Helping Someone With Clinical Depression: What I Learned From a Friend Who Committed Suicide

When my youngest child was four days old, my best friend became severely depressed and committed suicide. She was thirty years old, a wife, and the mother of two little boys. For months, she had been harder to reach on the phone, although when I did get in touch with her, she seemed fine. About two weeks before her suicide, she told me she was depressed and had been seeing a psychiatrist. I reminded her of all the good things she had in her life, and how she should snap out of it.

That week, I invited her to a craft class, which I thought would get her out of the house and help somehow. She was very reluctant but when I told her I had already paid the fee for both of us, she agreed. I went to pick her up, and she seemed very quiet. We had a nice time at the class, and she seemed to perk up a little. As we walked across the parking lot, I saw a woman we both knew a few cars down. I called out to her, and she walked over to talk to my friend and me. When we got in the car, my friend was very mad. She wanted to know why I had called that woman over and told me she didn't want to talk to anyone. On the way home, I told her if she was going to get over depression, she had to help herself, make herself do things even when she didn't feel like it. She had to "push through."

Honestly, at that time, with what limited information I knew about depression, I thought I was being helpful. One morning she woke up, cleaned her house, bought groceries, prepared five meals for the freezer, took her husband lunch, sent the kids to her mom's, and went into the garage, closed the doors, and started the car. A neighbor passing by found her.

I didn't help her with anything I did. I didn't understand how someone could get to that point, and why she didn't snap herself out of it. I had never been depressed, and thought only weak people ever got that way. I raised my kids, went through a divorce, worked myself through college to get my degree, and thought I was fine. I even opened my own business. But then something happened. It began with not wanting to be around people or talk to anyone. Oh, I put on a happy face when I needed to, but I avoided others when possible. All I wanted to do in the daytime was go to bed, and at night, when I could go to bed, I couldn't sleep. I kept going. I didn't tell anyone there was a problem. I was convinced I was fine. I began to have crying spells, for no reason. Once I started, I couldn't stop, and I would lie in bed crying for hours.

One morning my alarm clock went off and I got up. Three hours later, I found myself standing in front of the dresser with no memory of what I'd done in between. It absolutely terrified me. I called a friend. When she heard me crying and asked what was wrong, I said, "I'm losing it. I'm losing it." She talked to me and suggested I call a counseling clinic, and read me the number. I called it and called her back and told her I was going to drive there, and I was fine. She didn't believe me as I was still crying the whole time. That day I was admitted to the hospital for major depression. I stayed there for three weeks. I got on medication, I talked to doctors, I made life changes, and I started over. This was in 2000.

The reason I'm writing all this now, even though I fear telling my secret, is because there are so many people who were like me, who didn't "get it" when it came to depression. The best way I can describe it is to imagine a day when you feel really blah and multiply that by a hundred times. It's not something you can quit and it's not something you can control, although I fought to be in total control at all times. Depression, for too long, has been something no one wanted to talk about or hear. To admit it to someone, and later hear them whispering about it to others can be devastating. But if we don't bring depression out into the light and talk about it, people will go untreated.

I've learned a lot about depression. I still don't recognize it in myself. Usually my husband notices it before I do, and tells me to go back on my medication. That's what he did this time. When I was put on medication, the doctors told me to plan on taking it the rest of my life. But there are times I start to feel good, and think I don't need it, and I quit. And as I've finally learned, depression always slowly comes over me every time, and I'm in it before I realize what is happening. Educating yourself is a process.

If you are depressed, know that even though people may not understand, they are doing the best they can with the information they have. Tell someone, even if it's just your family doctor. If you think you know someone who is depressed, learn the symptoms and then don't let go of them until they get help. It's not true that people who threaten suicide don't do it. My friend threatened it several times before she actually did it. I've stood on that cliff between living and giving up and felt way too close to the edge at times. At times like that, family and friends are more important than ever. There is hope. Don't be ashamed or embarrassed to admit you need help.