I’ve been feeling depressed this week.
Like many of you, I’m no stranger to this feeling. I’ve struggled with bouts of depression on and off throughout my life. Mostly due to health issues (hypothyroidism) but also just due to the difficulty of being a human in this world.
These lows are always shitty. But the worst part is that they spin an illusion that feels absolutely convincing.
When you’re in them, it feels like the world is crashing down on you (even though everything was fine yesterday). Like you’re completely fucking everything up (even though you aren’t). Like no one cares about you or ever should (even though they do).
And worst of all, it feels like there’s no end in sight.
When you’re in this state, there’s not much you can do. You’ll be lucky if you can get yourself out of bed.
But my friend taught me a simple reframe (that he learned from his therapist1) that’s actually helped a lot:
Instead of calling it “depression”, call it “depletion”.
No, this won’t banish all your blues. But for me, this reframe made a small yet significant difference.
See, the word “depression” is almost as shitty as the state it’s describing.
It’s a blanket term that poorly describes what you’re feeling. And leaves you with nowhere to go.
“Depression” signifies a bottomless black hole. An amorphous, incurable state with no way out or end in sight.
“I’m depressed.” Period.
End of sentence. End of hope.
But if instead, I replace that with, “I’m depleted,” things start to open up.
First of all, “depletion” more accurately describes your situation.
You’re feeling shitty because in one way or another, you’re depleted right now.
It could be as simple as being low energy. Maybe you’re exhausted. Running on fumes.
Or it could be more complex. Maybe you’re in a living situation that’s constantly stressing your system. Or in a job or relationship that’s turned toxic.
Or it could be health-realted. Maybe you have thyroid issues, like me. Food allergies/sensitivies. Mold toxicity. Or an imbalance of chemicals in your brain.
Either way, you’re feeling shitty because something is out of balance in your body, mind, or heart (or all three).
There IS a reason you’re feeling this way. And once that’s recognized, there’s a slight opening.
Room for movement, where there was none before.
The most insidious thing about depression is how it can quash any and all action. Movement. Which is the ONLY thing needed to change any situation.
Telling yourself you’re “depressed” just shuts down any forward movement. Being “depressed” feels so formidable, so overwhelming…what can you do in the face of that?
Might as well give up.
But being “depleted”? That’s very actionable.
That reframing immediately makes me wonder, “what’s depleting me?”
And then, “well, what would help replete me?”
Usually, the answer is to give myself some slack. Take it easy on myself.
Treat myself as if I’m having a sick day, because in a sense, I am.
I’m depleted and struggling to function at my normal capacity, the exact same as if I had gotten the flu – so why not be gentle on myself? Give myself permission to take a sick day. To watch Netflix in bed, guilt-free.
To show myself some love and allow myself to replete. To rejuvenate. Restore.
And this to me is the most important part of the reframe: “depletion” allows for more self-kindness.
Look, I’m not going to sugarcoat it. Figuring out the root causes of your depressive states and treating them can be a long, winding, confusing road.
But what turns that road from merely difficult to absolutely hellish is how we treat ourselves throughout.
When I see myself as “depressed”, I feel like a hapless victim of some incurable, terminal disease. And it’s easy for me to wallow in self-pity. Despair. Shame.
But when I see myself as “depleted”, the narrative shifts.
I see myself as someone who’s just been temporarily worn down. Taken out of balance. A balance that I can eventually restore.
The shift is slight, but profound. From endless to temporary. From helpless to empowered.
And with that shift, I begin to work WITH myself, not against.
Instead of beating myself up, I start to wonder, “what can I do to replete myself? Take care of myself? Give myself what I need?”
I begin to treat myself with kindness.
And when you’re caught in these lows, you could use every ounce of goodwill you can get.
Every opening, every inch of movement, every sliver of self-kindness – no matter how small – is significant.
For me, it’s been the difference between feeling like I’m drowning to having my head just above water.
A small shift.
But when you feel like you can’t breathe, that shift makes all the difference in the world.
