I was recently reminded that some of the most simple things we say to one another, words that are meant to inspire, connect, or that are simple formalities, can mean something very different to someone struggling with depression or other mental health issues. On a daily basis, there are words that pop out of our mouths out of habit. We usually don’t give them much thought, yet just last week, Blake gave me a window into a different perspective on words that I use.
“There’s something that I’ve been struggling with a lot recently,” Blake says. “People keep asking me how I’m doing.”
“Yes, they do that,” I say.
“Well, the thing is. I’m not sure what to say. I mean, what do you say when the answer to that question, ‘How are you?’ is, ‘I’d rather be dead?’ I don’t think that’s what people want to hear.”
He repeats this quandary to his therapist.
“Yes. It’s one of those formalities,” the therapist says. “I sometimes answer, ‘More or less.’ It confuses them.”
Blake laughs at this response, and then says, “There’s another thing people say. When things go wrong they say, ‘That’s life.’ ” Then he sighs and hangs his head. “That’s life.”
An entire conversation about depression ensued after that, but I took something away from those moments. It made me realize, more than ever, the power of words and how they may be construed by someone who is profoundly depressed. I realized that by saying “That’s life” to someone who is struggling to find even one reason to live, I may be reinforcing that life is nothing more than a series of bad stuff. I may be reinforcing the view of a world the depressed individual already finds so oppressive, so defeating. “That’s life. First it sucks, then it sucks more.”
I also thought about the power of asking, “How are you?” When we ask, do we really want to know? I thought of the depressed individual knowing what the socially appropriate answer is, and recognizing that, by giving it, they are telling a lie. Maybe there’s the feeling of being a misfit in a world where most people seem to be able to answer, “Good,” or “Fine.” Perhaps there’s a desire to say how awful they feel, but not wanting to be rejected for saying so.
I’m not suggesting we stop asking, “How are you?” Nor am I implying that we should drop, “That’s life,” as an expression when we want to explain to someone that the world is not perfect. I’m just taking a step into another frame of reference and, perhaps, taking you there with me for a moment. I just hadn’t ever realized quite the way my profoundly depressed 18-year-old son hears things, and I was given the opportunity to step into his perspective ever-so-briefly.
Of course, for Blake, it doesn’t end there. In his therapy, he is learning how to respond to the “How are you’s.” He is learning that there are some people he can be honest with, and other instances where he might give a social answer. He is also learning to challenge his view of the world. He is learning that “life” is not made all dark by some challenging moments. He is learning that there are shades of gray, and he is even beginning to notice moments of joy. For his father and I, it is a privilege to share in the journey.