On Depression
Contents:
1. On depression
2. Supplements and herbs for depression
3. Other things that can help
4. Sadness is a thing that unites us and makes us human
1. On depression
I was taught, about depression, that it is a thing that happens *to* us: an imbalance in our neurotransmitters that we cannot really do anything about. In the crapshoot of life, if your neurotransmitters decide to break on you then you are screwed, and will forever have to look out for the signs of becoming depressed. For years I believed this, and lived my life either miserable, or in fear of impending misery.
Every time I realised I was happy, on its heels came dread, because I knew that it wouldn't last, because it was nothing to do with me or my life, but an arbitrary thing that could be taken away as easily as it had showed up.
Over the years, I’ve learned more (from studying different healing modalities, and from working with clients). I realise now that the basic premise under which I learned about depression was wrong.
Depression happens for a reason.
To be clear there is nothing wrong with taking antidepressants and I'm not an anti-medication herbalist at all-- we all do what we need to to get by in the world. But, we have much more control over our emotional outlook than we are taught. So the purpose of this little blurb is not to be anti-pharmaceutical but more like ‘here are some other options to explore before you start blaming your chemistry’ or even ‘maybe there are reasons why my chemistry is the way it is’.
There are often very real reasons for us to become depressed. I’ve separated the main reasons I see into categories:
-External factors
-Internal factors
-Things you are doing
-Lack of optimal environment
-Brain wiring
External factors (life circumstances)
It is often hard for people to see the external factors in their lives that are making them miserable. This is in part because we are very adaptable creatures, and our brains are very good at making us comfortable with our situations, even if they are not comfortable. We fear what we can't know and understand, and for so many of us, we’d rather stay in the unpleasant known than risk something new, and it potentially being worse.
It doesn’t matter how good your life is if its not the life you want. In our insta-world we are often told what we *should* want, through the images we’re constantly being bombarded with. For many people, achieving the pinnacle of getting those images for ourselves feels like it should be the end to our struggles. Many people get there and realise they’re unhappy, then feel guilty for that unhappiness. And I don't know how else to say this but to say it: it doesn't matter what anyone else thinks they would be grateful for, if it is making you unhappy, or is an albatross instead of something that makes you feel fulfilled, then it's not right, for you, in its current incarnation. That doesn't mean 'ok walk away from your responsibilities’: you’ve made your bed; but it does mean that it's worth looking to see what you want to change. It might not even be able to change (at least not immediately). But when you acknowledge what's wrong and at least know that if you could you would change it, that's a big empowering step that can on its own help to ease the chokehold of depression.
One of the more empowering things you can do is to realise that you're in a situation you don't like, but actively choose to stay in it for X, Y or Z reasons, as opposed to being in the situation, feeling like it can't change, and feeling powerless and victimized by it. Sometimes, upon having a good look, you realise that the current choice worth the sacrifice because it gets you something else that you really want— so for example, your job might make you miserable, but then when you look at your paycheck and realise what lifestyle that paycheck affords you, it might actually be worth it to you to put up with the job. On the other hand, you might weigh the two up and go ‘you know what, I’d rather move into my friend’s basement than have this job’ and then you know your answer too. Or maybe you hate your jobs but want to put your kids into a good school. Remembering WHY you do the things you don’t like gives you a reason to keep going, so that it doesn’t feel pointless and make you feel small and powerless (but at the same time maybe be looking for a new job, yeah?).
This slight change of perspective is more empowering, even though the situation might have to remain the same for a while. Realising that you have a choice, and still choosing where you are is a way out of victimhood, and for so many of us, especially in modern society, our perception of powerlessness is one of the things that depresses us the most.
The other thing is that we often fear that if we do go for the changes we want, after all this upheaval, we might not feel any better.
If that happens... so what?
Really. So what? You made a change, and it didn't work. Make another one. Keep looking and listening to yourself anyway, refining your choices along the way. We can't all do it perfectly the first time, and not every decision needs to be permanent. Look at it like a ‘contentment experiment’, and be willing to be wrong, and to keep looking, but don't give up on finding the things that you want in life. At the same time, don’t delude yourself— if you keep making changes, and getting these things that you really want, and then feeling empty inside, then it might not be your external circumstances at all. It might be you. Just not in the ‘you are broken’ sense and more in the ‘there’s something deeper happening here’ sense.
