Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker climaxes when just a handful of rebels prepare to go to battle against the limitless dark forces of the First Order. In an effort to instill hope to his downtrodden comrades, Poe Dameron offers these encouraging words: "The First Order wins by making us think we're alone. We're not alone."
I've recently experienced some feelings of depression. Depression is something I think I've battled throughout my life, but I've rarely called it what it is. I've never been to a therapist, I've never been diagnosed with any kind of disorder, but there are definite periods of unexplained sadness that can occasionally slump into absolute despair. It cycles through every season, but seems to be intensified by the cold, dark months of January and February. Most of the time, I describe it as "a funk". I know it's temporary and I know I'll come out of it. But when it gets really bad, it's hard to see the beginning or the end. It's hard to remember ever feeling truly happy and it's even harder to see my way out the other side. I begin to believe that I've always been depressed, that even when I may have felt fine, there was always underlying darkness, an emotional guard that keeps me from feeling any real joy. When I feel these dark and heavy emotions, I often attribute them to fatigue. I haven't been sleeping well. I've been staying up too late or getting up too early. Or maybe it's PMS or other hormonal imbalances. Just part of being a woman. But as the sadness lingers, I begin to look for more substantial reasons to feel so sad. I wonder if I'm living up to my potential. I wonder what my purpose in life really is. I feel unfulfilled and undesirable as an individual. I start to feel sorry for myself. I begin to believe that everything I do is for my husband and kids and community. I have forgotten who I really am. I don't even know what my interests or likes or preferences are. I just do what others want me to do. I have lost my identity. If I had a day to do whatever I wanted to do, I don't even know what that would be. I would just sleep. Sleep is all I really want to do anymore. The downward spiral continues. Feeling sad, looking for the cause, finding and believing the reasons that make me feel worse and so on.
Two weeks ago, I went to church in the above state of mind. As I was hanging my coat up in the foyer, I saw a dear friend who asked me how I was doing and offered a hug. I lied. Said I was fine. Then started to cry. Like the true friend that she is, she assured me I was not fine. And that it's okay to not be okay. I wiped my tears and walked to the organ to play prelude music. I willed the tears back into my eyes, but they wouldn't stay. I played the opening and sacrament hymns and then made my way to the ladies' room to blow my nose. In the foyer, I found someone to talk to. It took my mind off the sadness. I returned to the chapel to play the closing hymn, then found someone else to talk to in the foyer during Sunday school. Focusing on others helped me keep my mind off my own pain.
The darkness lingered throughout the week. By Thursday, I finally called and left a message with a recommended therapist. Friday morning, I felt like if I held it in any longer, I would implode. I took a walk with Justin around the snow-frosted lake. I told him I was struggling. I clumsily tried to express to him what I was feeling. I barked out ugly, snotty sobs. Sometimes I worry that talking about my sadness will negatively affect others. I don't want to be a downer Debbie. I want to lift others up. I want to be adventurous and fun-loving. I don't feel very fun lately. People don't want to be around me. Why should they? I'm kind of a drag. But talking to Justin helped. It felt good to talk. I wanted to talk some more.
As we were walking, Justin mentioned something about how these feelings of sadness might help me understand and have compassion for others who feel similar feelings. With that thought in mind, I reluctantly posted something on Facebook about my recent depression and offered encouragement to anyone else who might also be struggling. "The darkness wins by making us think we're alone. We're not alone."
The response to my pathetic post was overwhelming. At first, I was embarrassed and thought I might look dramatic or ungrateful posting my tear-stained face on social media. I am well-aware that others have far better reasons to feel sad. I know my life is terribly cushy. I have no business feeling sorry for myself. I know that. But the friends who responded to my pity party were not judgmental or condemning. I got nothing but love. Private messages and public posts poured in. Spontaneous hugs popped up in unexpected places. I went to lunch with a group of friends who shared their own experiences with dark feelings and heavy emotions. I felt such camaraderie and validation coming from every direction. It became impossible to stay sad. I felt lifted. I felt loved.
I began to see the lies. The darkness is full of lies. It wants me to forget that I ever felt happy or loved or worthwhile. It wants me to feel like I am a victim. It wants me to feel powerless. It wants me to compare my worst moments to others' best moments. The darkness wants me to feel alone.
One dear friend who I admire immensely shared an experience she had with some self-loathing thoughts that made her feel like she shouldn't even exist. When the pressure became immense, she audibly spoke to the darkness, "I exist! What do you want me to do about it?" It was at that moment she realized that the dark thoughts were not her own. There was an outside force that was working on her. There was something or someone that did not want her to exist. The darkness is evil. Its origin does not come from within. It is an outside force that is constantly pushing, fighting its way into my heart. The darkness is trying to destroy me.
I'm learning that the only thing harder than talking about it is not talking about it. I find relief in sharing my experience and hearing the experiences of others. I feel peace knowing that I am not alone. Others are fighting too. I can strengthen them through my experiences just as they strengthen me with theirs. Yes, the enemy is real. But the enemy is not from within. I am strong and capable and worthwhile. My role is important. So important that the evil one wants me written out of the script. I won't let that happen. I will continue to feel big feelings. I will continue to share and talk and listen. I refuse to be embarrassed by my humanity. I will stop trying to carry my burdens alone. I will recognize these fragile moments as opportunities for learning, connection and growth. I will reject the lies of my adversary.
"Learning to honor how you feel is key to being able to speak and move from an honest and thoughtful place....Show up and start giving myself permission to really experience my experiences, even the ones that do not feel so great. In fact, perhaps it is especially those moments that I want to give myself permission to go ahead and own. Those moments where I expose my small self, those days that I can't seem to get ahead, those freeze frames of fatigue and vulnerability....When we allow ourselves to really experience our experiences, then they can become transformational." -Adriene Mishler
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