If you’re reading this, and someone in your life is struggling with their mental health, let's take a moment to respond in love.
No one really talks about it, but it’s not always easy to love someone who is struggling. We’re all imperfect people in a messy world. When someone else shares their burdens with us, we don’t always know how to respond to them, love them, or walk with them well. I have been on both sides of this reality.
My depression was pretty severe my second year and third year. I had wonderful people around me who cared about how I was doing and encouraged me to seek help, and for that I’m incredibly grateful. I know it wasn’t always easy to love me, because sometimes depression gets in the way of living life in a “normal,” routine way. I’d make plans with people one day, and then the next, I would barely be able to get out of bed. I had a hard time showing up in the ways I needed to in classes, organizations, and friendships. Texts from friends went unanswered, and I had difficulty focusing on conversations. I felt overwhelmed and guilty and frustrated and very much aware that my depression was affecting not only me, but my relationships with the people around me. I hated that and hated myself for it.
It's my fourth year now, and I’ve been able to find some sense of stability. I still go to therapy. I still take antidepressants. I’ve learned better, healthier ways to live with my depression, but it’s taken a lot of hard work. It’s been a collaborative effort between me, my therapist, my family, and my friends.
On bad days, I often just need someone to let me feel the feelings and cry if I need to. When my depression was at its worst, there was someone in my life who was close to me and cared deeply for me, but would often make me feel like they wanted to “fix” me. It came from a good place, but it reinforced the feeling that there was something very wrong with me, and I felt guilty for not “getting better.”
The good news is this: you don’t have to have all the answers. You don’t have to have life-transforming words of encouragement, affirmation, or advice. And you definitely don’t have to tell them that “everything happens for a reason.” Sometimes, things happen. Emotions spring up unexpectedly, relationships end, dreams are lost, our brains have chemical imbalances - and we can try to make meaning out of all of it, but we can’t always reason away the sadness, grief, anger, and confusion. I would challenge us to stop attempting to do that.
When bad days or weeks happen, I want people to be okay with me bringing that up in conversation. I want to be able to respond to a casual, “How are you?” with an honest, “It was hard to get out of bed today and I’m feeling a little down,” and not feel embarrassed or ashamed about it. When I share my burdens with you, I am not asking you to make things better. I am asking you to offer a hug, a simple, “I’m sorry, just know that I am with you,” or even an acknowledgement of, “That really sucks and I’m really sorry you’re going through that.”
My struggle with mental health has caused hurt, confusion, disappointment, and misunderstandings for other people. I know this, and it saddens me, but it also empowers me to continue fighting for myself. It fills me with gratitude and comfort, knowing that I do have a support system, even if I don’t always see it. It encourages me to be honest with others about how I’m doing, so that they at least know I’m not trying to hurt them.
The reality is this: we all have mental health and we all struggle with it. It looks different for everyone, but our mental and emotional health are a real part of being human. So, don’t distance yourself from it when it comes up in conversations and interactions. If you’re uncomfortable, that’s okay - but show up anyway. Practice empathy and give love. In one way or another, we all fall short of loving each other and showing grace and compassion. You may not always feel like loving, and it will be difficult - but it is always, always right.
If you’re reading this, I challenge you to respond to someone else’s vulnerability in love.
Kristen S., University of Virginia ‘20