Internal factors (trauma, old grief, etc)
When we experience something traumatic in life, the thing that makes it a ‘trauma’ as opposed to ‘a thing that happened that we don’t think about anymore’ is the fact that it was, in some way or another, too much. Too much pain, too much grief, too much stimulation, too much information. We feel as though we cannot process it at the time it happens, and so it becomes something we mentally revisit again and again, often when we encounter something that ‘triggers’ this memory. One of the other things that happens with trauma is that it can start to make us feel as though there’s something deeply wrong with us when this happens. Sometimes deep, old trauma leaves some unresolved grief at our core, and we get on with life, and keep moving forwards, not feeling it a lot of the time… until we are still, or silent, or at moments when we are ‘supposed’ to be happy. And it creeps up. Almost like a warning signal in the back of our minds reminding us not to let down our guards. Sometimes this pattern is created so early in life that it doesn’t even come with conscious memory, so we feel as though we’ve always been like this.
Sometimes we need to touch on the deep grief at our core, and allow ourselves to feel it fully, to learn that it isn’t *us*, it’s just something deeply familiar and so deep that it feels like us.
I find that most of the people I see experiencing depression experience something like this and feel broken as a result. The other, very real part of this is that we are really, truly terrible in our society at dealing with grief. We’re given a short window to grieve then are expected to get back to ‘normal’, regardless of the fact that trauma or loss changes us forever. We are so afraid of feeling our own grief deeply that we block it off even from ourselves, and then, to make things worse, when someone else is experiencing deep grief, it touches our own and makes us uncomfortable yet again, so we can’t fully sit with another person who is also grieving. This makes us feel like our pain is isolating, instead of something that can, over time, when it’s not quite so PRESENT, deepen the beauty of our lives. We grieve because we love. We miss things because we experienced true joy with them. We feel the loss of our innocence sharply and mourn. If we don’t run from our pain, it can become our ally, and inform the world around us, and deepen our connection to it, and add a layer of beauty that would never be there otherwise. And if we allow our pain in, then we can start to feel true gratitude for the moments of joy that we experience, because we know how fleeting this beauty can be.
Lack of optimal environment. (I’ve put this in a separate category though it definitely can be included with external factors or things you do.)
Orcas in captivity are prone to dorsal fin collapse— a phenomenon in which the fin on their back that is usually proud and upright flops over. Scientists have mulled over the different possible reasons for this collapsing, ranging from ‘swimming in small circles due to captivity’ to ‘lack of deep water pressure due to swimming close to surface due to captivity’. But one of the emerging theories about it is that it’s caused by stress and depression. People studying the Orcas are quick to say that ‘the collapsed fin doesn’t affect the health of the Orca’, and would be quick to say the same about depression in humans, except, external markers of health are not indicators of how you feel, and I’m sure if you’ve ever experienced depression you can safely say that you might be ‘healthy’ but you sure as hell don’t feel it.
We, human beings, need time in nature. We need connection with other people. We need people we can confide in, touch and have affection with. We need movement. Deficiency of any of these things that create an optimal environment for us can make us feel incredibly depressed, but for some reason, we feel like these things are indulgences that we shouldn’t ‘need’ in order to get along in society.
But imagine if that Orca was like ‘man, I don’t know why I can’t adjust to swimming in circles in this soup bowl, it doesn’t make sense. Why do I long for the ocean when I have this perfectly adequate pool, and people who feed me thawed fish every day? I live in the lap of luxury, and have a million fans, there’s something wrong with me that I am not thriving!’. We’d all tell the Orca to shut up, because its a damn Orca and not meant to live at Sea World. That’s so obvious. Yet when it comes to us, we don’t think this way. I don’t know what your ‘ideal’ environment would be— we humans are so diverse and so lucky as to have all kinds of different choices. But if you’re beating your head against a wall trying to make life work but secretly longing for something else, it might not be you, it might be your environment, and that is something that can be [over time, usually] changed.
