What untapped strategies for handling depression might have mitigated symptoms if only I had implemented them earlier in life?

What decisions could have softened the intensity of symptoms or resulted in fewer episodes of depression?

Here are  my reflections.

 

Midlife Diagnosis

The year I turned 40 years old a psychiatrist diagnosed me with major depression. (I’m 75 now.)  My wife and several friends, one of them my pastor, had pleaded with me to seek medical or psychological intervention to treat my severe anxiety and episodes of depression that had marked my life up until then.

Now, 35 years later, what regrets surface about how I’ve handled my lifelong battle with mental illness? If I had known then what I know now, what would I have done differently?

 

1. I wish I had obtained medical and psychological help sooner.

As a Christian, I falsely assumed that I just needed to exercise more faith in the Lord. I refused suggestions to undergo a comprehensive physical exam or see a counselor experienced with treating mental illnesses. I assumed weak faith was the culprit. I didn’t understand the complexity of causes nor the myriad symptoms of depression.

Sure, a pattern of secret sin, or a failure to tap into God’s strength through means of grace such as prayer and Bible study, may either result in despondency or exacerbate its symptoms. But I had consistently engaged in prayers and Bible reading. I know now those spiritual practices sustained me through the worse days of depression, but there wasn’t a direct correlation between the quality of my time with the Lord on any given day and the degree of painful symptoms I experienced.

I didn’t know then how certain physical conditions, such as thyroid problems or diabetes, may cause depression (though these conditions weren’t true of me). Or that over 50% of people diagnosed with major depression identify a parent or grandparent who manifested similar symptoms, that a genetic component increases the likelihood of mental illness. (That definitely describes me!)  For a couple  years after the initial diagnosis, a medicine significantly improved my mood and instilled an inner peace I didn’t know was possible.

The effectiveness of the med didn’t last long term, because my body developed an immunity to it. Yet I discovered the short-term relief that the common grace of medicine offers for some people. Also, though the scores of visits I eventually made to see a Christian therapist never prevented depressive episodes, he assisted me in managing the negative effects of symptoms on my relationships, and in understanding the external triggers that exacerbated symptoms.

I gained appreciation for what theologians call God’s common grace.

 

     2.  I wish I had communicated with my two sons about the nature of depression and reasons for my symptoms.

My sons were born in 1974 and 1976. Several times in the mid to late 1980s, suicidal thoughts harassed me. Occasionally, I’d mutter aloud, “I want to die!” or “Nothing matters. I’d be better off dead!” I didn’t realize that on more than one occasion, my sensitive sons overhead me express a desire to die. They confided this to me decades later.

I had no idea that anyone overheard my verbal outbursts. I regret the anxiety and insecurity that instilled in my early adolescent sons.

I wish I had asked my sons to go with me to at least one appointment with my therapist, for the express purpose of hearing him explain the nature of depression and how I was proactively dealing with it. I’d schedule this special session far in advance so the counselor could prepare accordingly. Also, I wish I’d have talked to them more openly about my condition and let them know when I was having a rough week with it. We could have prayed more together during family times for God’s grace to alleviate symptoms.

If I could go back, there’s no way my sons would observe my hypersensitivity and dark moods and wonder, “What in the world is wrong with dad?”

 

     3.  I wish I had asked Dolly to accompany me to a few counseling sessions.

She also needed to hear an objective, expert opinion on what I was going through and potential effects on our marriage. The therapist could have explained in objective detail how my depressive episodes affected my communication with her. She would have grasped how certain triggers aggravated my symptoms.

God blessed me with a supportive wife who never blamed my depression on subpar spirituality. Yet now I see how, due to my hypersensitivity, I overacted to some things she did and said, assigning motives and attitudes to her that weren’t true at all. A few times, when I observed a slight frown or knit eyebrows, I falsely assumed she was mad at me or was about to criticize me. I’d blurt, “What’s wrong? Why are you upset with me?”

She wasn’t upset with me at all. On those occasions, after hours of housework and shopping, fatigue had caused her sullen expression. I projected onto her view of me the negative image I had of myself. What spurred my erroneous conclusion was the insecurity within me that plagued my relationships.

Anyone who knows my bride of 53 years depicts her as a positive, optimistic, warmhearted person. My counselor could have helped her understand why I jumped to such incorrect conclusions.

 

4.  Decades ago, I wish I had implemented a strategy for responding to depression that I’ve relied on more recently: serving another person who’s hurting or in need.

I’m referring to concrete forms of behind the scenes relational ministry, not to my writing of books or blogs, or to my public teaching venues.

In recent years, whenever despair made itself at home in my spirit, I’ve asked the Lord to give me the name of someone I could call, visit or who could receive from me a hand-written letter. “Lord, who can I encourage? Who needs comforting? Whose discouragement dwarfs mine?”

This cry to God recognizes that depression typically results in self-centeredness. It’s hard to focus on someone else’s need when you’re in the vise-grip of despondency. I haven’t always obeyed the Holy Spirit’s wooing to do this, but my obedience has been more consistent here lately.

A few months ago, I prayed this, through tears, late on a Sunday afternoon. The Holy Spirit whispered the name of someone in the hospital dying of cancer. Her husband had been a former faculty colleague. Despite misgivings, I drove to the hospital and visited her for 10 minutes. I held her hand, read aloud Psalm 46, thanked her for loyal ministry to her husband  that freed him to serve through teaching and writing, and prayed for joy to complement her pain. Though she couldn’t speak, I’ll never forget her face-splitting smile and the thanks her husband gave me. Five days later, she entered the presence of the Lord.

I’ve written letters to former students or friends in ministry, completing this sentence: “I thank God for you because_______.” Multiple recipients later informed me of perfect timing in light of what they were going through that particular week.

I’ve phoned individuals and said, sincerely, “If others ever respect me half as much as I respect you, then I’ll be a successful man!” The I explained why I said that.

Those are a few of the times when God’s Spirit used a weak, fragile man to buoy the spirit of someone else.

 

Not A Panacea for Depression

I’ve discovered that asking God for the name of someone to serve is a prayer He answers. Oh, if only I had asked this of Him decades ago!

I’m not saying that a letter, phone call or visit magically removed all my depression symptoms. But those were ways to use my time more unselfishly and effectively. It beat brooding over my sense of hopelessness and withdrawing deeper inside myself. God has shown me that personal ministry, unlike my former full-time vocational role, isn’t thwarted by retirement.

 

Your Response

Have you ever prayed this?

“Lord, don’t waste my pain. If you don’t remove it, please use it for others’ good and Your glory. Instill in me a greater sensitivity to others’ pain. In the name of Your Son, whose cross dramatically demonstrated how You redeem pain, amen.”

I can’t go back and change the things I regret. But perhaps it isn’t too late for you.