You’re sad, but you don’t know why. It’s confusing, because from a distance, things look like they’re going pretty well; you’ve got friends, you’re doing well in school, you’re getting along with your parents, and even better—it’s Christmas! But you still can’t shake something in you that’s weighing you down. You feel . . . gray.

And sometimes, you don’t even feel sad; you feel numb. Things might not make you cry, but they don’t make you laugh, either. Even decorating the Christmas tree doesn’t joyfully stir your heart as it used to. I can see you looking at yourself in the mirror and thinking, “Who is that girl?”

I know that normal things are hard for you, Sister. It feels like too much work to get out of bed or to take a shower. The mere thought of baking yummy Christmas cookies exhausts you. You remember when you were cheerful; you were energetic and enthusiastic. You remember when you were curious; you wanted to learn things and try things and do things. But you feel that way hardly at all anymore. You don’t understand why, and neither do the people around you.

What’s Going On?
I know that your parents are confused; your brother and sister are confused; your friends are confused. I hear them telling you to “snap out of it.” I hear them telling you that since you’re a Christian, you should have the joy of Christ—that true followers of Jesus should never be this sad. And I see your precious, brittle heart breaking every time they say it. I see your spirit giving up just a little bit more each time you hear it. And I know they’re wrong.

Because here’s what’s really going on: You’re depressed, my beautiful Sister. You’re not just sad. You’re not going to sleep it off for a weekend and feel new on Monday. This grayness has been following you around for a while. You have an illness called depression, and it’s an illness, just like the flu is an illness. And just like the flu, this depression happened to you. You didn’t invite it in. You aren’t sad because you’re weak. You aren’t gray like this because you’re flimsy or soft or easily broken. Your mind and your spirit have come down with something, and you didn’t choose it.

So here’s the science of what’s going on: something’s gone wrong with some of the chemicals in your brain, just like sometimes things go wrong in your stomach or your throat. You’ve got an imbalance of three key chemicals in your brain: serotonin, norepinephrine and dopamine, which are supposed to regulate your moods as well as your appetite or your need for sleep. But with depression, instead of feeling the effects in your stomach or your throat, you’re feeling it in your emotions and moods.

But I want to tell you something.

You didn’t tell your serotonin to stop helping your brain out.

You didn’t ask your norepinephrine and dopamine to quit working.

This doesn’t mean you’re weak.

You’re sick.

So beautiful girl, you can’t feel guilty for that. Don’t blame yourself. You’re sick, and that’s OK; it happens! Don’t be afraid. Tell someone you trust that you’re sad and that it’s changing your life in a way you know isn’t healthy. Please find a doctor who’ll help you find medication or therapy to regulate those chemicals in your brain. There are people who want to help. There are people who care about you. I know that, because I care about you.

Darling, you’re being lied to. The Devil’s telling you you’re worthless, that you’re ugly or that you’re unimportant. He sneers that you can’t be this sad if you’re a true Christian.

These are lies, but here’s the Truth: You’re worth more than you could ever know. You’re exquisitely beautiful. You’re important. And being sick doesn’t mean you aren’t a true Christian. Christians do get sick. Christians get headaches. We sometimes get the flu and chickenpox—and depression. The sadness that depression brings you is just a symptom (just like itchiness is a symptom of the chicken pox and a stuffy nose is a symptom of the flu). That sadness isn’t a sin.

I’ve Been There
I know these things, because I’ve struggled with depression, too.

I had a time of sadness and grayness, too. I wept on the inside but couldn’t on the outside. I slept too much and sometimes couldn’t get out of bed. I felt guilty for my sadness and for what it was doing to my family and friends, just like you do. I felt guilty for everything else, too. I felt stupid, embarrassed and worthless. I felt numb, too.

But I wasn’t worthless, and things weren’t hopeless. And so I went to a few doctors. I made a wonderful friend; a psychologist named Stacy who talked to me once a week and started reminding my brain that I was someone important; that I was sick but that I could get better. I saw another doctor who gave me some medication (some pills, just like any other pills), only instead of soothing a sore throat, these pills helped regulate the chemicals in my brain.

And I started to feel better.

I was sick, and now I’m not.

And you aren’t worthless, you beautiful, sweet daughter of God. Things aren’t hopeless for you, either. You’re sick, but you can get better. Pray to your Father. Pray to the One who weeps when you weep. Pray to the God whose heart breaks when you frown and who will carry you when you can’t carry yourself. Tell Him that you’re angry, sad and confused. Ask for His comfort, ask Him to show you what you can learn in all of this. Praise Him for who He is but still beg Him to give you His peace and His healing. There’s help for you, my friend.

Depression isn’t your fault. You’re sick, but don’t be afraid. You’ll get better.

And you are so, so loved.

Love,
Your Brio Big Sis