Depression.sucks.

I need to share a bit.  And it seems like such big information to be public with, but it is also information that shouldn't be hidden.  We need to share more to let both those struggling, and those who are fortunate not to struggle to know a bit more about what we know and a lot more about what we don't. 

I have a little one. Well, I have four little ones.  One of them is struggling with depression. Big time. You'd think, how can someone under 6 years old even know enough to be depressed.  What could they be depressed about?? Well... I thought this at first, and then I reflected on my ignorance.  Depression isn't something that comes from bad situations.  It can be triggered by that, but it is hard wired into your being. And at least one of mine won the genetic lottery to have this piece as a part of their journey on earth.  

We talk about things like that: this is part of your journey. Everyone has something, this is your unique genetic soup to carry. A great example for our girls was when we couch surfed in Paris.  One of the young ladies in the family we stayed with was born without part of her arm, below the elbow.  It was very interesting to see the children react - or not react to this difference. About 24 hours after we met the family, one of my girls looked at me and said: "I feel very sorry for her, she doesn't have a hand." I said "oh? Sorry? That is part of what makes her her. Was there something you saw her try to do that she couldn't?" Reflection revealed that there wasn't. She could even give her brother a killer noogie. 

So we talked a while.  What is your challenge? What are you given to navigate? (Probably the Irish Catholic in me could even push the analogy to be: what cross are you given to bare? But...I'll save that one for a few more years.)

So, when one of my little girls came to tell me that there were daemons in her head. That she didn't see reason to live.  That she had plans, ideas, struggles.  Well, I couldn't think of a worse thing to hear. Remember our number one rule for living in our house? "Take care of yourself. Love yourself."  This echoed through out conversation as we talked about how much of a challenge this is. Even once, through tears, she told me "mom, I am so incredibly awesome.  So awesome that my job of taking care of me is harder than it is for others." What could I do but agree? She does think deeply, love passionately, ponder about the struggles of all of humanity.  She is fiercely awesome.  So I asked her about the demons. I asked her to share her thoughts, her plans.  I thanked her for sharing. I told her I believed her, and I would be here to help in the good times and the dark times. I also promised I would find someone to talk to about them.  And we did, we have, we do.  

This week, I am taking some time with friends to talk about what I need to do keep her and us safe. We are going to talk about resources, about love, about how to continue to be open to hearing the difficult things, even when we would rather they go away.  We will not be embarrassed and private about struggle.  We will share, and through sharing we will remember we are all given something to carry, we all have our challenges.  The world has but one commonality and it is that each of us are imperfect, and we live and love through these imperfections toward a common understanding of what it means to be a citizen of the world. 

When we went to the first therapy session, she hugged, and looked up at me with her bright, knowing eyes and said "thanks for believing me. Thanks for listening." 

Hopefully all of the girls know that we will always listen. We will always embrace them, independent of the challenges and struggles along the way.