Couch gravity (n): A state of being in which one cannot muster the required forces (strength, energy, etc.) necessary to get off of one's ass and actually do something. Not exclusive to couches, this can also apply to beds, armchairs, particularly comfortable floors, and other such locations on which one can flop down and stay put for a seemingly infinite amount of time.
When I first moved back in to my parents' house after my divorce, I resumed sleeping in the basement, where my bedroom was. I was trying to continue life as usual and pretend nothing was wrong. I was also trying to face life head on and deal with it.
I still didn't know what depression actually was.
My sister called one day and asked if I'd like to sign up for a program she'd heard of through a hospital that works with her place of employment. The program was for treating depression. I had nothing to lose but time and bus fare, and my parents offered to pay the bus fare, so I went. The first thing I learned was just how pervasive depression actually is. I learned this by doing one quick questionnaire, designed to assess how depressed I was. It's called Beck's Depression Inventory, or BDI-II (second edition). For those who don't know what it is:
"The Beck Depression Inventory (BDI) is a 21-item, self-rated scale that evaluates key symptoms of depression including mood, pessimism, sense of failure, self-dissatisfaction, guilt, punishment, self-dislike, self-accusation, suicidal ideas, crying, irritability, social withdrawal, indecisiveness, body image change, work difficulty, insomnia, fatigability, loss of appetite, weight loss, somatic preoccupation, and loss of libido" (Beck & Steer, 1993; Beck, Steer & Garbing, 1988).
I'd only heard of the mood part and suicidal ideas. Did you notice that last little thing, tucked in neatly at the end of the list, "loss of libido"? Suddenly, every problem my ex had had with me was because of my depression, and/or how little either of us knew about it. This is not to say I was blameless. I am human. He is human. We made mistakes. Some bigger than others, yes. Some that have scarred me to this day, yes. But that's not my point.
I had been diagnosed with depression almost six years previous, and yet managed to know little enough about it that it consumed my life and pooped out my marriage.
Not looking to assign blame, but I should have done my research. I like doing research. Unfortunately, there's this stigma around mental health. I wanted to pretend it didn't exist. I wanted to be a perfectly adequate human, not needing counselling or medication or anything. If I'd had a problem with any other organ, vital or otherwise, the chances of random people I didn't know telling me that I didn't need treatment and just needed to "be strong" would be significantly lower. Who does that? Well, let's see...
One time I was on call for a store in my chain, but not my usual store. They needed me. I went in. I forgot my meds. Called my parents, they dropped them off, fine.
Coworker: "If you don't mind me asking, what are you medicated for?" (Some people can't believe how rude this is, other's can't understand why it's considered rude. It happened. I didn't care. Moving on.)
Me: (Not offended) "Depression and anxiety"
Coworker (who I've known for all of an hour at this point, during most of which we've been serving customers and not talking) proceeds to go on a rant about how difficult her life has been and she doesn't need antidepressants so why in the world am I taking them, what right do I have to claim that I need them, and why would I just accept that and not try to be strong enough to not need them.
I was no longer "not offended".
As previously stated, my family is Christian. That's how I grew up. One of the things taught earlier on in sunday school is what's called the Fruit of the Spirit. The idea is that when you accept that you need Jesus, he gives you the Holy Spirit. The Fruits of the Spirit are the signs that the spirit is working in you, making you a better person. I can still recite them. The second one is joy. (The full list is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, gentleness, and self-control. Found somewhere in Galatians.) How am I supposed to have joy if I'm depressed? Should the Holy Spirit not fix that part of my brain? Do I believe in faith-healing? This was a giant can of worms that I struggled with for many years before finally leaving the church, but not before hearing one Christmastime sermon (either the Sunday directly before or after Christmas) in which a pastor actually said "If you are a Christian, you have no right to not feel hope."
...so yes, people are, in fact, difficult to deal with when it comes to mental health. I'm trying to change that. Feel free to help me; I could use all the help I can get. Some ideas:
- Don't judge people for (anything, really, but mostly) being lazy or cancelling plans frequently. It's hard. I know. And not everyone who does this has mental health problems, but some of us do and just hide it well as a survival instinct. Feel free to challenge people to try to get better, but be gentle.
- Be willing to listen to people and what they're struggling with. Ask if they'd like advice before you give it. Sometimes the easiest solution for you is completely overwhelming for me. Sometimes I know what I need to do, I just need to vent about it and let the pressure out so that when I do act, I can do so level-headedly.
- Remember that different people can handle different things. Just because someone's life seems easy doesn't mean it is.
- Encourage people to take care of themselves. All illnesses require treatments. Sometimes that's self-care, like sleeping through a headache. Sometimes it's medication, like taking antibiotics for strep throat. Sometimes it's seeking professional help, like going to physiotherapy after breaking a bone.
Everybody's different. That's what makes life exciting. There's not a formula for helping people. That's what makes life difficult. There are two sides to every coin. It's up to us to flip it.
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