How I Explained My Depression to My Parents
When I was 16 years old I was in the trenches of an abusive relationship and slipped into the deepest, darkest, and longest depression I have ever experienced. I remember going through the motions of the school day and then coming home and crawling into bed, exhausted, until my mom woke me up for dinner. I’d drag myself out of bed and force myself to eat something, as to not raise any alarm with my parents- although my appetite was non-existent. Again, once the motions of mealtime were completed, I’d curl back up in my bed. The room now dark with the fading sun. My soul dreading the inevitable rise of sunlight.
Growing up in my family, mental health wasn’t talked about. It wasn’t that it was a taboo subject, it just wasn’t something that we felt we needed to discuss. It simply wasn’t on our minds. We didn’t learn about it in school and at that time people outside our family rarely spoke about it either. “Depression” and “anxiety” were not words that floated around my house as a child. My parents didn’t struggle with mental illness (or didn’t believe they did), and at the time were completely uninformed of depression and its symptoms. Thus, when I started to experience the depth of my own depression, I had no idea how to share this with my parents and reach out for help. I felt like I didn’t have the words to describe the suffering I felt. I also struggled to understand how they couldn’t notice my remarkably diminished mood, motivation, and behavior. I stayed quiet for many months until one day I couldn’t battle it alone any longer. I decided I was going to write my parents a letter.
At the time I didn’t know about the diagnosis Major Depressive Disorder. I didn’t know the symptoms or really anything about the mental illness. What I did know was how lonely and isolating it was to go through what I was going through without anyone knowing, or better yet, understanding. How do I explain depression to someone who hasn’t experienced it themselves? I decided to just put the pen to paper and write freely, in hopes my words could shed even an ounce of light into the darkness of my heart.
Depression feels like there is a giant gaping pit inside of you. The pit is like a pitch-black, never-ending hole. It feels like you’re filled with darkness; the only color describing your mood being black. It feels like your heart has numbed over and you’re left with only emptiness inside you. What’s odd though, is although you often feel nothing, that nothing is also incredibly painful.
Depression feels like your body is stuck in quicksand. Everything all of a sudden is too much effort. The thought of crawling out of bed alone feels like too much. Your legs and arms feel heavy and weak. Your movements feel slow and exhausting. The idea of getting out of bed, showering, and putting on new clothes in the morning feels equivalent to climbing Mount Everest. Your energy has dwindled to nothing. All you want to do- all you can do- is sleep all day, yet no matter how much you sleep the exhaustion is relentless. The thought of going to school or work all day brings a dread so overwhelming your brain makes you believe being dead is a better option. When your alarm goes off in the morning the first thought that crosses your mind is “I can’t do this again.” When you drive to work the thought of simply drifting into an oncoming lane flashes in your mind. Or maybe, you reason, you can simply get into a car accident that doesn’t actually end your life, but just hospitalizes you long enough to remove you from your responsibilities and let you rest.
Your brain feels fogged and no matter how hard you focus on something, you can’t get the fog to clear. You sit in your work meeting and although your boss is going over something you should know everything about, their words don’t seem to penetrate your brain. It’s like your brain is iced over, their words nothing more than a background hum. Your body is heavy, your eyes are tired, you just want to go home and lay down.
Depression is a feeling of hopelessness so strong you can’t imagine ever feeling any better again. The things you once enjoyed no longer bring you excitement or happiness. Everything is boring and dull. The thought of going out and seeing friends starts to feel like torture. You feel a consistent sadness weighing on your chest, although you cannot pinpoint what is causing it. Your brain becomes your biggest enemy, berating you with thoughts of worthlessness. Tears swell in your eyes frequently and the urge to curl up and sob are a common occurrence. The only thing that sounds like relief is isolating yourself from everyone around you, but even that doesn’t subdue the pain. Everything is just too much.
The frustrating thing about depression, or the psychiatric diagnosis Major Depressive Disorder, is that there isn’t always an identified cause. How can we justify how much pain we’re in if we can’t understand why were feeling this way? I can’t tell you the number of times as a therapist I’ve heard loved ones discount my client’s depression, stating things like “they can’t be depressed, they have nothing to be depressed about!” It’s responses like these that create shame and guilt and strengthen society’s stigma around mental illness.
Depression resulting from trauma, stressors, hardship or grief are definitely real, common occurrences. Depression caused by the chemicals and neurotransmitters in your brain, however, are just as real, valid, and frequent. You do not need to have an explanation or justification for why you’re feeling this way. Take for example, just a few of the many things that can cause depression:
Genetics and biology
Chronic stress
Losses and trauma early in life
Thyroid hormone imbalances
Nutritional deficiencies
Certain medications
Chronic pain
Functioning of the nerve circuits in your brain
Nerve cell connections and growth
A reduced hippocampus size
Suppression of new neurons in the brain
Reduced dopamine, norepinephrine, and serotonin chemicals
After I wrote my parents the letter, they immediately jumped into action getting me the help I so desperately needed. Although they couldn’t fully understand what I was going through, I didn’t expect them to and I also didn’t need them to. What I needed was to be heard and taken seriously. They did just that. That same day my parents called and got me into one of the best therapists in town. I saw her two times a week for well over a year. I was also put on an antidepressant and regularly followed up with a psychiatrist. My parents were so appreciative I gathered the courage to write them that letter. Actually, to this day, more than ten years later, my parents still have that letter and I am so grateful I wrote it. I don’t know where I’d be today (or even if I’d be here today) if I didn’t decide to take the scary step of trying to explain what I was going through. From that point forward, my parents have taken it upon themselves to learn about depression and mental illness. Knowledge is power and support is essential for depression. I now have a support system where talking about mental health and emotions is not only accepted, but encouraged. There is no shame in struggling. There is no weakness in having depression. It is not our fault and we are not alone. There is such a immense strength in being vulnerable and transparent with the ones we love. We cannot, and should not, do this alone.
