“No one is as capable of gratitude as one who has emerged from the kingdom of night.”
–Elie Wiesel
“Enlightenment begins on the other side of despair.”
–Jean Paul Sartre
There is an ancient spiritual truth which states that “every adversity contains within it the seed of an equivalent or greater good.” Like the lotus flower that blooms in the depths of the mud, something redeeming can emerge from even the most horrendous situation. This was certainly true of my experience of major depression. When I awoke from the nightmare, I found that the illness had left unexpected gifts in its wake. The black cloud of depression had a silver lining.
The first of these blessings was compassion. As a result of my ordeal, my empathy has deepened—for all who suffer, and especially for those who are afflicted with mental illness. Having gained a greater understanding of the frailties of human existence, I am less likely to judge others. Before my episode, I might have said about a person with a neurosis, “How could he stay in that dysfunctional marriage?” or “Hasn't he cured his addiction yet?” Now, when I meet a person who is in pain, I release my judgment and say silently, “Friend, I know what it is like to be at the mercy of your demons. I bless you, and pray that you, too, will find your way home.”
On the eve of my second hospitalization, Joan had remarked, “Think of your stay in the hospital as a training ground for learning how to cope.” In many respects, my entire illness was a lesson in learning how to manage intense pain. Thus, a second gift of the depression has been the development of emotional coping skills that I now use to create stability and serenity in my daily life.
In addition, I have gained a new perspective about the meaning of distress. Whenever I start to get irritated because something is not working out as planned, I say to myself, “What's the big deal? I almost died. I almost committed suicide.” What was once a crisis, I now regard as an inconvenience. I am reminded of the saying, “Don't sweat the small stuff.” After you have stood at brink of the abyss and faced death, everything is small stuff.1
Yet another blessing I have received has been the reconciliation of my marriage. My divorce in 1996 initiated an overwhelming reaction of grief and loneliness which created the depression that ultimately led to my breakdown. During my illness, my ex-wife Joan became a major support in my healing—accompanying me to LEC's Sunday services and driving me to the monthly God meetings. Our commitment to my recovery and to our spirituality rekindled the love that drew us back together.
Finally, my reconciliation with Joan was part of a bigger picture. Having my own “near death” experience made me realize what I truly valued in life—the love of my wife, friends and family.
Breaking Down to Break Through
“The depth of darkness to which you can descend and still live is an exact measure of the height to which you can aspire to reach.”
In 1977, Czech physical chemist Ilya Prigogine won the Nobel Prize for his theory of dissipative structures. Prigogine showed that “open systems” (those systems having a continuous interchange with the environment) occasionally experience periods of instability. When this imbalance exceeds a certain limit, the system breaks down and enters a state of “creative chaos.” Yet, out of chaos and disorganization, a new and higher order spontaneously emerges. This phenomenon—known as spontaneous transformation—has been recognized as the basis of physical evolution.
“Job and His Family Restored to Prosperity,” by William Blake
I believe that what holds true on the physical plane is valid on the psychological plane as well. Hence, so-called “nervous breakdowns” can be seen as rites of passage into a more mature spiritual consciousness. As survivor researcher Julius Siegal describes it:
In a remarkable number of cases, those who have suffered and prevail find that after their ordeal they begin to operate at a higher level than ever before…The terrible experiences of our lives, despite the pain they bring, may become our redemption.”
Although I would never want to trivialize the suffering that depression brings, I do feel changed for the better by my healing experience in ways that would not have occurred had I undergone a lesser ordeal. On the other had, not everything has improved. In the last three months of my episode, I gained thirty pounds (one of the side effects of Elavil).2 In addition, my metabolism has slowed down, and I sleep more than I used to. Yet, the infirmities of my physical body have been amply compensated by a heightened spirituality and peace of mind.
What Goes Down Must Come Up
Ten years ago, I wrote the following in my book of affirmations, Words That Heal:
What goes down must come up.
There can be no death without rebirth.
Every ending is followed by a beginning.
The experience of hell is a precursor to the glory of heaven.
These words are no longer an intellectual supposition. Having learned their truth firsthand, I have a personal message for anyone who is going through a “dark night of the soul” experience:
If you are on the edge of the abyss, don't jump.
If you are going through hell, don't stop.
As long as you are breathing, there is hope.
As long as day follows night, there is hope.
Nothing stays the same forever.
Set an intention to heal, reach out for support, and you will find help.
I realize that not everyone can develop the spiritual endurance to hold on—and there is no shame in that. But for those whose will to live is greater than their suffering, there exists the eternal promise of resurrection and rebirth. Like the mythical Phoenix, we who are consumed by fire will rise again from the ashes.3
I began this book with a quotation from Teddy Roosevelt, a courageous soul who experienced numerous episodes of depression during his life. His words, “It is not having been in the dark house, but having left it, that counts,” form a credo for all souls who have been to hell and back.
Because depression tends to recur, there is a possibility that I might one day revisit Roosevelt's “dark house.” If that occurs, I hope to put this book's body, mind and spirit recovery program to good use. But for now, I would rather join with the psalmist in singing the 126th Psalm, in which David priases God for the deliverance of his people:
The Lord has done great things for us, whereof we are glad.
Those who sow in tears shall reap in joy.
He who continually goes forth weeping,
Shall doubtless come again with rejoicing,
Bringing his sheaves with him.
“The Invisible Helper,” by Mary Hanscom
1 Martha Manning, who wrote about her own hellish experience with clinical depression in the book Undercurrents, says: “My baseline for awful will never be the same.”
2 Three years after I wrote this, I was able to lose the thirty pounds through increasing my exercise, lowering my carbohydrate intake, receiving acupuncture treatments and taking Chinese herbal medicine.
3 Phoenix was the Greek name for the mythological bird that was sacred to the Sun-god in ancient Egypt. An eagle-like bird with red and gold plumage, the Phoenix had a 500-year life span, at the end of which the bird built its own funeral pyre on which it was burned to ashes. Yet, out of the ashes a new Phoenix arose. Symbolic of the rising and setting of the sun, the Phoenix later appeared in medieval Christian writings as a symbol of death and resurrection.