant my woes are compared to the ones who really have reasons to mourn, but that doesn’t mean that what i am feeling is unreal. i also believe and have experienced being spiritually lifted with a “peace that passeth understanding” by prayer and meditation, but that doesn’t mean that if i do not experience that healing right away or all the time, my feelings need to be dismissed.

i have strong feelings against people bashing depressed people because i know exactly what depressed people are going through. i only experience it two or three days each month, but those days are the most miserable days of my life, that every happy moments i’ve experienced usually gets blurred in the background.  can you imagine going through it everyday? every. single. day. aimlessly walking through a fog. everyday.

i guess the whole point of this very long post is to beg those who treat depressed people in a very condescending “just get over it and move on already” kind of way to please just be tolerant enough if you can’t be kind to be supportive. i understand it is difficult to empathize when you have not experienced the same thing, but it doesn’t take much effort to at least be open to what depressed people are saying. depression already hurts as it is, and dismissing its reality magnifies the pain to the point of shame.

dealing with depression of any kind or magnitude is a process. a lifetime process. even if that doesn’t sink in, that doesn’t change the truth that it is the fact.

as it is, there are wars, disasters, crime, poverty and hunger going on in so many parts of the world that there is really no reason for us to significantly add more to the suffering of individuals who deal with depression on a day to day basis.

there is no reason why there should be an unspoken environment of animosity and hostility towards those who suffer in silence. or those who dare to speak out only to be silenced.