Please stop asking us how you can help us when we’re depressed. I know you mean well, but when we’re in a major depressive episode, we’re often plagued by fatigue and brain fog (among other things), and we just don’t have the energy or the clarity to think up ways you can help. It’s taking everything we have just to exist. But your questions have been on my mind a lot lately, so I used a recent bipolar high to come up with some ideas of how you can help someone with depression – without having to ask them.
Check in …
Don’t keep asking them how they’re doing; sometimes it feels like too much to articulate how we’re feeling, or too exhausting to keep giving the same answer, or to find a way to lie about it, (which we tend to do because we really don’t want to be feeling this way). But it is good to know we have your support, and you can show it in other ways.
Sometimes my husband just takes my hand and holds it, pouring his love into me without words. And although physical contact can be uncomfortable for us during these states, the experience of my hands being held by someone I love often makes me feel just that little bit stronger.
Just be conscious enough to read our cues, and compassionate enough to respond. If we don’t want to be held, let go. Put the cat on our lap instead. Or bring a pillow we can hug.
If you’re checking in on someone who doesn’t live with you, send a message every now and then. It could be as simple as, “Just checking in, hope you’re okay.” Simply let them know you’re thinking about them. And that you love them no matter what. Sometimes that’s enough. Even if it’s just an emoji.
Tell them what you see in them …
If you see strength, grace, wisdom, tenacity, or whatever inner beauty it is that you see in them, tell them. They probably don’t see what you see, especially now, but if you’re being authentic, and if they love and trust you, they might start to see it too. And that can create a little shift, stir a little hope, bring a little light.
Maybe they need to hear something like, “You’re still an amazing father – this doesn’t change who you are.”
Perhaps you could say something like, “I know you don’t feel like this right now, but I’ve seen your strength, you’re stronger than you know, and you will get through this.”
Or conversely, “You don’t have to be strong all the time. You can let go for a while, and if you fall, I’ll catch you. You’ve always been there for me, so let me be here for you now.”
Be conscious enough to meet them where they’re at. Drop it in a text if they’re not up for conversation.
And remind them that not every day will feel like this. Depression is so engulfing that it has us believing that this bleakness is all there is – and all there will ever be. But I promise you that’s a lie. Things do change. And we do get better. Sometimes it just takes a while.
Share some beauty …
The world is full of beautiful things; but depression makes us forget that. Know your person well enough to know what they love, then find it, and share it.
Whatever it is, share something uplifting. A cat meme. A video of a goat rescuing a chicken from a hawk. A photo of a beautiful sunset. A stirring real-life story. Silly jokes. Montages of humans helping each other. A show of love and kindness and strength. Anything moving or funny or beautiful. Anything that reminds us the world is still a magnificent place.
Share it without expectation. There may be no reaction, there probably won’t be a rush of gratitude, and there almost definitely won’t be some kind of spontaneous healing. But in this darkness, we’ll take all the hope we can get. For me, in episodes of depression, emotions like joy become concepts to me, things I can only grasp on an academic level, like a shadow desperately trying to understand the experience of a rainbow.
But keep sharing your love and all the world’s beauty … and know that in some small way, the corners of our hearts might be lifting, ever so gently.
Send them a song …
Music can be powerfully evocative. And healing. It’s been interwoven with our lives, our emotions, our expressions, and our identities for thousands of years. When I can tolerate it, the right music can be everything. Sometimes it’s the voice that expresses what I’m feeling, sometimes it can be profoundly cathartic, or a journey back to a moment in time. Sometimes it’s just the perfect lullaby, the warm cocoon in a cold world.
But don’t crank up your Bluetooth speaker just yet. Like many people with psychiatric disorders, my sensory processing becomes mangled during manic and depressive episodes, and this includes a hyposensitivity to music. So don’t storm in with the tunes, don’t demand that they listen. Just send them something. Phones, while notoriously antisocial, can be our safe barrier between the outside world and what we’re capable of handling in that moment. When we’re ready, we’ll listen.
And that song you send could be a song that reminds you of them, or a song of a memory you once shared. It could be a song that brought you through your own dark times. Or just a new track that you think they might like.
As always, offer it without expectation. Don’t harass them and ask them if they liked it or if it made them feel better. Just send it with love and the hope that it might bring an otherworldly and much-needed solace.
