Two years ago this week, I covered my first professional tennis tournament in Memphis. I was credentialed last minute as a videographer for my friend Jennifer’s blog Racquet Required. I got to ask questions in pressers, shoot and edit an interview with Andy Roddick, and watch this point live. The entire experience was a whirlwind of awesome, and it was a a much needed distraction from my life, which had taken an unexpected and traumatic turn a couple of months prior.
In Memphis that year, I met a 20-year-old girl named Rebecca Marino. I sat in on her press conferences, filmed an interview with her, and watched her march through the field on the way to her first WTA final. Along with Milos Raonic, she was part of a Canadian invasion. I was in awe of her amazing serve, powerful forehand, and mature and easy-going demeanor that commanded a room. She seemed wise beyond her years, and I was convinced she would be a top 50 fixture for years to come.
But by now most of you know this story, and know that wasn’t to be. Marino reached a career-high ranking of No. 38, but a year ago she decided to take a break from tennis to recover physically and deal with some burnout. She made a comeback last fall, but after talking with the New York Times last week about cyberbullying and depression, she announced that she was retiring from tennis.
A lot of media attention has been given to the cyberbullying, which is absolutely an important issue that needs to be addressed, but it was her candid accounts of depression that really stood out to me. She said that depression, which she had been dealing with for about six years, felt like a “smothered feeling of grey.” There have been days where she couldn’t get out of bed, much less get dressed.
I know that feeling all too well.
I first realized how debilitating clinical depression was when I was 17. Though I had been to therapy in middle school when my parents divorced, and dealt with my mother who would go through periods where she didn’t get out of bed when I was in high school, the disease didn’t fully hit me until I was deep into the stress of my senior year. Trying desperately to get in all of my college applications and find my way out of my hometown, I suddenly lost the motivation to do anything. Usually an honor roll student who loved school and enjoyed going out with friends, I suddenly couldn’t get out of bed in the morning. I stopped going to classes, turning in assignments, or even engaging with my teachers. I ignored calls from my friends. I watched deadlines for college applications get closer and closer, and felt completely helpless to do anything about them. I was sure that I had mono, but when tests proved that I didn’t, I began to believe that I was just a lazy good-for-nothing who was going to be trapped in Greensboro, North Carolina in that very bedroom for the rest of her life. I was so tired and apathetic that I didn’t see another way.
One night as I sat by the computer staring helplessly at an essay that wouldn’t write itself, exhausted beyond belief despite having slept most of the day, and about to break out into tears for the fourth time that day, I found myself looking up my symptoms in an AOL search box. (Yes, AOL. It was a while ago.) Somehow I found myself in a depression forum reading the stories of others who were suffering, and I found comfort in their similar struggles. Suddenly everything made sense, or at least began to. I made an appointment with a doctor the next week, got put on some medication, and soon found myself with the energy to finish my senior year. I felt like myself again.
I went to NYU film school where I excelled. I produced dozens of projects at once, was president of the largest club in the arts school, and wrote and directed my own films. I was living the life I had always wanted to live, far away from the drama and limitations of home. But depression found me there too, and suddenly there I was back in bed during the second semester of my junior year. Things were bad at back home and that fall I had lost someone very close to me. I started skipping out on the coveted internship I had earned. I stopped turning in assignments on time, if at all. I missed a lot of work. I ate constantly. I never went for help that semester, and still have no clue how I scraped by. But eventually, with time, I felt better.
I’m not Rebecca Marino (obviously), and I certainly don’t mean to put words into her mouth or to project my feelings onto her. I do not know what it feels like to hit an ace against Venus Williams, or to travel the world playing tennis, or to have the weight of a nation on your shoulders in your early twenties. I certainly don’t know what it feels like to check Twitter and have people hurling insults and curses at me. But I do know what “grey” feels like. I do know what it’s like to suddenly not be able to handle the same pressure you could yesterday. And I do know what it’s like to have to take a step back from things you have worked hard for because you have to put your feelings on the inside above your goals on the outside.
Depression doesn’t care if you’re a beautiful professional athlete or a struggling broke writer in New York City. It doesn’t care if you’re in a relationship or single, if you’re black or white, if you’re young or old. Depression doesn’t discriminate.
