The text of this blog is a manuscript I wrote between 2004 and 2006 about my experience with depression, and what I learned from it. I claim no psychiatric or medical expertise; I only wrote what I felt. My standpoint is that of an LDS wife and mother who has experienced depression. I know that countless others have this trial as well, and have included some thoughts, feelings, and stories from several others who were good enough to share their experiences with me (names have been changed). I feel that if there is even the slightest chance that someone may gain any measure of peace or comfort from my thoughts--even if it is derived simply from knowing that you are not alone--then this is well worth my time. If you don't agree with what I say here, that's fine with me. I never mean to oversimplify or trivialize the experience of depression, and I don't claim that anything I say will cure anyone. If you or anyone you know has depression, I hope that what I say might help. (I'll warn you right now though, if you're currently depressed, you'll probably be inclined to tell yourself that this stuff doesn't apply to you.)
Since writing this, I've experienced depression a couple of times, in the form of postpartum depression that I didn't even recognize for what it was for quite awhile, since it manifested itself more in anger than in sadness. I've also had some experience with anxiety, which adds a whole new and awful dimension to the whole thing. But for any of these circumstances, I think that the more we can talk about all of it, the more power we reclaim.

-Jana

(Chapter 7) Struggling in the Spirit

Abide with me! fast falls the even-tide;
The darkness deepens. Lord, with me abide!
When other helpers fail and comforts flee,
Help of the helpless, oh, abide with me!
-Henry F. Lyte[1]

Enos tells us “of the wrestle which I had before God” (Enos 1:2), “struggling in the spirit” (v. 10). Alma relates that he “labored much in the spirit, wrestling with God in mighty prayer” (Alma 8:10). Prayer is not always easy. I have never understood these references to the “wrestle” with God as well as I did when I was depressed, when the struggle felt almost physical. Closing me eyes seemed painful, and I was keenly aware not only of how uncomfortable it was to kneel, but of how tired and frustrated I was. More than that though, I didn’t feel worthy to say much. I didn’t feel worthy to pray.
I felt completely ungrateful; sometimes I felt like the people described in the Book of Mormon as “dark, loathsome, and filthy.” I loathed myself, feeling there was darkness in my very soul. At times I felt that I must have done something to deserve this, so I should just accept it and refrain from asking God to take away something that was my fault anyway. Other times I knew that I hadn’t done anything to bring this upon myself, and I’d alternate between feeling forsaken by the Lord and feeling that I was a failure for my inability to get rid of my dark feelings, to “arise from the dust” and “shake off the chains” (2 Ne 1:21 & 23) that held me so tightly.
It was always at these darkest moments of sorrow, frustration, and loneliness that I told myself, just as I have always learned, that the times we don’t feel like praying are the times we need most to pray. “For if ye would hearken unto the spirit which teacheth a man to pray ye would know that ye must pray; for the evil spirit teacheth not a man to pray, but teacheth him that he must not pray” (2 Nephi 32:8).
[1] “Abide with Me!” Hymns 166

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