When Depression Meets Grief: A Complex PTSD Tragedy
A final Facebook conversation.
One night in February, I sent my friend Joyce a Facebook message. There was no awkward small talk: she quickly dove into conversation with me. She told me about her ailments (which landed her in a nursing home) and how she missed wearing her jewelry because it wasn’t too practical to don jewelry while she lay in bed receiving dialysis and wound dressage. I told her about my success with therapy, and I encouraged her to seek out therapy for her trauma as well.
She comfortably admitted to me that she was reaching a point where she could tell people about her past abuse. I was grateful she had gotten to that stage and that I had helped her in some way.
We bonded over a shared love for jewelry and confessed she would be jealous if I sent her photos of my fine jewelry collection. I giggled once I read the message, her infectious elation over baubles was impossible to not be charmed by.
Her ability to find pleasure and joy in small things pierced the deep and ghastly barrier of depression and despair I was trapped in. It was lovely, stirring, and healing to speak to Joyce and bond with her through such a charming conversation.
Unbeknownst to me, it would be our last direct conversation.
She Was Ill
Within the next 2 weeks, Joyce’s medical condition accelerated towards catastrophic heights. She endured more surgeries, more bedbound days receiving wound care and dialysis. She endured days where she could not eat solid food, and her sister Susan ardently updated Joyce’s page to let all her friends know what was happening and how her condition was ameliorating.
It Was All Too Much For Her
I was hopeful she would gradually convalesce. In the past, she was a trooper and a fighter, pulling through every hospital visit and surgery despite being debilitated and languorous. This time….it was too much for her body. Two days after my birthday, she passed on. We were all aware it was possible, but every person who knew her was inconsolable. I was no exception.
She Was Good and Decent
At the beginning of the year, I was laid off from my job. It was a position that brought me financial security, but it put me in physical proximity to my abuser. The relentless verbal and psychological abuse, as well as the sexual harassment, exacerbated my complex PTSD and depression.
I was glad to have Joyce in my life to remind me that there were good and kindhearted people in the world. I don’t have Joyce anymore, only the memory of her. What remains is my deep, bottomless, vacuum of depression…now acquainted with Grief.
Grief, Say Hello to Depression
Anyone who lives with mental health issues, especially trauma, and depression, already knows that overfilled plates can topple over and fall. Losing a loved one, especially a person who made one feel amazing, wanted, and respected, is devastating. It’s incredibly tough for trauma survivors who have a history of encountering meanspirited and cruel people.
The loss (in these cases) almost feels doubled up in pain and unfairness: just when we thought we finally made it home, everything is gone. We are back where we started, and we have one less friend to count on.
Healing Myself
What will I do without Joyce? I’m letting myself feel the grief. I feel lost for now. One day I will be unlost. I have to continue healing. She would want me to heal and be whole. I will let myself feel the grief. Grief exists because affection exists and we can feel it for others. I will continue speaking out against abuse so that what was done to Joyce won’t happen to other children. I sincerely hope Joyce is resting peacefully and she knows that I deeply care for her. I hope I can rest and be at peace someday too.
Here is my plan for healing from grief while living with depression:
I will let myself feel my feelings. I will not hold back my emotions.
I will let grief come in waves and not deny its existence. I will not pretend I don’t feel the sadness.
I will let myself be human and have days where I can’t function. I will not beat myself up for being unproductive.
I will continue to work on my mental health plan and heal myself.
I will give myself time.
I will admit that I miss Joyce a lot. That’s okay. I’m not “weak” for missing her all the time.
If you’re ever in a situation where you need to grieve while living with depression, I hope you give yourself time as well.
© Christina Zamir 2023
Christina Zamir is a writer and mental health advocate based in NYC. She floats around on the Internet and dispenses surprisingly helpful advice sometimes. Her eclectic and personal writing can be perused at Writer in Reverie. Her other ventures include content creating at First Sky Studios and soapmaking at Duchess of Soapshire. You can subscribe to her future published works here.
