Looking Back on Depression
I have no alarm clock. The traffic outside my home usually wakes me at sunrise. So I let it.
My routine begins with a quiet prayer, a meditation, a calling to my consciousness. I try to awaken thought in a new way each day; not methodical or ritualistic but a necessary morning stretch of the mind.
With the recent passing of Robin Williams, my morning awakening has reminded me of my past and a personal struggle with depression. I’m grateful to say this was long ago and the healing is a result of my daily practice, my spiritual beliefs. Not everyone reaches a point of healing. So gratitude is high on the prayer list. As is compassion for those who struggle.
My glimpse back to difficult days includes a trip to the emergency room. I remember feeling and saying to myself over and over again, “I just want to feel something else, something better than this.” I was clumsy in my attempt. Messy.
I remember the nurse. She was kind, patient and hardly spoke a word to me so when she said, you’re mother and father are here, dear, her voice was deafening. The shame and the guilt pushed through my body and I choked on my tears. I let it out. She held me. Wiped my tears and kissed my forehead as if I were her own child. She was kind. I felt her kindness and I let it in.
A week later, my mother called the family to the house. She wanted us all to sit around the table and for everyone to tell me how loved I was and how important I was to the family. Somehow the agenda changed when it came to one close family member. I was told that I was only trying to be a better actress. I was exploring. I was pushing the boundaries so I could be more real on stage. I was a theater major in my second year of college. I laughed out loud. The shame and guilt moved, evaporated. It was that moment that I understood that I would never have words for what I was going through and that understanding from others was illusive and in most instances, impossible. I felt the unkindness and I did not let it in.
Over the years, I’ve been drawn to practices, projects and endeavors that help me stretch my mind, expand my consciousness. I guess I still want to feel something else, something better than this. The healing was not quick. It was gradual. Turning my thought away from darkness is not always easy. The ability to now look back on this experience is evidence that it is not impossible. A glimpse, a single moment of peace, clarity of love, calm. Finding this in thought on a daily basis heals me. I feel it and I have to let it in.
Compassion, love and light to the Williams Family and to all who struggle.