I Never Understood Depression Until my Mother Died From It

I’m embarrassed to say for many years I judged. Full on gavel in hand judged. And I am sorry. So sorry. Because I was without empathy. And THAT is the worst thing you can withhold from someone suffering. Maybe it was because I was so full of rage that even as an adult I struggled to have empathy for friends with depression. I always had sympathy; but never empathy. And that’s not the same at all. Brene Brown describes the difference as: “sympathy being the pity we feel for someone else’s hardships whereas empathy is the “me too”, the act of putting yourself in their shoes.” I cringe at the thoughts that once ran through my mind. How high on my horse I sat. Because in my head if I judged it, twisted it, or mocked it – the “it” didn’t have any weight, or value. Which meant they were just “sad”. And anyone can stop being sad.