How to feel better when you're depressed

Have you ever felt so sad you couldn't leave your bed? Make something to eat? Here are some ways to feel better, fast. If you feel you might have depression, try one or several of these.

1. Accept – Recognize your symptoms of insomnia or exhaustion, irritability and withdrawal, isolating, eating too much or having no appetite can be symptoms of depression. Depression is nothing to be ashamed of, in fact it’s quite common. According to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC) 8% of people 12 and older suffer from depression. Accept.

2. Move – This one is hard because being depressed means you don’t want to move, don’t want to go anywhere, and maybe don’t want to get out of bed. If you can make yourself move your muscles every so often, even if it’s to walk from your couch to the refrigerator, you will feel better. Move.

3. Eat – Eat small healthy meals or snacks whether you’re hungry or not. Depression commonly affects appetite. Some of us eat comfort food and lots of it, while others would rather eat nothing at all. Eating a small healthy mix like an egg, and apple, and toast puts something good in your stomach, staves off hunger, and helps keep your blood sugar where it needs to be. Eat.

4. Argue – Identify the thought or belief that’s perpetuating your feelings and consciously dispute it. Argue with yourself. If you’re feeling down because you feel other people don’t understand you, tell yourself with resoluteness, “Shawn understands me.” If you’re sad because your partner left and you feel like you’ll never be OK without her, tell yourself, “I miss her but I was OK before her and I will be OK after her.” Argue.

5. Pet – If you have a cat, dog, or other household animal, or have access to visit one, spend time petting them. Research shows that petting an animal releases endorphins, the body’s natural opiates responsible for feeling good. Pet.

6. Seek a qualified therapist to talk to. A good therapist can help you experience relief in as little as 1 session, so long as you dig in and do the work. Many therapists specialize in treating people with depression. Seek.

The Impermanence of Both Sides of the Pain/Joy Coin

I recently returned from a silent meditation retreat – a place of painful and joyous insights. It was held in a peaceful place, in the middle of nowhere, amidst deer and wolves, caterpillars and snakes. In an effort to force myself to get up and stay up for early morning 4:30 am meditation, I volunteered to ring the morning gong each day.

I set my travel alarm for 3:50 and dressed silently by the light of the little wooden lamp, wrapping scarves around my neck and head – it’s cold in the dark in the woods. My job was to walk outside under the awnings around the women’s dorms, hitting the wooden mallet on the heavy – brass, I think – gong, making it spin and sending vibrations of sound in all directions signaling 4 am wakeup and 4:20 “get yourself to the meditation hall,” for women meditation students.

By 4:30, I was wide awake for morning meditation and took my assigned cushioned spot in the meditation hall. Seated in silence, unmoving, scanning my body for vibrations, my feet would go to sleep. The tingling turned to electric shocks as I worked to notice the sensation, wonder about it, without judgement, and then move on to each area of my body, piece by piece. Working my way up, my back screamed in silence. Notice, wonder, no craving, no aversion, anicca, anicca, anicca* – the law of impermanence.

Meditation continued, alternating with meals and breaks, until 9:30 at night, for ten difficult and wondrous days.

During meals and breaks, I thought. In my head without distraction can be a scary place to live, and so I tried to notice, wonder, and practice anicca with my thoughts. I had painful thoughts of childhood traumas, joyous thoughts of future life plans, and tender fearful thoughts of the impending loss of my dear friend, his third bout with cancer, third type, ever growing. And I cried. Often. In silence. Walking the mowed paths in the meadow and looking out at deer during teatime. Why did he do that? I got this! Why must she go and leave all her children?

I made decisions, changed decisions, and meditated on it.

I must confront my father for his sins against me; I must not confront my father, he can hurt me in other ways now; I am not a traumatized child anymore and my existence no longer depends on the whims of my father.

I must continue my agency job healing moods and personalities; I must leave my job to support myself; I will continue my work, my life's mission, in my own office.

My friend will die; my friend might live with this treatment and that intervention; my friend’s body is dying and I will hold his family in my heart and his soul in my hands.

And then, I meditated some more.

The last night of the retreat was a buffer between the isolation and noble silence of meditation and the hustle bustle noise of the outside world. Talking was allowed everywhere except in the meditation hall. I stayed up late in deep discussion with other women I felt silently bonded to. And then the pain/joy coin hit me in my gut: life is pain and life is joy. Physical aching electrical pain and horror-invoking mental pain and the heart ripping pain of grief. Subtle pinpoint vibration joy and emancipating courageous “I got away” joy and hopeful life without end joy.

And now, I meditate some more.

*Anicca is pronounced uh-nee-cha, and means impermanence in Pali. The law of impermanence says that pain and suffering, like joy and happiness, are impermanent.

If you've experienced grief, loss, trauma, or pain, you can feel better. I'm here. You can call me to schedule a consultation, where we'll talk a bit, give you some hope, and see if maybe you want a little more help.