Evoke their inner child …
For me, the inner child is not a concept, it’s not simply a memory or a collection of experiences. The inner child is a part of us, a younger self we carry with us even if we’re not consciously aware of it. But that inner child needs healing just as much as we do. She needs to be acknowledged, loved, and revered. And most of all, she needs time to play.
The inner child is a creative force. Curious. Imaginative. Filled with wonder and potential. And connecting with our inner child through play is like coming home. This is different to therapy, where inner child work is about recognising and healing childhood trauma; this is simply about stepping into the part of ourselves that remembers uncomplicated joy.
So evoke that inner-child-like play and expression with a wild assortment of colouring books, fat crayons, giant scraps of paper, pots of paint, glue, glitter, charcoal, canvasses, playdough … whatever you can get your hands on.
Deliver it with a heart full of love and the freedom for them to do anything they want … or absolutely nothing at all.
Bring them back to nature …
There are countless books about the healing effects of nature on us humans, including “Your Brain On Nature: The Science of Nature’s Influence on Your Health, Happiness and Vitality” by Alan C Logan – which has been called “a powerful wake-up call for our tech-immersed society”.
For many of us, the path to recovery is through nature. It is a balm for fear, depression, anxiety, and stress. It brings us back to balance. And more and more researchers are out to prove it.
But while there may be parks for us to roam in, forest bathing practices nearby, and outdoor therapy of all kinds, when we’re depressed, we’re often fatigued, and as much as we would love to be outdoors and in nature, we just don’t have the energy or the inclination to drag ourselves out there. Sometimes even making it to the porch is too much for me.
So bring nature to the one you love. Flowers, a pot plant, a shell you collected or a pebble you polished. It can even be a giant poster of a forest that you stick up on a wall. It may not seem like much, but it’s so often the smallest things that matter most… and flutter loudest in our hearts.
Deliver green goddess goodness …
The relationship between nutrition and mental health is slowly gaining more attention, but I don’t need to be a scientist to know that when I don’t eat well, I feel worse. And that when I eat more earthy greenness (like the lovely, leafy spinach that is said to have anti-stress and anti-depressive effects), I feel better.
In fact, a friend of mine is so reactive to bread that if she eats a sandwich for lunch, she wakes up depressed the very next day.
But, hello irony, we tend to neither crave, nor have the energy to feed ourselves that kind of healthy goodness when we’re on a downward spiral.
So whip up a batch of spinach soup. Make an irresistible salad with lots of leafy greens. Make all kinds of fresh, earthy nourishment readily available. If you’re not around, deliver a green smoothie to their door for a week and you can help them get some of the natural medicine their minds and bodies need.
Offer some comfort …
You can bring physical comfort without being physical. Remember when I mentioned earlier that we might not want human contact during a depressive episode? It’s almost as if our skin is raw, and we’re too vulnerable. But that doesn’t mean that we don’t want – or need – comfort.
This is when my husband allows me to break the “no dogs in the bed” rule, and I cuddle up to their soft, warm bodies until we’re snoring softly together, ignoring the world for a while.
You don’t have to be a cat or a dog person though. Just think soft and warm. Like an enveloping hug from the most loving being ever. Like giant teddy bears, like fluffy blankets, like soft and fleecy nightgowns, cosy slippers, cotton sheets, overstuffed pillows … anything that you can think of that could bring a moment of comfort.
Make their bedroom, and their bed, especially, a soft, safe haven.
Remind them that you’re there for them …
Tell them that they can call you anytime to talk … or not talk. Tell them that even if they don’t want to say anything, you will be there, that you’ll be this love-filled person at the other end of the line, listening, that you will put your phone on speaker and lay down beside it and just listen, whether they cry and scream or say nothing at all, you will be there to witness it all, if that’s what they need.
But as I keep saying, whatever you do, be conscious enough to meet us where we’re at.
Sometimes even just replying to a message can feel like too much for us, so try to respect that. We all have a process. But if you’re really worried about someone, and they’re not on any medication, or in any kind of therapy, get some professional guidance and try to get your person some help.
And remember, maybe more than anything, that as much as you would love to wave a magic wand and make everything okay, you don’t have to fix us. That’s not your job. You can’t “fix” us. You can’t fix anyone. You can only be the healing for yourself. But you can be there to witness ours.
Because I will always believe that we can all find healing.
Ps. Thank you for being there for someone who is depressed. I know it’s not easy to live with people who have mental health issues and psychiatric disorders. You are our warriors in the moments we can’t be that for ourselves.
