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Since my talk at All Saints, I've been thinking about depression and how that plagues so many people. I remember telling a friend after I returned from treatment that I was feeling depressed, and she told me that I seemed okay to her. I still remember this incident because she did not understand or try to understand me. Too often we do not see beyond the exterior smiles of someone to know how they really are. When we ask how someone is, do we really want to know?
That reminds me of the people in Zambia, who would shake each person's hand and ask, "How are you?" AND wait for the reply--in rapt attention. (I was in Zambia one year ago, perhaps having someone do just that.) Who do we give our whole attention to?
Here's a poem by Hafiz about depression:
I know the voice of depression
Still calls to you.
I know those habits that can ruin your life
Still send their invitations.
But you are with the Friend now
And look so much stronger.
You can stay that way
And even bloom!
2 comments:
Oh yes. I talked today with someone who is suffering, so much, from clinical depression. Fortunately, she's getting what sounds like some good help.
It's interesting how depression sort of stands at the crossroads between the spiritual and the physical/biological. I can sort of feel a depression lingering on the horizon for me right now, but I think that's mostly tied to having felt so badly physically for the last three weeks, and not yet having the energy to do what I want and need to do.
Thanks for this post, Jan. Being honest about it really helps.
Katherine, how I appreciate your comment. I used to fear depression descending upon me again to the extreme I endured (suicidal ideation and attempts) until I experienced God's love and assurance washing over me on Easter 1999. That assurance still lives with me, and I am grateful.
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