Things you are doing (habits that are bad for you, thought patterns that lead you into a pit of misery and self-loathing)
Our brains do this fascinating thing where they form networks (like for example, a specific thought -> a specific feeling), and so even if we manage to sort out all the other stuff, sometimes we need to re-train our brains to stop thinking the thoughts that make us miserable in the first place. I read somewhere (I think it was a Brianna Weist article) that our own emotions actually have a lifespan of 90 seconds or so, but the mental feedback loops we create for ourselves can keep these emotions running for wayyyyy longer by re-triggering the emotions over and over again. Focusing on the old pathways reinforces said pathways; creating new ones gives our brains different options to choose when it comes time to react to something. I’ve found meditation (mindfulness meditation, loving kindness meditation, gratitude meditations specifically) to help dramatically when it comes to finding new ways to think about the world. The added benefit of this is that these new ways of thinking feel good.
Things that can contribute to old thought patterns that don’t feel good: TV shows, THE NEWS (capitalised because, come on, it’s always upsetting), magazines, social media, old friends. Pay attention to your thought patterns when you engage in things. Does a certain person on Instagram always make you feel bad about yourself? Un-follow them. Does an old friend always play to your worst insecurities? Real-life unfriend them. Can’t get someone out your life? Tell them to stop talking about certain things with you. And, find things that make you feel good: follow accounts that inspire you, read books that make you feel good, find sources for news stories that are not going to horrify you and send you into a tailspin. It doesn’t need to be all ‘love and light’— being aware of what’s happening in the world is important, but depending on how deep your depression is, you might need to take a break. When you come back to it, find sources of information that are not going to trigger you.
What you feed your brain is nutrition for your emotional state. Find mental ‘foods’ that start to make you feel good. I don’t mean putting on the song ‘Happy’ and smiling and pretending its all ok. That’s going to make you feel worse in the long-run because it’ll make apparent how far there is between how you feel and how you wish you were. But from the depths of emotional hell, try and find small things to be grateful for. Try and find small pleasures. Small things that you genuinely want. You don’t need to climb out of the pit all in one go, but look for what feels slightly better than where you are now.
Brain wiring
This is actually the area that is the most fascinating to me lately. Our brains get wired to respond in certain ways, to tread the same paths over and over again, and those paths start to feel incredibly comfortable (even if we hate them), so comfortable that to try and tread another path feels almost dangerous, or impossible, or like another path doesn't exist.
Learning that emotional pathways get reinforced, and then difficult to break, completely changed my life. Learning that emotional pathways are reinforced by thought patterns, and the things we think about and focus on, changed my life even more. Sometimes, if all the other stuff is sorted out, and the lingering feelings are still there, it might be your brain, stuck in a rut, and having a hard time knowing another way to be. For a situation like this, I've found brain rewiring (changing behaviours, thoughts, and reinforcing new pathways often) to be an absolute life-changer.
2. Herbs, supplements for depression.
Omegas
There's evidence to suggest that depression is actually caused by inflammation, and that taking Omega 3 fatty acids dramatically help to reduce depression when inflammation is the cause.
B vitamins.
Take a B multi. Evidence shows that deficiency in B vitamins can lead to depression (especially B6, B12). Make sure that it's a methylated form of vitamin B. I like Thorne B complex.
HERBS
St John's wort // Hypericum perforatum
Hypericum is one of those herbs that's known in non-herbal circles as a 'herb for depression'. I remember trying it in the late 1990s because I suffered from severe depression. It made my belly area cramp like crazy, so I stopped taking it, even though I had actually started to feel really good. I didn't think much more about it until years later, when I'd learned a lot more about herbs than 'x treats y', and started thinking about grief, depression and the solar plexus. You see the solar plexus area in our bodies is where our willpower comes from. It's where we interpret information and make decisions and then put the energy out into the world to act on those decisions. A lot of depression that I see comes from a blockage, of sorts, in this area: where there's something getting in the way of a person's being able to act directly in their own life. This makes one feel powerless, and there's little more to make you depressed and hate your life than feeling powerless.
