Depression: Why Talking Isn’t Enough

Depression: Why Talking Isn't Enough

Talking about mental illness openly is an important step towards ridding humanity of a stigma that’s breathtaking in its ignorance and dangerous in its effect. But something more needs to happen.

The mental illness umbrella has a broad reach and the disorders that fall beneath it are as diverse as the people affected by them. Some disorders, such as anxiety and depression, lie on a spectrum of normal human behavior and it’s likely that most of us, if not all of us, have teetered somewhere within its reach.

The depth and breadth of the mental illness tag means that an illness such as depression, which is not dangerous to anyone but the sufferer, is being bundled with disorders that are. This continues to feed a stigma that pathologises not only the illness, but also the person. It has implications for all of us.

A formal diagnosis of clinical depression requires the presence of a cluster of symptoms over an extended period. The symptoms are characteristic of normal human experience – sadness, hopelessness, lack of vitality, lack of engagement, disordered sleeping and eating patterns. Each is a normal and valid human response though sometimes, the duration and intensity can become too much and this is when a diagnosis of clinical depression may follow.

I’ve never had clinical depression, but I’ve experienced sadness so deep and engulfing it stole me for a while. I can still remember the ache. I’ve felt desperately hopeless at times and on others frighteningly disengaged. I don’t know how it was that I found my way through. I just did. I also know, with every cell in my body that it could just as easily have gone the other way.

Depression is a deficiency in chemistry, not character. It can happen to anyone. Though it is true that some personality traits make people vulnerable to depression, those same traits also make those people warm, successful, wise, funny, kind, capable and strong. The strength needed to carry on each day with a mental illness is immense.

There is absolutely no evidence – none – that depression causes people to be dangerous or harmful. It’s true that many who have behaved anti-socially have depression, but they also have skin, parents, possibly a mortgage, a job, children. It’s a numbers game and the number of people who suffer from depression is so high, and its reach to exceptionally wide, that people with depression are going to be represented on some level in vile, criminal acts. Doctors and teachers will also be represented. So will diabetics, mothers and taxi drivers. That depression is sometimes represented in the profile of the anti-social does not mean it’s the cause and to suggest otherwise is spectacularly misinformed.

The need to understand and make sense of the world around us is something that has lead humanity to greatness on many fronts. It is our curiosity and our capacity to extend ourselves to satisfy that curiosity that progresses our relationships, society and humanity. It can also be our downfall.

Some things can’t be explained. For all of our collected wisdom, empathy and intelligence, some things just don’t make sense, and they never will. The drive for closure and for understanding means that society has a tendency to reach for anything to fill the knowledge gap. The easiest ‘anything’ will be that which we understand the least. When it comes to unfathomable human behavior, it’s often whatever mental illness diagnosis is within reach. This not only maintains the stigma, it flourishes it.

Talking about mental illness is important, but in order to destigmatise it, we need to demystify it. Depression can be understood as another adaptive process – a normal response to an often abnormal situation. We all have needs we cannot give up – the need for connection, appreciation and belonging are a few. If the need is not met, attempts will be made to let it go, ignore it or have it met elsewhere. If the need remains important, and the environment unsupportive, the need will be ignored but it will never disappear. The best way to ignore something is to push it well out of the way – to, quite literally, depress it.

The more we stigmatise depression, the more we inadvertently encourage this response. We stop talking. We stop normalising. We stop responding. Isolation, shame and disconnection thrive. The more we grab onto depression to explain the inexplicable, the more we encourage people to ‘depress’ and to keep quiet about their own struggles. The very thing we are fighting, we will force.

As long as we view depression as a maladaptive response, rather than embrace it as existing on the spectrum of a normal one, people will continue to depress. It’s no wonder then that depression is on the rise. We can only speculate as to how different the statistics would be if we were a humanity that embraced emotional vulnerability, rather than pathologised it. The capacity is there, just waiting on the will.

When we accept depression for what it is – a normal part of being human, perhaps then the stigma will start to loosen.

This article appeared on The Huffington Post UK on 1 April 2015. 

(Image Credit: Unsplash | Ravi Roshen)

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We don’t need to protect kids from the discomfort of anxiety.

We’ll want to, but as long as they’re safe (including in their bodies with sensory and physiological needs met), we don’t need to - any more than we need to protect them from the discomfort of seatbelts, bike helmets, boundaries, brushing their teeth.

Courage isn’t an absence of anxiety. It’s the anxiety that makes something brave. Courage is about handling the discomfort of anxiety.

When we hold them back from anxiety, we hold them back - from growth, from discovery, and from building their bravery muscles.

The distress and discomfort that come with anxiety won’t hurt them. What hurts them is the same thing that hurts all of us - feeling alone in distress. So this is what we will protect them from - not the anxiety, but feeling alone in it.

To do this, speak to the anxiety AND the courage. 

This will also help them feel safer with their anxiety. It puts a story of brave to it rather than a story of deficiency (‘I feel like this because there’s something wrong with me,’) or a story of disaster (‘I feel like this because something bad is about to happen.’).

Normalise, see them, and let them feel you with them. This might sound something like:

‘This feels big doesn’t it. Of course you feel anxious. You’re doing something big/ brave/ important, and that’s how brave feels. It feels scary, stressful, big. It feels like anxiety. It feels like you feel right now. I know you can handle this. We’ll handle it together.’

It doesn’t matter how well they handle it and it doesn’t matter how big the brave thing is. The edges are where the edges are, and anxiety means they are expanding those edges.

