Dear Babies: It does get better, I promise.
It has taken me 13 years to take ownership of my status as a survivor of suicide and as someone who has long battled clinical depression.
While I now manage my mental health the same way that I manage everything else of importance in my life - with rigor, dedication, and organization - it is still something that takes a degree of bravery to admit, particularly in the professional setting. Why, though? Why am I worried about the way others might perceive me if I share my battles with depression? My depression does not make me a bad lawyer. It might make me anti-social or unwilling to engage in "fun" activities, but it certainly doesn't take away from my professional competence. Forget the gaggles of celebrities that have shared their struggles with depression, but ordinary professionals like local lawyers are still banned from using the words “depression” if they want to be taken seriously.
Well, that stops here for me. I’m a good lawyer, and yes, I suffer from depression. Will that make a difference in terms of how I represent you? No. Will it make any difference in our relationship as a client-attorney? No.
I’m tired of the arbitrary tie between depression and incompetence. Depression is a disease.
In 2017, according to the National Institute of Mental Health, “an estimated 17.3 million adults in the United States had at least one major depressive episode. This number represented 7.1% of all U.S. adults.”
I want to tell you a story about a girl and a boy. The boy and girl met on a spring break mission trip to Mexico. She was sad when they met, unwilling to let light into her world after being jaded by her brief time in high school. What the girl did not know was that the boy - beyond his beautiful smile and laughing eyes – the boy was also sad. His heart was also broken, his body worn, and his mind intertwined in the embrace of pain.
The boy offered to fix her. He wanted to heal her wounds, sew them back together and make her whole again.
After much reluctance from the girl, the two fell in love, but their love was tainted. It was tainted with the sadness, the depression that each of them brought into the room, their individual sorrows festering untended. They found comfort in the other’s pain. Together, they dredged through the days of hopelessness, worthlessness and helplessness. Together, they somehow found joy, even though shrouded by sadness.
Together, they survived for some time, but barely. Together they ran, hand in hand, tears upon tears, into the tunnel where there is no light. Each brought the other’s deeply embedded pain to the surface. To the other, each offered comfort, validation, empathy, love without conditions.
Both took medication. Both saw therapists. Both felt alone all the time, even when with the other, but at least there was some peace, some validation, a steadfast feeling of community, when they were alone together. Their positive regard for the other was unconditional, their love without qualification.
On March 12, 2005, the boy and the girl had an argument. The girl, 2 grades older, had to go to college before the boy would finish high school. Fearful of their upcoming separation, she thought there was a need to start creating some space between them, in spite of their deep love. Neither of them wanted to be without the other, but they no longer knew how to survive the darkness together.
That same day, the boy took a drive where he encountered a beautiful, sagacious tree, a tree that had long lingered in his thoughts and his dreams. And into the arms of that tree, he drove until his life was no more.
There was no more darkness for the boy, but there was no more light. His pain was gone, but gone too was his joy, his laughing eyes, his unconditional love, his light. For the girl, life would never be the same. Her heart would never find love like theirs again. People would blame her for his death because of their argument, and she would come to realize that their blame was nothing but a reflection of their own pain, not of her relationship with the boy. Their love was difficult and authentic. It was deep, filled with pain, but also filled with laughter, comfort, music, kindness. She was not to blame, nor was he. They were lucky to have had each other for the year that they did.
15 years have passed since I lost him, and his smile crosses my mind every day. I used to fear the moments when I would, coincidentally, see the clock turn to 3:12 pm, or when I would think of him during a moment of joy. Now, I treasure those moments because his memory is a blessing.
I will never forget to remember the fantasy of what he could be today and the reality of the fact that he will never experience the joy of living. He was, and remains, the great love of my life, and I was lucky to know him for one blessed year. He no longer felt the darkness, but he could never again see the light. I wish he could be here, that the world could benefit from his dedication to gender parity, to male mentorship, to making the world a better place with laughter and dialogue. He made me feel like I could do anything, and I gave him my whole heart and have yet to take it back.
15 years later, I am finally writing this story, albeit in brief, because so many people I know suffer quietly from depression, so many strong, successful people that I know have confessed to me their daily struggles with depression, with managing their pain, their grief, their feelings of helplessness, hopelessness, and worthlessness. I am writing this story to you, my friends, so you know that you are not alone. I am with you. So many of us are with you. Your pain may be silent, but you do not have to bear it alone.
When I lost Reed in 2005, depression and suicide were still stigmatic topics, dark issues that few were ready to discuss in a real way. Now, with the abundance of popular media covering suicide, it seems less stigmatic, but the lessening of the stigma has not lessened the rates of suicidality.
I still have no solutions. All I have are pieces of life that have worked and didn't work, and I believe it is incumbent on me, as a survivor, to share these with anyone who is struggling with depression. The beautiful thing is that there are so many resources now that didn't exist for us 15 years ago, in spite of the systems around us trying to do the best they could. I want to take this opportunity to share some of those resources because I know that so many of you are either dealing with depression or know someone that is and want to help.
University of Michigan's Depression Center offers a variety of educational resources, as well as a self-assessment tool for depression. Visit their website here.
If you know someone who is dealing with depression, you might be feeling alone without knowing where to go. I've been there. It's scary. There are options available to you, but you have to take the first step by making the call.
I'm sorry that life has put you in this position, but with the right next steps, you can get help take steps to get your loved one the help they need. You are not alone, and you are not responsible for everything that is going on. Don't take that blame upon yourself. Trust me. It's not what your loved one would want. I've spent years struggling with the completely unnecessary blame of Reed's death, and I don't think that is what he would have wanted for me in the years spent without him. Let the guilt go. Just be there as best as you can, and use the resources available to you. Be proactive. I am unashamed of my past, of the fact that I loved a man who died by suicide, that I failed to save him from that fate, that I also have suffered depression, that I cannot save others because I am only human. I am unashamed. Join me here.
Talk to someone and use the resources available to you. Don't discount the other people in your life that want to help you. It doesn't have to be family. It can be a counselor. It can be a teacher. It can be a mentor. It can be your neighbor. Talk to someone. Make your friend to the self-assessment through the UM Depression Center. Do some research and understand the symptoms of depression. There are many comprehensive spaces online to understand what to look for and how to get help for yourself, for your friend, for whomever needs it. There is no such thing as being too safe when it comes to protecting your loved ones from the darkness of depression.
I watched 13 Reasons Why, which was a powerful way to bring to light many of the issues that the survivors of suicide navigate and some of the issues that people who die by suicide may face. But, I think it's crucial that we recognize that many people suffering from depression suffer from depression for reasons less obvious, more ambiguous. For many of us left in the wake of suicide, we don't get one reason why, much less 13.
Just because your pain doesn't fit within a narrative offered by popular media doesn't mean that your pain is somehow irrelevant or unworthy of acknowledgment. You deserve to find happiness and freedom from depression. You deserve support and love unconditional. You deserve everything and more, but I want to encourage you, from the sincerest place in my heart, to ask for help. It doesn't have to be big or dramatic. Just call a friend.
If you make that call, things will get better. You just have to hope. And, as Reed loved to repeat the Latin phrase:
Dum Spiro Spero.
As we breath, we hope.
Don't give up hope. Ask for help. And, if you need it, I'm always here for you too. I’m not just some preachy voice from above. If you need to talk, call me / email me. You're not alone.
Be there for your friends, even when you don’t understand what they are going through. The little things count, and above all else, show up for them. Stay strong. I promise, babies, it gets better.
With love, and yours always,
Priti
aka The Boss Lady’s Lawyer + Your Friend
