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Death and dying seem to be a huge part of depression. And in our culture as we can see in many fairy tales, etc...that fear of death is taught at a young age...could it be possible that experiencing a depression a "Mini-death" could be so fearful, not knowing what or who would be on the other side, that it is just too overwhelming to experience? I just wanted to share a bit of writing someone I know rather well shared with me while in a deep depression and on antidepressants:

“Death As My Friend”

Death came to me the minute I took my first breath.

He came and whispered in my ear, “You are my friend, for always and forever, you are mine.”

I looked my mother in the eye and suckled from her breast, and the shadow of my first friend, Death, flickered deep within her soul.

I knew she was His, too.

When learning to take my first steps he whispered to me, “You will walk through the Valley of Death…hand in hand with me one day, I will teach you to walk strong.”

I learned to run, jump, as fast as I could, for my friend would be so happy, pleased if I did. And when I looked into her face, I saw what her promise from Death was doing…

Death was her only friend. But it was ok, because I knew what He would give in the end. Comfort, peace, serenity, forgiveness, love, mercy, kindness, pleasure and joy. All things she could not feel or experience here because she had given herself to Him. She was unable to show affection; for this would take away energy she needed to give in the end, to Death.

Death was my friend…and then I saw what He can do. Four and a half years old. I cherished Death, I believed His promises, and then He lied, and took the special one away. He whispered, “She walks in the Valley of Death, and you will see her one day. Would you like to see her now? You can always have the choice if you wish to come with me…to walk in the Valley of Death, you are strong, and wise…”

I looked into the woman’s eyes who I had suckled from her breast. There was no longer a flicker in her soul, He was her soul. But I was afraid now. He was still my friend, He walked beside me everyday, for without Him, I was alone.

Did she see Him? The day she suckled my breast? The day we said goodbye to my brother and He was sitting next to him on the bed? Did she see him that morning as we entered the church, and He sat down next to me?

You have walked through the Valley of Death with me my whole Life. My Life has been a Valley of Death. I am no longer willing to live a life of dying, nor am I going to pass it on to my children. You may scare me, make me believe you are my friend, at times comfort me, and make me believe I want to be with you, but I no longer want you to be my friend. I want Living to be my friend.

One again, I really think that our culture plays an important role in how we perceive depression and other mental health issues and thus how we handle them.