WiW: On Depression, mostly

The Week in Words

On Depression as an idea about suffering:

“There is a sense in which depression has been manufactured–not as an illness, but as an idea about our suffering, its source, and its relief, about who we are that we suffer this way and who we will be when we are cured.”
~Gary Greenberg, Manufacturing Depression

Greenberg’s thesis is fascinating: that the modern medical model of depression involves distinct value judgments about what suffering is, what causes suffering, and how suffering is to be cured. As a reluctant sufferer from depression (that is, one who did not seek out a depression diagnosis), I know that I have often wondered about the implicit statements the diagnosis of “depression” seems to make about who I am and what I am experiencing.

The medical model seeks to de-personalize depression by making it “just” a disease. At the same time, how can I separate my response–that is, my willful response to my circumstances–from what the doctors would say is an involuntary, pathological response to my circumstances?

On the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders (DSM):

“The DSM is an unparalleled literary achievement. It renders the varieties of our psychospiritual suffering without any comment on where it comes from, what it means, or what ought to be done about it.”
~Gary Greenberg, Manufacturing Depression

Unlike manuals in more traditional medicine (which tend to describe etiology, symptoms, and treatment options), the DSM describes only the symptoms of a particular “mental disorder”. It pathologizes without regarding either cause or treatment, leaving sufferers in a difficult spot. They have been told that they have a problem–but since no one knows the cause, the only response can be to try to make the symptoms go away. The problem with this is that we have arbitrarily labeled these responses as unhealthy and sought to do away with them–but how do we know for sure that these responses truly are pathological? It’s an interesting thing to contemplate.

On what we really need when we need help:

“What you and I need most is not the affirmation of our stories, nor content-less, shapeless platitudes about the mysterious journey of faith, nor a morality pep talk, nor the undermining of God’s sovereignty. What we need is a glimpse of God in all his terrible splendor and wonderful weightiness.”
~Kevin DeYoung

It’s tempting, when times get tough and coping seems difficult, to think of all the things one needs: a good friend, unconditional acceptance, more sleep, less stress, an end to the struggles, an increase in medication, a check of thyroid hormones. But while some of these things may be helpful–they are not ultimately what we need when life is hard. When life is hard, what we ultimately need is to see God.

It reminds me of God’s answers to Job’s questions–more like God’s non-answers to Job’s questions. God doesn’t answer Job’s questions. He doesn’t explain the circumstances. Instead, He reveals Himself. And that’s exactly what Job needed.

“I have heard of You by the hearing of the ear,
But now my eye sees You.
Therefore I abhor myself,
And repent in dust and ashes”
~Job 42:5-6

Collect more quotes from throughout the week with Barbara H’s meme “The Week in Words”.

**Note: Please recognize that I do not intend to make light of the sufferings of depressed individuals. Depression can be difficult and even debilitating. Many (including myself) have benefited from the medical treatment of depression. But I don’t think this means that we should simply blindly accept the medical model of depression without evaluating its underlying assumptions about who we are and how we respond to our circumstances. And we should certainly never let medicine or other psychological therapies take the place of turning our eyes towards Jesus.**


Reflections of a old woman

What is it that makes me so melancholy when my life is so full? Do I miss the sweetness of my life for longing for the one thing that it lacks? Do I forget the pleasures of today pining for the treasures of tomorrow?

I have spent too many years in tomorrow, I know not if I can regain the todays I have. Years of longing dreaming, making dates and never keeping them. I was to have a house by 25, I knew it inside. But my todays never matched my dream of tomorrow, and now that is only a false hope. And the todays I lived got lost in the plans for tomorrow so that I do not know whether I have succeeded or failed. I can list my activities but cannot list my accomplishments, for everything I have done has fallen short of its intention. How can I regain today with pure hope for tomorrow?

Fallen, dismayed, dashed, diseased. And I become an old maid, not out of age but out of loss. For an old maid is only a woman who feels only the losses of yesterday and none of the future of today. I mourn the setting aside of my little girl dresses, but instead of taking up the gay young woman’s garb, I settle down to widow’s weeds. I act as if I had lost my life, when I have only just begun. If life is beads upon a chain, my first twenty have been forgotten while dreaming of the ones that would come.

But I will not remain in this state. I will only beg my Lord that He restore the years of the locust, that my life might not be unfruitful. I will only petition my Savior that He redeem my dreams. I will hold fast to my Beloved. But still my heart will ask, in peace and anguish both–I beg You, my Lord, a letter. A letter I might open with “Dearest friend” and close “Ever, affectionately yours.”


Emotions

There are moments in my life. Where I’m too spent to speak. There are times when I feel completely empty. Sometimes I bluff off the truth that haunts me. If I laugh, maybe no one can tell that I’m just a shell. I eat, hoping it will fill me, but it doesn’t. I am lethargic, slow. I don’t want to move. I want little more than to curl up in my bed with a book.

Why? Why am I so bound to my emotions? I thought I had reached a plateau in time to take the big plunge. I know I’m not fat, but some days I look in the mirror and I am. Some days I see through my face. Some days I feel so utterly unattractive that all I can do is pretend. And why? I know that’s not so. I know that people love me, God loves me. I know that I’m not overweight. I know that I’m not ugly. So why do I listen when my emotions tell me otherwise?

I’m a wimp and I know it, cocooning against the extremities. Did I pick the wrong major when I chose dietetics? After all, it makes me take biochemistry. No, then why is my favorite class this semester Shakespeare? Because I love to read, and I love English. Why didn’t I go with the English major I’d thought of earlier? Not practical. Why shouldn’t I give in to temptation now? Because the only reason I like Shakespeare is because it’s easy. If all I had to do was English, I would never have to push myself. I could pretend my way through life because I love it.

No pain, no gain, they used to say. That’s wrong and right. Everything’s so garbled. Unless I fatigue my muscle I’ll never grow. But I think my fatigue is the wrong kind. I have stress fractures from running too long, but no muscle built from the effort. Instead my flesh defends itself against the rigors of my life by developing callouses, drawing itself in and pushing all else outside. I’ve got too much pain so I curl in a ball and pretend it isn’t there.

I try to do the things I once did to relax. Nothing has any appeal. I start a book, and let it lie. I don’t care. Really. I want to get up and exercise–dance to some music in my room–but my body would rather not. And I don’t. I try to surf the web, to explore something. Nothing whets my appetite. I am starving for rest, but all I do is sleep. Hours upon hours upon hours of sleep. I’m so tired, but I cannot rest.

The only thing that gets me through is the promise of Romans 8:1-3. “There is therefore now no condemnation to those who are in Christ Jesus, who do not walk according to the flesh, but according to the Spirit. For the law of the Spirit of life in Christ Jesus has made me free from the law of sin and death. For what the law could not do in that it was weak through the flesh, God did by sending His own Son in the likeness of sinful flesh, on account of sin: He condemned sin in the flesh.” In Christ, I do not walk in condemnation. My flesh and its death no longer hold sway over me. I am set free by the law of the Spirit of life in Christ Jesus. I have only to learn to walk according to the Spirit.