Accompanying a pro bono bankruptcy client to a creditor's meeting is a good opportunity to think about resilience. You're packed into folding chairs; the trustee, a kindly older gentleman in a suit, is sitting up front; and around you are a couple dozen individuals who look nervous, ashamed, and fragile. There are a lot of crossed arms, a lot of chewing on lips. Not a lot of eye contact. It's like the line outside the principal's door, but without even any of the false bravado. Everyone feels like a failure.
I sat with my client and we talked about coping strategies. She's going to be just fine. She's fresh out of a long abusive relationship. She's sleeping on an air mattress at a friend's place. Her car's odometer just rolled over 300,000 miles. She's having trouble quitting smoking. But she's resilient. We talked about writing in journals, the mysterious way it helps. We talked about feeling guilty when we say no to people's requests for our time, and how necessary it is to do it anyway, to stake out some luxurious time for self-care and rejuvenation. We talked about school -- she's enrolled, and loves it. We talked about counseling and support groups and exercise and friends and family and all the ways there are to get support, to take care of yourself or to let others take care of you. She bit her nails and fidgeted, but when we were called up to talk to the trustee she laughed with him, met his eye, made a joke. She gave me a hug when we got back to my office, even though I told her not to (because of my various maladies). She presented me with a loaded bag of tomatoes from her garden. She's got a job lined up. She's going to make herself a duct tape bracelet "so the next time someone wants something from me that I don't want to do, I can imagine I have a big piece of duct tape over my mouth keeping me from agreeing to do it."
This woman will be fine. Being around her lifts me up. She's energetic and appreciative, expressive, smart, curious, eager to learn, real. She's taking care of herself, and of the other women in her domestic abuse support group. She's helping a friend of hers write a business plan for his landscaping business. She's helping her sister adopt a child. She's tough, and she's wounded, and she's got a load of healing to do, but she's got reserves, and resilience. She knows she'll be okay -- hasn't doubted it since I met her in the spring. And I know she'll be more than that -- with a clean slate for the future, this woman will be an inspiration.
....
Of all the cards you can be dealt at birth -- good looks, perfect pitch, laser-sharp concentration, charm, a rich daddy -- the one that seems most essential to have in your hand is resilience. I'm watching a person I love struggle with depression right now. It's so hard to watch. How do you break through the hopelessness and despair, the sense of unloveability, the unworthiness or shame that makes them withdraw? It's not about REALITY -- the folks I've seen fight depression have been smart, handsome, kind, sociable, active, and well-loved. Somehow it's just that sense of "I'm gonna come out of this okay" that gets lost. I wish, desperately, that there were a way for me to help give that certainty, that resilience, that confidence in one's inner resources, back to my dear friend.
Wisdom welcomed from those who know.
Some comments from the land of depression ...
I go through cycles with depression. Sometimes it is a struggle just to get up and eat and pee and go to work and come home and do it all again. When I am like this, I need people to hang out with me, not to pat me on the head, but just to bear it with me, so I am not alone.
As the wheel turns, I hit stages where it seems like I can defeat depression, and maybe step closer to that ever elusive sense of a normal life. During these times, I need my friends to remind me how moody I am when I am depressed, to point out how my depression keeps them from enjoying being in my company, to help me see the things I don't see about the depression so that I don't write it off as not very important.
For me, the struggle is mainly about medication. It is hard to admit that I can only function like a "normal" person if I take medication. Which is why it is helpful for me to get help in seeing things clearly, otherwise denial kicks in and I pretend that everything is fine, while my friends tiptoe around me, afraid to see my mood swing when they are in the target range.
Posted by: Michael Toy | September 29, 2003 at 08:47 PM
I come from a long line of depressed people (on my mother's side). Depression is hard to understand because, although it's mental, it's not the least bit rational. It's more like pure pain -- like spending every waking moment with a migraine or a pinched nerve. You can't talk yourself out of it or think it away. It's just there. It colors everything you do. Thus, simply being alive, which is pleasant to a normal person, is painful to a depressed person. Whereas a normal person is moderately happy most of the time, a depressed person experiences happiness only at rare intervals, when, for a few hours, the pain is muted.
My experience has been that the only help for the truly depressed is medication. Thankfully, we live in an age that has drugs capable of smothering the pain. The drugs aren't perfect (and more and more problems with them seem to be surfacing lately), but I've known depressed people who, after being on an SSRI, would rather cut off an arm than go back to their previous state.
Posted by: John P. | September 30, 2003 at 08:56 AM
It’s hard to watch someone struggle. And I believe you are right that resiliency is a key element. As someone who occasionally struggles with depression myself, I know the turning point for me is when realize that "I'm gonna come out of this okay" turns into “I don’t care if this turns out okay”. And not caring makes turning the situation / state of mind around seem insurmountable. The closest I can get to resiliency is perseverance.
Sadly despite having been there many times, remembering how you climbed out of depression previously (or summoning the will to) is difficult or impossible. For myself I know exercising at something I love – mountain biking – is a good first step. The combination of triggering endorphins and experiencing joy helps me remember a light exists at the end of the tunnel even if I can’t see the light from where I am at the time.
Posted by: David Kris | September 30, 2003 at 01:33 PM