Shepherd’s Pie Stuffed Baked Potatoes

Hello Darkness, my old friend. Depression is a yearly unwelcome houseguest in my brain. Every winter, I try to lie as still as possible, hoping that it will think I’m not at home and move along. But depression is part of my human condition, and it seems I’m always nominated to be President of the League. While I don’t usually talk openly about mental health, this year has been different. I believe there are benefits in speaking out to others to let them know they are not alone. This year has been hard for many, and you, or someone you know, maybe experiencing depression for the first time.

A subject that was once inconceivable to discuss publicly is now acknowledged and spoken about freely. Interestingly, though, some people can discuss at a dinner party their cancer, heart conditions, or dementia but bring up the subject of depression and watch some people squirm in their seats, have a few more sips of their wine, or try to frantically change the subject.

Depression comes in three basic forms: genetic, seasonal, and situational. I fall somewhere between the first and second categories and mainly suffer from Seasonal Affective Disorder, otherwise known as SAD. I cannot think of a more appropriate acronym. SAD is a type of depression that occurs at the same time each year, typically in winter. It can significantly impact your mood, sleep, appetite, and energy levels, affecting various aspects of your life, including your relationships, social activities, work, school, and overall sense of self-worth. During the winter months, you may feel like a completely different person compared to how you feel in the summer—experiencing feelings of hopelessness, sadness, tension, or stress and losing interest in friends and activities you usually enjoy. For many individuals, symptoms often start mildly in the fall and worsen as winter progresses. However, these symptoms typically subside by spring or early summer, leading to a period of remission where you feel normal and healthy again.

Seasonal depression has always been a part of my life and was noticeable by my parents as a very small child. My depression often resembles a cloak made of my worst nightmares, sneaking into my waking life until I feel completely enveloped by it. Strangely, there is also a sense of comfort in this experience. I know it inside and out; I’ve encountered that darkness so frequently that it can feel like a blanket, muting every other emotion or thought.

There are no surprises anymore, as I have heard and felt it all before. It’s like the childhood monster that lived under your bed. As soon as your feet hit the floor, you are convinced it will swallow you whole – and depression does. You simply disappear. The joy I feel when depression is hidden away can be overwhelming. In those moments, it’s easy to forget that depression ever touched my life at all. However, when depression is present, it’s the complete opposite. I forget that there was ever a time when I felt differently, and nothing can silence the negative thoughts that play in my head.

Sometimes, it feels less like a voice and more like a movie, with scenes of rejection, failure, humiliation, and exclusion—real or imagined—repeated on a loop until I can only hate myself. Sometimes, there’s no specific trigger for my feelings; I simply find myself trapped in a dark place, with only the option of sleeping or crying until my head begins to pound. On those days, just getting out of bed feels like a significant achievement.

Depression includes a range of emotions, but it is more than just insecurity or anxiety. It is a more profound sorrow than any grief I have ever experienced. It also involves anger, yet it is more unsettling than any rage I have known. It is a kind of loneliness beyond being single or alone. I've noticed moments of indifference and hopelessness creeping in, reminiscent of my past struggles with depression. It's as if all my past pain intensifies, but I know there’s always hope for brighter days ahead. I feel that familiar weight, but I firmly believe in the power of resilience. Even when things get tough, I remain committed to seeking relief and joy, knowing that brighter moments are possible and this journey has the potential for renewal and healing. You live stuck in a world where it aches to be alive, but you are too afraid to die.

Perhaps you can relate to my experiences. Maybe you, too, feel as though you are facing the darkness of depression alone. It can be difficult for those who haven’t experienced it to truly understand our feelings, making reaching out for help even harder. I often need a reminder, and I’d like to share this with you: You are not alone.

I've learned from failed relationships that being transparent to friends and family is important when you feel the darkness taking hold. Exposure can make you feel vulnerable but can also prevent misunderstanding once the light pulls you back to safety. You have a sense of responsibility to let your loved ones know that you may disappear for a while and that you are dealing with interpersonal demons. Let them know it’s safe for them to be a lifeline at a distance and to not take the detachment personally. If someone you care about is experiencing depression, especially if they are struggling without a clear reason for it, the most important thing you can do is to be a compassionate and active listener.

You may not always know how to support someone dealing with depression, and if your attempts to help them are rejected or don’t seem effective, it can lead to frustration and impatience. If you feel tempted to tell someone who is depressed to "try harder" or "just snap out of it," it might indicate that you are feeling overwhelmed or burnt out. When this happens, it’s essential to take a moment to reflect on your own feelings. You won’t be able to help someone else until you address your emotional needs.

When you’re worried about a loved one, your feelings of fear can sometimes come across as anger during conversations. Even if you are not genuinely angry, depression can make it more difficult for someone to fully understand what you are trying to say. They might interpret your words as dismissive, accusatory, or disappointing, which may not accurately reflect your intentions.

When talking to someone with depression, it's essential to keep the context in mind, as misunderstandings can happen frequently. While you may feel inclined to point out the positive aspects of life or say things like "it could be worse," such comments often aren't helpful for someone who is experiencing depression.

Comparing their pain to someone else's (or even your own) may be an attempt to offer perspective, but it can come across as minimizing their experience. This might worsen their struggle to understand their own feelings and could lead to increased guilt. As a consequence, the person might withdraw further.

That said, you shouldn’t neglect your own emotional needs or suppress your feelings. Keeping the lines of communication open is essential; it helps your loved one feel safe discussing their struggles and expressing the desire for help when they are ready. If you are concerned about their well-being, maintaining a connection can reassure you about their safety.

Anxiety and depression are my quiet, unwanted companions that bring turbulence and struggle into my life. While I may still not fully understand why I have been dealt this hand, I have realized what I need to fight for. When the fog lifts, I laugh, live, and love even more deeply because I don’t know how long those moments will last. Those moments are everything to me. Would I wish my anxiety and depression away? Absolutely. But at the same time, would I appreciate these other aspects of life as much as I do without them? I don’t know, so I continue to fight and learn with each battle, much like my father and grandmother before me.

When the light dims and I feel the shadows, I acknowledge it; I sit with it. I simply say, Darkness, do what you need to do: make me stronger and then fade into the background again. You see, I have some very important living to get back to. When the light returns, I find that I was never truly alone. So many of you were standing right there beside me. And while I expect depression to return year after year, I hope the next time Darkness falls, I won’t feel so alone when I'm obligated to catch it.