Depression Symptoms: Recurrent Thoughts of Death

Sometime last year I was driving on the highway alone and when the possibility of a fatal car crash passed through my mind it did not upset me. That was distressing. When I stopped later, I called a friend. I didn’t tell her the whole story, just that I was sad and needed to talk a minute. Reconnecting with the outside world (highway driving is like cocooning) adjusted my brain enough to shake off the mood.

When I described this episode to Therapist, the phrase “suicidal ideations” came up. Me? Really? Suicide? No way. Labeling my thoughts suicidal ideations alarmed me. It was hard to grasp that the urgency I associate with being suicidal related to me.

I cannot imagine that I would ever end my life. I readily imagined, though, how comforting it would be to go on a long vacation and come back in a year or so when the hard part was over. Therapist told me that a healthy person might feel uncertain, unhappy, anxious, but still that "this is my life so I will get through it." I was so wrapped up in my own crazy world that wanting to disappear seemed reasonable. Wise, even.

I get it now. Depression made my world so small and dark that death seemed comforting. I think that telling someone what I was thinking was the most helpful step. As soon as I saw the concern and anxiety it aroused in a friend, I realized the danger. I still felt like there were a million other people who could, and should, take care of my life instead of me but I held onto the assurance that God had given me to my family and that He was with me through my depression.

To read all the posts in the depression symptoms series, go here.

Depression Symptoms: Substance Abuse

Several months ago I was working on a series of posts about my experience as it relates to the formally recognized symptoms of depression. There are a few still to go.

I’ve seen enough movies to know that alcoholism is associated with depression (Crazy Heart, anyone?) but have not thought much about it except in the abstract. I was surprised when, in the middle of my own depression, I discovered that drinking is an effective anesthetic.

The denomination in which I grew up is historically a tee-totaling crowd. I picked up on that undercurrent and drank little even through college. I became accustomed to social drinking during our years at the seminary. Odd, I think, and problematic, but that’s for another time.

I remember clearly the night I realized I needed to guard against excessive drinking. My family was out to dinner, celebrating a major achievement in my brother’s career, and we shared a couple bottles of particularly yummy wine. It crossed my mind that I would like to stay there and keep drinking and forget the unrelenting sadness of my life.

I told my husband about it that night. I’ve found that telling my secrets takes the power out of them. This one seemed particularly shameful to me. I don’t think I ever told it to anyone else or ever spoke about it again with my husband.

The urge to drink too much came and went throughout my depression, but I think that having spoken about it aloud helped me stay aware of how our unhappiness could have been multiplied by alcohol abuse.

To read all the posts in the depression symptoms series, go here.

Low Mo

I keep hoping I can stop writing reports of being surprised by my own depressive symptoms. Not yet! I think that I can stop writing about them when they stop surprising me. I continue to be an optimist so when things look up for a week or two I'm primed to think: CURED!

The psychiatrist I've been seeing thinks I'm doing very well and approved me to gradually decrease the dose of my anti-depressant. I have no philosophical objection to medication for mental health, but it would feel good to stop taking it. It's a sign of independence and improved health.

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For the first part of May I felt quite well: motivated, more energetic, even-keeled. I've been making steady progress toward some good routines - sleeping on a regular schedule, for 8 hours instead of 10; personal devotion; some exercise. I haven't really tried, I've just felt like doing those things. All very good.

Then I got moody and bored with everything. Low on motivation. That stupid episode with Voldemort threw me off. Husband is still having a difficult time and I am sad for him and I miss the man I remember. I spent a week or so feeling like life could just waddle along without me and I'd watch.

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Last night I finally figured out how to explain this stuff to Husband. I want to tell him about this kind of thing but I also want to protect him from more bad mojo. Protecting is something I do as a parent for my children and I'm not his parent. I'm his partner.

As soon as I described all this moody weirdness aloud to him I felt entirely relieved. Suddenly I wanted to make some plans for the next day.

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Depression is mysterious to me. Painful & tenacious.

Exposure

After my last post, a reader wrote me with this thoughtful question:

How do you keep people from your previous congregation and even the sr pastor from reading your blog? Are you ever afraid they will identify you by what you write? I think you are so brave to voice your troubles. I don't know that I could do that.

I have thought about this a lot and people close to me have listened to me fret about it for, cumulatively, hours and hours. Below are some of the things I've decided upon that allow me to write this blog.

It is certainly possible that someone from my old congregation has or will come upon this blog. The majority of them would not ever recognize that I am writing about their church. The people who have hurt me, sr pastor included, seem so unaware of themselves that I would not expect them to see that I am describing their behavior. If they do, I'm not sure what they would do about it. Apart from my description of the conflict I don't think there is anything here that identifies them specifically, so they'd be accusing themselves.

This is why I guard my anonymity so carefully online. I have no interest - ABSOLUTELY NO INTEREST - in identifying the people or the congregation I am describing. I cannot imagine any benefit that would come of that and I write primarily for my own benefit. Describing my experience helps me understand it, cope with it, trust God with it, compartmentalize it. I learn by writing. When I start a post I usually know what I want to write about and have an idea what I will say, but often discover something in the process of explaining myself.

I started this blog almost a year ago and a miraculous, unexpected second purpose has turned out to be creating a community of churchworkers and families who hurt. I thought there might be half a dozen people who would read this. I don't know how many readers I have, but it's more than that. The affirmation, encouragement, and spiritual care I receive from your comments and notes is one of God's great provisions for me.

Espionage

And now, a little spying. A few days ago my husband was talking to someone from a local congregation that is interested in having him help them out for a while, and maybe to call him eventually if they can gather the funds. An elder from our congregation was in the same coffee shop and apparently eavesdropping on their conversation and thought there must be something untoward about. The elder didn't speak to my husband, but he reported the conversation to the senior pastor.

Are they a bunch of teenage girls?

Urgent Need for Prayer

My husband has a meeting tonight with several members of our congregation. It is very important that the conflict be discussed honestly, but we have reason to believe that many of the people he'll be with are in extreme denial about the intensity of the conflict between my husband and the senior pastor.

It is physically painful for me that I cannot alleviate the anxiety or stress of this for my husband. I rely on the confidence that God will be at that meeting and that He works in the hearts of all the people there. Please pray that everyone there tonight will speak the truth in love and hear the truth in love.

A Forgiving Community

I've been following the Church Whisperer blog, which deals with church conflict, and this post particularly struck me. It's a meditation on Luke 7:41-47, in which Jesus explains the connection between being forgiven and forgiving. The kind of transparency and humility he describes is exactly what I crave in a congregation.

My Secret Society

I starting to think that depression has admitted me to a secret society of depressed women. It's super-duper secret: none of us knows who else belongs.

A couple of weeks ago I told the Bible study group I'm in that I've been dealing with clinical depression and asked them to pray for me. The response was awkward and caring. This morning I bumped into a woman from that group and she pulled me aside and whispered that she also suffers from depression. She told me that she's on medication. Or, no, she didn't tell me -- she mouthed it without sound.

A few other women I know have "confessed" to depression, or told me that someone close to them deals with depression.

I definitely understand the inclination to guard privacy related to mental health, but this seems counter-productive.