stepping on rocks

*** Forewarning: This post tackles some politics and draws up some big faith-oriented questions for me. If it's not your thing, feel free to stop now and tune in next time.

Today, in a discussion of politics and minimum wage, I witnessed an exchange that knocked the wind out of me. One friend posted a picture with a heartbreaking story of a woman who exemplifies struggles faced by many in our country. His point was that our country needs to change because of this heartbreak. I completely agree, with sentiment and politics, in fact.

The comment thread then contained something to the effect of "Why is our country like this? Why do we keep voting for people that tear this country apart?"

The consensus? Hate and Jesus.

And it was followed by "I've never met a God type that did not have some kind of disparaging attitude."

I think I read this sentence a solid 20 or 30 times. I composed at least 4 different responses. I couldn't bring myself to post any of them.

I don't know that I disagree. No - that's not true, I disagree. I think more accurately it should be "Hate and people who say they do things for/because of Jesus."

WHY?! Why the hell is that statement even possible? I am not writing this to support one political cause or another. I have my opinions - everyone should as long as they make an effort to be well informed.

But why is it that the majority of people I work with in a number of jobs on an almost daily basis have only experienced hatred and persecution at the hands of Christ followers? I haven't always been a "God type". On days like this, I remember why.

I don't have answers. I have nothing to expound upon at this point in time.

All I know is that the statement is sorely well-founded and breaks my heart to the core.

On days like that, how do you fight the feeling that everything you believe in and fight for is not some colossal waste of time and energy? I don't know.

what i have never been able to explain about depression

I think for everyone it’s different for everyone. Especially as I have grown, optimism is a trait that other people seem to associate with me frequently. Which is so odd. Because I was such a pessimist growing up. By the time I was fourteen I felt jaded as fuck – so skeptical of people’s ability to love and care and be genuine. So I make a real attempt to change that as often as I can. Until the depression hits.

It’s hard to describe the moment you become entranced. I just feel this downward pull forever. This crabbiness, this hatefulness, this sad rage building. And I hate myself for it. Until that moment strikes. If you listen close, I feel like you could hear it with a stethoscope. It’s this small click. Or maybe it’s a fall. Or a push. Or a ….something. But all of a sudden you find this coziness in this dark little corner where suddenly you don’t give a fuck. It doesn’t hurt to be rageful or lonely or sad to the bottom of your soul – because you can’t fathom what it’s like to be completely happy.

Maybe it’s because it eats at you until you are just encompassed whole. And then… well, it’s like this warm spot that you forgot existed. Just welcoming you back. Holding you. And that’s what gets me.

What people never seem to understand. Depression isn’t cold. It’s this mournfully beautiful, inviting place where you feel comforted and strangely welcome. And that’s why it’s tempting to never leave.

Leaving means explaining. It means having to the listen to the people who tell you they understand when they don’t. It means dealing with looks from friends who go from being supportive to “Just come on already.”

Like there’s a timeline on it. Like I can just turn it off. Like I would want to.

Because, obviously, Christians don’t deal with depression. Because optimists don’t have depression. Because people who have no dramatically desperate circumstances in their life can’t  get depression. Because you have people who love you, you can’t get depression. Because you smile and laugh and live joyfully 80 percent of the time you shouldn't have depression. Insert sarcasm here.

And I’m one of the lucky ones. My depressive bouts cycle every 1-2 years, with my really bad episodes falling somewhere from 4-5 years.

If you haven’t sat in this space before. This probably reads to you as aggressive… or crazy… I’m not sure. Because I can’t imagine a world where I don’t know what this feels like.

Here’s what I really want you to know.

Just because I hurt doesn’t mean I quit loving you.| No amount of telling me you want me to feel better will actually make me feel better.| Please don’t be afraid to hug me or comfort me. I need human touch now more than ever.| Yes, I know there are medications.| Sometimes I’m not actually tired, I just don’t feel like explaining it.| I get that it’s awkward and you don’t know what to do. Neither do I.| If I could just snap myself out of it, I would.| Depression is constricting, immobilizing, and scary – as much for me as for you.| I want to laugh and smile, but it feels like I forgot how.| Not everyone’s depression is the same.

I imagine that being enveloped by depression must be a lot like being constricted by a snake. It’s painful and crushing but warm. The pressure can be relaxing –

until, of course, you can’t breathe.