Depression is not without any good, if I can call it that.
Pain is a bit paradoxical, we spend a lot of time and energy avoiding it, yet its lessons often last a long time, and are very important. We know it, but we still frequently try to numb or run away from it, consciously or subconsciously. This pain, this anxiety, and this depression that I have endured for years, have caused great suffering, of course — it zapped my energy, siphoned away my motivation, and took away my will to live. I sometimes marvel at how complex human beings are — we can think one way and act totally differently, like I keep thinking about dying but I can’t seem to act upon it, and I don’t really know why either. If anything, this limbo causes even more anguish.
So I wouldn’t ask people to see depression as a “teacher” to justify the pain, for the pain is often too much — so much so that a lot of people have chosen death rather than dealing with it. No. I don’t think this post will be about finding meaning in suffering. This is more of a reminder to myself, that if I ever “lived to tell the tale”, I will always remember the pain and use this lesson to help others. For we often take for granted what we know, thinking that others should know certain things, and forget that what we know is largely shaped by our past experiences, which is different for everyone.
Depression made me a more empathetic person. I (personally) don’t think I have the worst temper, but like a lot of people, I often have trouble relating to others. When other people didn’t react the way I wanted to, be it my fault or not, it never occurred to me to actually listen and understand the other side’s story. I vividly remembered an incident in my freshman year at college, where I let my biased judgement got the better of me in my attempt to resolve a conflict in a club I was in. It was a classic case of the leader pushing the team too hard, and the other person who was more vocal spoke out and ignited the argument. The two seniors were arguing to the point the club was almost shut down, and I, foolish as I was, thought I could handle the situation and voiced out my opinion where I rooted for the vocal person. It was very easy to do so, after all, pretty much all other members were also burnt out, and we were not satisfied with how the club was managed. All fingers, therefore, pointed to the person who merely wished to improve the club’s performance. Naturally, it ended very badly.
I never thought too much about the incident until depression hit me in my face. Until I wished people would understand the hardship and struggle I was going through. Some people maybe good at articulating their thoughts and can stand up for themselves, but it becomes much more difficult when almost everyone around you doesn’t buy your story, and there are emotions flying all over, and you are depressed. Those are the times when one would shed tears of innocence and felt seriously misunderstood, yet beyond those tears, nothing else would come out.
It was after countless of those incidents that gradually, I realized my circumstance was not so unique after all. I thought that my suffering was different. I thought I was more excusable than the others. I thought all my actions were justified. And the realization dawned upon me — weren’t they the same thing my seniors felt years ago? Weren’t they the same thing all humans felt when everyone only accepts their version of truth?
And then I understood why many people don’t understand depression. A lot of people don’t understand certain pain, yet they could understand others, and the pain they can understand is almost always the kind that are similar to what they have gone through. One may know how heartbreak feels, but have trouble relating to people who deliberately hurt themselves. It’s the same thing — if I don’t know that some people will suffer from their circumstances, then naturally some people will also not know the pain depression has caused me.
But it goes even deeper than that — as I get to know more and more depressed people, I found that depression is just an umbrella, the way it manifests itself is different on the individual level. And it can be very different. Some people could function like a normal person, some people were completely debilitated. It is entirely possible.
It isn’t really about trying to make my pain stand out — it’s realizing that everyone truly suffers, in a way that’s not very quantifiable. If I wish that someone will have the heart to understand the degree of pain I am going through, then it follows that I should start to understand the pain of others. And it’s oddly liberating. It never occurred to me that when I began to emphatize with people who did not emphatize with me, I will actually feel less resentment towards them. I carry less hatred with me now, although admittedly, I still judge all the time.
So now, whenever I notice the feeling that what someone else does or feels does not make sense. Or when someone does things I see as irrational. Or I disagree with some people’s actions. I remind myself to leave room for interpretation.
Not my interpretation. Theirs. How? By truly listening. How? By being genuinely curious and concerned.