There's another aspect to this, however. Many of us, when facing pain, tend to disassociate. For some its dramatic (ie. diagnosable), for others maybe less so, but the underlying principle is the same: I don't want to feel this so I'm going to leave. Our bellies, our solar plexes, our information processing centers, are the easiest for us to check out of because it's the deep, dark, FEELING place in our bodies, that can't be rationalised away.
St. John's wort directs energy back to the solar plexus. Gently but firmly. It directs energy back to the place where we have gut feelings, and underneath those gut feelings is a place of surrender and trust, where we trust ourselves and our bodies to know, to feel, to guide us. As a result of energy flowing back in a place where it's not been for a while, energy in our belles and trunks start moving more, resulting in less stagnation, and the lessening of that stagnation leads to less teary fits, less frustrated outbursts. But, the real gift is an ability to process feelings directly, and stay with them.
For more staying power, I like to combine with aralia (racemosa or Californica).
Read more: Kiva Rose's article
Found in: Into the deep: Grief support formula
(oplopanax photo by Leslie Leskos)
Oplopanax horridus // devil's club
I feel a bit strange writing about devil's club as it's not a plant I live near or gather myself. I've never even seen it in the wild. And yet, I use it (sent to me fresh by herbalist friends in the Pacific Northwest), and have had some amazing experiences with it, and feel it would be a shame to leave it out here simply because it's not one that I personally interact with in the wild.
Oplopanax is one of those plants that draws reverence from herbalists-- a 'power' plant, if you will.
One of the reasons I think oplopanax is so incredibly powerful is that it's connection in our energy is to our deepest sense of who we are-- the part of ourself that has no words to describe it, but just *is*. It's the us when we were born, the us that is free of constraint and 'shoulds' and trauma and fear. It's our past and our potential, all wrapped into one. That part of ourselves is always there, but for most people it's buried quite deeply. It's an energy that exists deep at our core, and emerges from our ancestry and our blood, and it blossoms in our chests, driving us forward even if we can no longer feel or hear it speaking to us. Devil's club connects us to that part of ourselves.
One of the nice side effects of this connection is that things can no longer hurt us as much. My friend Sean Donahue uses it often in a similar way, saying "Devil's Club brings me the protection to concentrate on raising and standing in my own power without the distraction of worrying about judgements and ill intentions being directed toward me." (from here).
On a more physical level, oplopanax is used to balance blood sugar levels, to treat infections, to help raise energy levels over time in exhaustion. Among many other things. It's an amazing, powerful plant, and one I feel very grateful to receive boxes of in the mail.
Read more: Ryan Drum's article
Found in: Root + Heart, Douglas fir, oplopanax, hawthorn mist, Forest Soak
Hawthorn // Crataegus spp.
Heart-friend and support for the grief state, hawthorn is like the hug you receive when you've been holding yourself together, feeling alone and unstable, that finally allows you to let yourself fall apart. When you have to go in and delve into the deepest, darkest parts of yourself, hawthorn is a supportive anchor saying 'You've got this; I won't let you fall apart completely'.
How it does this, I have no idea, but I have an analogy that I like. When we fall apart due to grief, it's like most of our entirety gets swept away in a tsunami of it. It swallows us, breaks us into pieces, dashes us against the rocks, and washes us up on the shore, battered and broken. But as we're being pulled to pieces, there's always that constant thrum in the background that's 'you' there. I mean, it's the constant that most of us aren't even aware of because we're so caught up with the surface stuff (I am my job, I am what I wear, I am my reactions, I am my gender, I am my sexuality, I am gay/straight/poly/queer/neurodivergent/cis/trans/alawyer/adoctor/adeskjockey/acashier/ajock/anartist/aniceperson/abadperson/lonely/confident/cool/aplantperson/rich/poor/inarelationship/loved/etcetcetc. Except, if we were to chip away at every single self-identifier we have, we'd still be there, still exist, still be *us*. When our lives fall apart, either in grand explosive fashion or in little pieces, and when WE fall apart as a result, that nugget of 'us' at the center of our being remains constant. And it's that nugget of 'us'ness that hawthorn connects to and strengthens, so that the rest of us can fall to pieces around it. If our entire being was a map and the 'you are here' sign moved around on said map depending on how we feel on any given day, hawthorn points to the land itself so that the lines on the paper can dissolve and rearrange themselves.