The two years since the 2011 Memphis tournament have been a whirlwind for me. I’ve discovered an even deeper love for tennis and for writing than I ever knew possible. I’ve traveled around the country, written and published and promoted a novel, and met countless new friends. I’ve begun to build a life and a career, but I’ve also been running and hiding from depression and from that same trauma that I sought distraction from two years ago. Due to fear, fatigue, and an extreme lack of funds, I stopped taking medications and stopped taking care of myself in the proper way. I thought I had learned enough about myself to out-smart depression, that my knowledge of the disease and history of overcoming it would keep it at bay.
Then last December, after I unknowingly spent months isolating myself from friends and family, I once again found myself at rock bottom. A week late on an easy deadline, I found myself wandering aimlessly around Manhattan prior to a meeting. I collapsed onto the dirty concrete in sobs. My entire body ached to the core. I did not think I had the energy to stand up, let alone focus in a meeting. I didn’t even think I could make it to the subway to get back home to Queens. I’d never experienced anything like that. The real me–smart, capable, sarcastic, hard-working, outgoing–was lost so deep inside this distraught mess that I didn’t know if I’d ever see her again. I was trapped.
I don’t talk about depression much, even to my closest friends and family. I certainly never thought I would talk publically about my struggles until they were over. I figured one day I’d be a successful writer who had a savings account, a bustling social life, and could fit into that size 6 dress, and then I would talk about the “dark days” and how I overcame all my demons. But that’s not how mental illness works, and as I get older and go through the highs and lows, I’m coming to terms with the fact that this is something I will have to manage the rest of my life.
Still, this is the by far hardest thing I have ever had to write. I’m afraid that it will haunt me in terms of employment, relationships, and reputation. But I wrote this because I’m a writer and because not writing about this has made me feel like I was living a lie. I wrote this because I want to make sure Rebecca Marino knows that she is not alone, and to thank her for sharing her story. I wrote this because I have gotten so much strength through the years by reading about the struggles of others, and I wanted to be a part of the conversation.
As Rebecca Marino came forward with her story this week, I found a lot of people expressing pity and sadness. I cannot speak for her, but I know that as I put this story out there, pity is the last thing I want. Rather, I hope that by doing my part to further the dialogue of what depression is, I can help alleviate the guilt and isolation that comes with it. Compassion, understanding, and listening go a lot farther than pity.
Today I have more strength than I did two months ago, but I have a long way to go. I’ve made a lot of mistakes, but figuring out the right treatment, expectations, and plan for the future is an ongoing process, and one that I will have to keep working on. My short-term definitions of success change day by day, even hour by hour, but I still know that I am capable of living the life I’ve always dreamed of. I just have to be kind to myself along the way and allow my dreams to be fluid. Most importantly, I have to learn to be honest with myself and with others about how I’m feeling.
I assume that’s what Rebecca Marino is doing now, as she steps away from the game at the age of 22. She can still play tennis. She could continue to chase success in the way she’s always defined it, the way the outside world defines it for a pro tennis player. But instead she’s taking care of herself and speaking out about her struggles. So many think that depression is a sign of weakness, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. Opening up about depression shows a lot more strength than winning a tennis match.
The truth is that despite being so widespread, depression is still very misunderstood and stigmatized, often even by the people suffering from it. The only way to change that is by talking about it.
OK, I can’t really string words together to produce a proper comment. So I’ll say: bravo to you for telling us about this huge part of your life. I wish the very best for you, and I know you have great things ahead.
Thanks so much, Harini. xo
Nothing is so difficult as an invisible challenge, as I know from experience. Thank you. And the very best of luck to you.
Thanks Lizzie- same to you. *hugs*
Brave brave post, Lindsay. It IS good to talk about it, and let people know your story. This disease, illness, sickness should not be hidden away. I hope you continue to find treatment and management options and not have to suffer those depths again.
Thanks marron- means a lot. Talking about it really does help.
Thanks for sharing that, Lindsay.
Down with pity; up with understanding. Down with stigma; up with knowledge. Talking about it *does* help–so, thanks.
Thank you. Love that: “Down with pity; up with understanding. Down with stigma; up with knowledge.” Going to put it on a post-it. It’s very wise. xo
Thanks for sharing Lindsay. A really powerful post. I totally agree with you when you said that you’d gotten “strength through the years by reading about the struggles of others” — I’ve no doubt you’ll have provided similar strength to others through sharing your experience. I’ll certainly admit to being one of those. 🙂
Thank you Aysha- we all just have to help each other. This comment has helped me.
