The goal of this blog has never been murky, but it has also never been quite clear. And that's intentional.

I've always wanted it to be complete thoughts: things that I am able to look back at and understand fully (or at least, as full as I believe so). Often this takes the form in something that -as I can articulate well- can hopefully be helpful for others. But the goal has never been to make some sort of self-help blog.

Nor has it been to make a journal. As I said above, I want to write things as more of a chronicle of the journey rather than an exploration. I try to sit on ideas and -while I usually write them out in one go- the concept for most posts are rarely off the top of my head, nor are their contents.

Not that there's anything wrong with either self-help nor (public) journaling. It's simply not my own intention.

There is such a reason for a check in though. 2020 was an absolutely wild year for me; on top of....well, what went on in the world and particularly in my country of the U.S., it was a massive year of self-exploration, self-affirmation, and (dare I say) self-discovery. So much so that I am very much still processing much of it to the extent that I have not felt like writing it. But I've come to realize that I will start to lose some of my journey if I do not write it down. I will forget specifics or how to express what I actually felt at the time. So while I do not feel as though I'm at "the other side" of anything, so to speak, here are my thoughts, disorganized as they may be, about the year that is 2020.

To know what it is to suffer is to know the very essence of what makes us human. When you're forced to touch this, it's up to you what you do with it. It is more than a choice, it is an ongoing choosing, to continue to use your suffering to hold the suffering of others instead of making you hard and cold. Give kindness not because of what you've been told or what you hope to receive. It can only come from the same place that experienced all that pain. And then, it becomes a beautiful power that no suffering can ever truly take from you.

I just had a respiratory treatment that, due to side effects, has made me all shaky, light headed, and my heart is racing. It feels indistinguishable from having a panic attack, even though I know I'm not.

That's how to view "validation" for feelings. Validation is saying "yes, you are experiencing those symptoms. And, holy shit, does that suck to have to feel those things. They're horrible to feel." You do that first. Then you can say "but remember, it's not real. You're feeling those horrid sensations, and that so sucks, but it's not really a panic attack. It's okay that those sensations exist, and it's okay that they don't match reality, and I know that knowing that doesn't make them any less unpleasant. I will sit with you while they do. You are loved, and it will pass."

"I know you feel like everybody hates you. And, holy shit, does it suck to feel that feeling. It's a terrible thing to feel. But remember, it's not real. You're feeling those horrid emotions, and that so sucks, but everyone doesn't really hate you. It's okay that that feeling exists, and it's okay that it doesn't match reality, and I know that knowing that doesn't make it any less unpleasant. I will sit with you while they are here. You are loved, and it will pass."

Peter Levine is a doctor who developed Somatic Experiencing after years of exposure to trauma as a medical doctor. He found that essentially there are indeed ways to almost measure, or at least observe, trauma as a physical manifestation in the body, how it happens, and how to treat it. This is only part of that explanation, and also in my own words. And I want to be explicitly clear that I am not a mental health professional nor a Somatic Experiencing practitioner. These are my thoughts as a patient; reference material will be listed at the end of the post.

This is part of a series and I would recommend starting from the beginning if you have not done so already. You can find all the posts in the series under the tag "Comforting the Depressed".

Be patient. Be grateful, when possible. Be open.

It's important to remember that, at every step and stage and form of comfort, both sides are engaged. The primary reason for this series, looking back, is because (a) depression is vastly misunderstood and most people don't seem to have a clue how to approach it, and (b) depression can make one not seek comfort actively for a myriad of reasons, ranging from hopelessness to self-loathing to learned helplessness. But of course, the depressed is an active party; all relationships are two way streets.

This series has been "comforting the depressed" but there is also something to be said for "being comforted as the depressed". (Which may yield a series in an of itself, we shall see.) As for the moment, I cannot write anything to that effect presently, but I do know there is something to be said. Perhaps it varies wildly from case to case, but there are some observations I've made through my experiences that I believe can be applied to most.

So, to the depressed, someone has become an active form of comfort in your life. Perhaps they understand depression well or, more likely, they have gaps in their knowledge. What can you do to help yourself be comforted (often despite yourself)?

This is part of a series and I would recommend starting from the beginning if you have not done so already. You can find all the posts in the series under the tag "Comforting the Depressed".

A lot of times. It's acceptable to probe, to a point.

The question "How are you?" has become a pleasantry; like a handshake when encountering someone. My canned response, without thinking, is "Fine, thanks, how are you?" And that's ok, I'm not disparaging it; the cashier at Starbucks doesn't really want to know if I've spent the last week in bed depressed or had a panic attack earlier about whether or not to cook french fries.

There's a pseudo-quote that floats around the internet that goes something like "The most common lie in the world is 'I'm fine'".

This is part of a series and I would recommend starting from the beginning if you have not done so already. You can find all the posts in the series under the tag "Comforting the Depressed".

Don't try to replace one, and don't let yourself bear the burden of one.

There's a reason that this is #4 and not #1 on the list. Because coming straight off the bat with "go see a therapist" or "have you tried medication?" is neither listening nor validating.

BUT. You are not a professional. You are not trained to deal with what has been studied as the phenomena of clinical depression -more than just catching glimpses as you go through life. Even those -such as myself, who has been through much more exposure than the average person- cannot and should not view themselves (knowingly or unknowingly) as being wise enough to know the most effective way of delivering help, or what the most effect help to be delivered is. It's something that I must remind myself of constantly when offering support to others with depression: I must accept my role as a peer despite how much I believe (often rightly) have "learned".

This is part of a series and I would recommend starting from the beginning if you have not done so already. You can find all the posts in the series under the tag "Comforting the Depressed".

Be there, but also be active. Reach out.

This is a huge variable that depends entirely on the nature of the relationship between the two people. But, if your intention is to comfort more than a one-off, being available for support is a massive help. As I said, the level of availability depends: it can be from "You can text me if you ever just need to make smalltalk", "You can text me if you're feeling down", to "You can call if you're feeling lonely or overwhelmed", to "You can call me literally day or night if you're in a crisis".

This is part of a series and I would recommend starting from the beginning if you have not done so already. You can find all the posts in the series under the tag "Comforting the Depressed".

This piggybacks off of Listening in that it is generally the next chronologically, but not always. And the problem is that a lot of people absolutely don't understand the basic concept of validation.

Here's validation in a nutshell: accepting that things that are being experienced are being experienced. That if I say "I'm feeling sad today and I don't know why", to accept that, yes, I am feeling bad, without trying to dive into the "why". And very importantly passing no judgment.

Obligatory disclaimer that I am not a professional nor do I mean to imply that what I'm saying is true in every case and that I'm only speaking from my own personal experience.

I started writing this as one single blog post but it grew much too large and I think separate posts for each point gives me a better chance to flesh out ideas.

Also I initially wanted to direct it at the "mentally ill" in its entirety, but because I have primarily struggled with depression and haven't run this by people with other mental illnesses, I don't want to overstep my bounds; it's fallacious for me to say I speak from my own experience if I extend beyond that. However, I do think that, on a basic level, these things are true for almost all relationships -be it family, friendship, romantic partner, etc. At the very least, perhaps people in vastly different situations may be able to gleam a small bit here and there; "take what you want and leave the rest", as they say.