Read more: Kate Clearlight's article
Found in: Heart + Happy, Douglas fir, oplopanax, hawthorn mist, Root & Heart
Rose // Rosa spp.
I talk about rose a LOT in my newsletters, most likely because it's one of my favourite plants (one of almost everyone's favourites, no?). Not just because it's beautiful and it smells good and gathering it in the summers is a transcendent experience, but because it's such a little [gentle] powerhouse.
Rose, like hawthorn, offers spiritual heart support. Unlike hawthorn, it relaxes and unwinds the tension that we hold in our chests and diaphragms that often prevent us from fully letting go. And in order to grieve, you sorta have to be able to let go. Rose is also sweet medicine. What I mean by that is that it's so soothing and gentle. Have you ever felt so close to tears then thought 'I can't have anyone be nice to me right now because I'll lose it?' it's rose that's nice to you. It's rose that reminds you of self-love and the love of others, and allows that love to blossom in your chest and quite frankly when you're trying to hold it all together, you're not looking at love, you're looking at getting through.
Rose is especially useful where there's fear of the pain, and fear of getting hurt again that causes you to close off even more. Fear of FEELING, really, where you create a hard shell around your heart so that you can carry on as you were. Rose helps to soften those barriers, so that you can feel again.
The thing with both rose and hawthorn is that they don't reduce you to a blubbering wreck all the time. But taking them for support through a grieving process will allow you to live from that place of sadness. This sounds weird, I know-- we're taught that grief has a place and it's behind closed doors-- but the healthiest way to grieve is to let it permeate your being. Let it influence the way you see the world. Not to make the world flat, but to enrich it, deepen the colours, deepen the feelings. There's something infinitely beautiful about what can be uncovered in that darkness.
Read more: The comforts of rose
Found in: Ocotillo + Rose Heart Center Elixir, rose & sandalwood body oil, rose & sandalwood bath soak, wild rose elixir, rose & geranium facial mist, smoky rose anointing oil
Conifers
Nothing beats getting outside into nature, for some one-on-one time with the planet, especially if you happen to have access to a conifer forest. The smells of pine, fir, spruce, are invigorating and uplifting to the spirits. These trees are also big and old and deeply rooted and, in my opinion, connect us all to some deeper, older wisdom than we are capable of finding with our silly human brains. But that's not all. conifers are incredibly medicinal: the entire plant contains so much medicine: the needles are rich in antioxidants, vitamins, flavonoids, and minerals, and the needles and resins are anti-viral, and anti-inflammatory. The thing that I find the most amazing about conifers though is that, even SMELLING conifers is enough to have some of the mood-uplifting and stress-reducing effects that one would receive while walking in the forest.
Read more: Gather Victoria
Found in: Forest Soak, Conifer body oil, Conifer deodorant, Smoky bourbon pine bitters,
3. Other essential things for depression
None of these are one-time cure-alls, but when done consistently they can slowly drag you out of the pit. When you've been depressed for a long time, there's also an element of patterning there- your brain literally creates pathways that it automatically repeats on a daily basis, so you have to train it to create NEW pathways by doing things that make you feel good. And, the thing is, to get out of depression, you sorta have to do the things that feel counter-intuitive when you're deep in the pit. You won't WANT to get up, shower, put on clothes, and make yourself a healthy meal. You won't WANT to reach out to other people. You might not WANT to be touched, or held, or comforted. Because, depression makes us feel worthless, and so we look to the world to reinforce that feeling of worthlessness. To claw ourselves out, we have to do the things that remind us we are not alone, not the center of the universe, and that we do deserve love/ compassion/ nourishment etc. It's hard. Do it anyway :).
(Anything you do, give it a few weeks, and the momentum of doing it should build on itself).
And obviously, this goes without saying, if your depression is due to deep trauma, then things like touch can be dicey-- don't do things that re-traumatize you; it should feel like you've done something good afterwards.
