People keep sending me links to articles about how cheese will help you live longer, which is pretty awesome news. I’m all for cheese-eating, even just because it’s delicious and makes us happy. Does other food promote good physical or mental health? Today, this article came into my FB feed, and I recognized it as I’d read it when it was first published last year. It’s an article printed in the Wall Street Journal about foods that help with depression, so it was a topic very much within my area of interest both as a depressed person myself and as a mom with children who suffer from this same ailment.
The article does not contain anything surprising. You are supposed to avoid processed foods, sugars, and fried foods. You’re supposed to eat the Mediterranean Diet, with lots of olive oil and whole grains, fruits and vegetables. Basically what’s known as a healthy diet. It does not surprise me that people who eat well are less depressed than people who do not eat well as our brains need nutrients. Makes sense. I wish it were that simple — that we would improve our diets and improve our mental health and eventually not suffer from mental health issues, like one woman profiled in the article. Mental health is an incredibly complex issue, and there are no ‘one size fits all’ solutions.
Food cannot cure you of depression. It can, I think, make your body run better, fuel your brain better, and provide a better chance at all-around good health which will in turn make you feel better in some ways. I’m all for that, and when I am able, I eat well. Sometimes I also binge on toast because my anxiety is killing me. Sometimes we use food to cope, and while it’s not deemed the healthiest of choices, it’s better than some other alternatives. For some (me included), food issues have been PART of my mental health struggles. So I think it’s really reductive to say that eating well = good mental health when there are so many factors and components and individual histories that contribute to feeling balanced and happy.
It feels awful to have a condition which puts up a barrier between you and what makes you happy. It is a struggle I’ve dealt with most of my life. Actually, I think it’s been all my life, but I didn’t have a name for it until I was about 12. Even then, in my teens and twenties, I attributed much of my depression to my own weakness as a person and my own defectiveness. It was my fault I was such a mess, and I needed to get my shit together so people would be able to love me and so I could have what other people had in life. Then I got those things and I was still pretty unhappy with myself. I could not outrun my depression. I finally got some treatment that put a dent in it when I was in my early 30’s. But I’ve cycled in and out of treatment since then, depending on what I could afford, what I could tolerate, and what I was willing to put up with in terms of side-effects.
I’ve thought a lot about how my life would be different if I didn’t have depression. It makes me sad to consider this, and it’s a line of thought I can’t spend too much time with. In times where I have energy, I can accomplish great things, and I think about the opportunities that have passed me by when I’m down. I am not trying to give over my own free will to depression. I take responsibility for my life and my choices, but I can tell you (and you might know, too) that when everything you do feels like a monumental, joyless effort, you often choose to just leave things as they are and chase less after goals and dreams. It’s disappointing and that leads to a cycle of self-hate that doesn’t do anybody any good.
For me, the only thing worse than my own depression is watching my own child suffer in this same way. Watching my son experience depression has made me feel more helpless and hopeless than I’ve ever felt in my life. I can only compare it to watching a newborn, sick baby sleep because you’re worried he’s going to stop breathing (I did this, too). It’s a very anxious place, watching your teenager teeter between numbness and self-destruction and not being able to do anything substantial to fix it. I know what he’s got ahead of him, and it breaks my heart. I keep thinking that maybe because he’s still young, the treatment options will be better for him, that he’s got a little more self-esteem than I did at that age, and he’s got ME, as imperfect as I am, I do know about depression. My parents didn’t, and they didn’t know how bad it was or have the right tools to help me.
So I’m a depressed mom with a depressed kid and I have to hide my depression from him because I don’t want him to know that his depression feeds mine. I don’t want him to feel guilty for my sadness. I feel like I can handle it better than he can because I know my own mind — I know I will not harm myself, I know how to keep on going even when it’s really bad because I’ve done it for a very long time. It’s the one thing I know I can do to help him.
He should eat better, too. Some days I have to remind him to eat. And some days I’m happy he’s eaten some bread and some cereal because at least there is food inside of him. Food won’t cure you if you can’t eat.
I felt like I needed to get this ‘on paper’ and I hope it helps somebody reading to know that you do not struggle alone. I know many parents in my shoes right now, and as sad as that is, we are making it through each day together, supporting each other. Part of being a parent of teens is letting go, and it’s really hard to let go as your child is maturing but is also in such a funk. But I know he ‘s got to figure out some of this himself. If there was ever a reason for my depression, here it is. I hope I can put it to good use.
Cheese Holiday 