We don’t get strong by lifting toothpicks. We get strong by lifting as much as we can, and then a little bit more for a little bit longer. And we do this again and again, until that feels okay. Then we go a little bit further. Brave builds the same way - one brave step after another.

It doesn’t matter how long it takes and it doesn’t matter how big the steps are. If they’ve handled the discomfort of anxiety for a teeny while today, then they’ve been brave today. And tomorrow we’ll go again again.♥️
Feeling seen, safe, and cared for is a biological need. It’s not a choice and it’s not pandering. It’s a biological need.

Children - all of us - will prioritise relational safety over everything. 

When children feel seen, safe, and a sense of belonging they will spend less resources in fight, flight, or withdrawal, and will be free to divert those resources into learning, making thoughtful choices, engaging in ways that can grow them.

They will also be more likely to spend resources seeking out those people (their trusted adults at school) or places (school) that make them feel good about themselves, rather than avoiding the people of spaces that make them feel rubbish or inadequate.

Behaviour support and learning support is about felt safety support first. 

The schools and educators who know this and practice it are making a profound difference, not just for young people but for all of us. They are actively engaging in crime prevention, mental illness prevention, and nurturing strong, beautiful little people into strong, beautiful big ones.♥️
Emotion is e-motion. Energy in motion.

When emotions happen, we have two options: express or depress. That’s it. They’re the options.

When your young person (or you) is being swamped by big feelings, let the feelings come.

Hold the boundary around behaviour - keep them physically safe and let them feel their relationship with you is safe, but you don’t need to fix their feelings.

They aren’t a sign of breakage. They’re a sign your child is catalysing the energy. Our job over the next many years is to help them do this respectfully.

When emotional energy is shut down, it doesn’t disappear. It gets held in the body and will come out sideways in response to seemingly benign things, or it will drive distraction behaviours (such as addiction, numbness).

Sometimes there’ll be a need for them to control that energy so they can do what they need to do - go to school, take the sports field, do the exam - but the more we can make way for expression either in the moment or later, the safer and softer they’ll feel in their minds and bodies.

Expression is the most important part of moving through any feeling. This might look like talking, moving, crying, writing, yelling.

This is why you might see big feelings after school. It’s often a sign that they’ve been controlling themselves all day - through the feelings that come with learning new things, being quiet and still, trying to get along with everyone, not having the power and influence they need (that we all need). When they get into the car at pickup, finally those feelings they’ve been holding on to have a safe place to show up and move through them and out of them.

It can be so messy! It takes time to learn how to lasso feelings and words into something unmessy.

In the meantime, our job is to hold a tender, strong, safe place for that emotional energy to move out of them.

Hold the boundary around behaviour where you can, add warmth where you can, and when they are calm talk about what happened and how they might do things differently next time. And be patient. Just because someone tells us how to swing a racket, doesn’t mean we’ll win Wimbledon tomorrow. Good things take time, and loads of practice.♥️
Thank you Adelaide! Thank you for your stories, your warmth, for laughing with me, spaghetti bodying with me (when you know, you know), for letting me scribble on your books, and most of all, for letting me be a part of your world today.

So proud to share the stage with Steve Biddulph, @matt.runnalls ,
@michellemitchell.author, and @nathandubsywant. To @sharonwittauthor - thank you for creating this beautiful, brave space for families to come together and grow stronger.

And to the parents, carers, grandparents - you are extraordinary and it’s a privilege to share the space with you. 

Parenting is big work. Tender, gritty, beautiful, hard. It asks everything of us - our strength, our softness, our growth. We’re raising beautiful little people into beautiful big people, and at the same time, we’re growing ourselves. 

Sometimes that growth feels impatient and demanding - like we’re being wrenched forward before we’re ready, before our feet have found the ground. 

But that’s the nature of growth isn’t it. It rarely waits for permission. It asks only that we keep moving.

And that’s okay. 

There’s no rush. You have time. We have time.

In the meantime they will keep growing us, these little humans of ours. Quietly, daily, deeply. They will grow us in the most profound ways if we let them. And we must let them - for their sake, for our own, and for the ancestral threads that tie us to the generations that came before us, and those that will come because of us. We will grow for them and because of them.♥️
Their words might be messy, angry, sad. They might sound bigger than the issue, or as though they aren’t about the issue at all. 

The words are the warning lights on the dashboard. They’re the signal that something is wrong, but they won’t always tell us exactly what that ‘something’ is. Responding only to the words is like noticing the light without noticing the problem.

Our job isn’t to respond to their words, but to respond to the feelings and the need behind the words.

First though, we need to understand what the words are signalling. This won’t always be obvious and it certainly won’t always be easy. 

At first the signal might be blurry, or too bright, or too loud, or not obvious.

Unless we really understand the problem behind signal - the why behind words - we might inadvertently respond to what we think the problem is, not what the problem actually is. 

Words can be hard and messy, and when they are fuelled by big feelings that can jet from us with full force. It is this way for all of us. 

Talking helps catalyse the emotion, and (eventually) bring the problem into a clearer view.

But someone needs to listen to the talking. You won’t always be able to do this - you’re human too - but when you can, it will be one of the most powerful ways to love them through their storms.

If the words are disrespectful, try:

‘I want to hear you but I love you too much to let you think it’s okay to speak like that. Do you want to try it a different way?’ 

Expectations, with support. Leadership, with warmth. Then, let them talk.

Our job isn’t to fix them - they aren’t broken. Our job is to understand them so we can help them feel seen, safe, and supported through the big of it all. When we do this, we give them what they need to find their way through.♥️

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