Movement
Movement is absolutely essential for our health as human beings-- we simply aren't built to be sedentary the way most of us are nowadays. It doesn't matter how you move, whether you walk, dance, garden, do yoga, cook, lift weights, do gymnastics, whatever. Find a way of moving that feels good to you. When you're really depressed, the LAST thing you want to do is move.... maybe a slow walk at your own pace, or maybe flop around on the floor and express the deep sadness through movement. But being sedentary contributes to depression by creating stagnation in the body.
Spirituality of some kind
It doesn't matter who you pray to, or what, but sometimes having something that you see as bigger than yourself, even if its just Reason, can help to shift your perspective outside of 'memememe'. It has the added benefit of showing us a way to surrender ourselves to the larger picture, which, I think, helps to ease the pain a little. And then, ask for help.
Communication/ community
Find a support group. Find other people to talk to. Not as a means to hold yourselves in place, but to express how you feel and find comfort in not being alone.
Touch
One of the side effects of isolating ourselves from the world is that we stop having human contact. Just as we are built to move a lot, we are built for TOUCH. Having another human being hold us, lay their hands on our shoulders, connects us to each other and makes us feel supported. Touch calms the nervous system. Touch can be the thing that finally gets us to drop the 'I'm ok!' facade and break down. So often, we avoid being touched because we are holding ourselves together so strongly. But the beautiful thing about connecting with others and allowing touch is that we realise that we don't need to hold ourselves together; there are other people there to catch us.
Getting outside
Getting outside, taking a walk, looking at things, spending time with plants, or looking for beauty in the world gets you outside yourself, returns your focus to the outside world.
Knowing what you want.
One of the reasons that so many of us become depressed in the first place is that we are not listening to our deepest selves. Sometimes what we want is out-there. It involves rocking the boat, or stirring things up, or ASKING other people to meet you half way. Sometimes it really is as simple as realising that we want or need something, and having the guts to go for it.
Meditation.
One of the things I've found to be the most helpful for me with regards to maintaining a sense of clarity in the world, and a separation from my own emotions, is meditation. There are so many different ways to meditate; when it comes to depression, I like to do meditations that focus on loving-kindness or gratitude.
Here's Pema Chodron, giving a guided meditation
Change your perspective:
Try, for a minute or two, looking at depression this way:
"I am whole and complete, and this feeling is showing me something about my life (or my perspective on life)."
4. Sadness is a thing that unites us and makes us human.
One of the things that happens when we feel depressed is that we become very self-focused; our gaze turns inwards and we think we're the only person in the world. We see our sadness and nothing else. It's hard to see other people, feel other people, or care about other people when we feel like this.
And I think, when we are like this, that we are missing the beautiful thing about grief.
I don't know a single person who hasn't suffered in life, or experienced trauma. And when you can turn yourself outwards a bit, loosen the hold on your own suffering to see outside yourself, you'll see that almost the entire world understands. There are other people out there who have experienced great loss, great trauma, are horrified at the things happening in the world.
Our empathy and compassion for each other is as deep as our own suffering. When we hold our pain close, and don't let it out, then not only are we holding ourselves in place but we are cutting others off from the gift of our own compassion. To exist in the world with grief or sadness is to be human-- there is literally no way to get through life without experiencing horrible things at some point or another. To look at another person who is suffering and to be able to say 'I am here and I will not run from your pain because I don't run from my own' is such a great gift. It's what we all need. And it comes from bravery-- to do that you have to be able to feel your own pain, to feel the depths of it, to know that it's not going to consume you (though it might feel like it sometimes) and to open it up to another person (without pushing it on them to try and lighten your own load), to help them see that you are connected by this painful thing.
Our individual sadness is like a glass of salt water, but when we connect to each other we realise we are an ocean, all together, all connected by our compassion. And this, strangely, lightens the load, makes it more bearable. It's as if the feeling of being completely alone in the world compounds the pain, makes it that much worse. And when we see how deeply we are all connected, there might be pain, but it's not the pain of being singular. When this happens you realise that your pain isn't your own, it's collective. It's all of ours. And we can handle it, together.