The Undertow

 

Visiting Anna Maria Island on the Gulf Coast of Florida as a child, my mother who spent her high school years in the area warned Kelly and me of the dangers of an undertow.

As a regular at that beach, she was used to the beach’s secret dangers.  Yet, she found herself surprised by the undertow that can suddenly overwhelm.

One day on a raft in her late teens, she was relaxing, and she raised her head a short while later and found herself far from shore and moving farther and farther away as the seconds passed.  Mom was headed out to sea.  After much desperate paddling, she and the raft got back to the sandbar and she was able to swim to shore.

Needless to say, her horror story was terrifying for us.  

For those unfamiliar with undertow, it is a current that flows under the surface of the ocean, often going in the opposite direction of anything else.

It is subtle.
It is unseen.  
It is also dangerous for these reasons.

You only know of an undertow if you are warned.
And even if you know of the undertow, until you feel the pull on your ankle or
Suddenly find yourself a football field down the beach from your spot on the shore,
Or lift your head and find the shore in the distance,
You honestly don’t believe it truly exists---or has the power it does.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Depression is much like the undertow.
Depression is not visible externally much of the time—it does not morph someone’s appearance so it is easily visible.
Depression might manifest in tears, but for many skilled at battling depression,  it also might manifest itself in a smile and laughter.
Depression is a current below the surface, drawing, grabbing, dragging one under.

Depression grabs and claws during sleep,
Its power is strongest in the quiet and in the dark.
It crawls from beneath the bed and whispers in the ears of anyone prone to hearing these sounds.
It suggests all the worst-case scenarios,
It highlights all the possible fears,
It isolates and exaggerates and makes the listeners believe the worst about themselves.

Depression draws and pulls from the moment the feet hit the floor in the morning.
Its continual whispers,
Its constant suggestions—
All are meant to darken the world,
To darken the sun, to silence the sounds of birds, to muffle the laughter of friends.
All senses are dulled.

Depression means that the songs you hear only remind you of your hurt,
Depression means that you desire to be left alone only to desire to be loved and surrounded by people who love you.
Depression means that you believe all the worst things ever said to you.
Depression means that you focus on the worst moments of your life and believe this reflects who you are.
Depression means that the very things that make your heart beat harder and faster and happier are the same things you cannot even make yourself  want to participate in.
Depression means that the very people who make your heart beat harder and faster and happier are the same people who you sometimes pull away from.
Depression means that you doubt their love and their acceptance.

Depression means that you don’t share your feelings because
You are so afraid of seeing their faces when the truth is shared.
You are so afraid of seeing them turn and run off, seeing the backs of their heads as they escape you—the true horror of you.
You are so afraid that you keep silent . . . .
You are so afraid that you wear the mask of a smile.
You convince yourself that you will be fine.
Or not.
But even if you aren’t, there is no one who will understand.

Like the undertow, depression is subtle.
It is unseen.  
It is also dangerous for these reasons.
It is not understood until you realize how far from the safety of the shore you are.

Depression means doggy paddling all day, every day, every month, and every year.
It means pulling against the current dragging you down,
The current grabbing at your ankles,
Nibbling at your toes,
Raiding your heart and spirit,
Silently wearing you down until you quit doggy paddling and just give in.

For those who don’t know depression,
It is exhausting.
It is the hardest battle there is.

 * * * * * * * * * * *

The only solution for this battle I know of . . . .
(And I am one who has complained to myself recently of the weariness of the doggy paddle),
Is to find a raft, a safety float, a rescue boat, or a fellow swimmer.

No one may be able to rescue you completely from the undertow,
But if you find the right safe person, perhaps someone who knows the secrets of the undertow from doggy paddling themselves,
Or perhaps a professional who can provide a solid surface for a few minutes,
You might find a respite from the pull, from the grab—
A respite that might allow you to quit paddling and pushing and moving
And allow you to find rest.