Thanks Linz for sharing this. I know how it feels like as I have been through this myself. Not wanting to do anything and just being in your bed for even days. Thanks for sharing it. It does make you feel better to share it and to know that you are not alone out there. Thanks and best of luck. Hope that you always are blessed with good things.
Thanks Mania- depression can make you feel so alone even when common sense says you’re not, so it’s so important to talk about it. Best of luck to you too.
Linz, you have said everything I wanted to say and then some. 8 years ago I had a hysterectomy. As part of that process, it threw me into peri-menopause. I am a paralegal in a law firm. The recovery was just terrible. The depression that took hold of me was indescribable. All of a sudden, here I was in the prime of my life with the inability to have any more children. It does not matter that I did not want any more. The fact that I was no longer capable of producing a child left a stigma. Even worse, I felt like half a woman. That coupled with years of self image issues left me depressed.
I was an A-List paralegal for many years. All of a sudden I would have days of apathy. I was no longer able to follow simple instructions from lawyers. I was unable to meet deadlines and I was thisclose to losing my job. There were days when I would go out on the balcony and just stand there, ready to jump because I felt absolutely useless and clueless. And don’t get me started on the crying.
After one long conversation with my boss in which it came about that I either sought help or I would lose my job, I sought help. I have been in therapy for a number of years now and I am doing well. Starting a blog has helped. I am no longer on anti-depressants, and I am dealing with my menopause in a much better way. I have a boyfriend, who while not the most ardent of lovers, fulfills me in other ways.
It takes time and I lift my hat to both Linz and Rebecca for going public with this most personal of mental issues.
As to the cyberbullying, I think tennis fans (at least the real ones) should take a look at the comments on the betting websites when a match is being played. The type of comments that are made are just a symptom of what is wrong in tennis. It is useless for tennis to try to stamp out betting when they then go ahead and have a betting company sponsor tournaments.
Thanks so much for sharing your story, Karen. While i don’t want anyone else to suffer, it is immensely comforting to know that others feel this way. So glad that you are feeling better these days, and I really hope that continues.
Linz,
Thanks for writing this article. You are going to win this battle
Thank you Master Ace.
That was…amazing. The world of depression is all too often a world of anonymity. I can’t even begin to estimate how much courage writing this article took.
You know what part of your article hit me hardest? the fact you stopped taking your medicines becasue of: ‘extreme lack of funds’.
The Glorious United States of America ! Those of us who live in the civilized world (WHERE PEOPLE GET TAKEN CARE OF EVEN IF THEY ARE BROKE) will never understand that. This is barbarism, pure and simple.
Isn’t it awful, May? I could write a book on my struggles with healthcare and with being broke, it’s like there’s a barrier at every corner. What’s worse is that this happens when you’re so down that getting help takes a lot of energy that you don’t even have! I hope that things continue to get better in this country.
Thanks for sharing, Lindsay. This definitely needs a lot of courage – hats off. Best regards from Switzerland
Thanks Svenja. xo
Very brave post, and an important one. Someone very close to me has had the same struggles and it is difficult not only to understand but to know how to respond and help. Thanks for posting this and for all of your blogging, which is always terrific. Hope to see you at a tournament this year.
Thanks Jenn- I hope to see you soon as well!
Thank you so much for sharing this. My 17 yo son is a National Merit Commended Student who is having the same experience you did during his senior year this year. Coupling that with his Asperger’s Syndrome diagnosis has created an almost insurmountable mountain of stress. He’s great one day and completely debilitated the next two. He’s in therapy but won’t really talk and the 4-5 meds haven’t made a big impact. I pray he will finally come to terms with his situation and decide to fight rather than continue to shut down because of stories like yours. Otherwise he may not graduate. May you troubles be eased through this sharing!
Lisa, I will keep your son in my thoughts and prayers, and please let me know if there is any way I can help. It’s so tough to see the light when things are bad, and to know that things will get better. Best of luck to him and to you.
[…] On the wake of a couple of women I admire owing up to suffering depression for years, I have to more fully acknowledged my struggle with the illness. Here is an article that involves both those people. […]
I wrote a post on my blog about the impact of this article and RM’s retirement on me.
Thank so much for writing about it.
Thank you so much for sharing your blog and your story. Hopefully the more we talk the more we can understand the disease and ourselves and help other understand as well.
Thank you for being so candid about your life. Know that sharing your story will help further the dialogue that is still needed about this issue that impacts so many.
Thanks so much, Erik.
Lindsay,
What a privilege to live the truth,tips hat to both you and Karen,honesty and seeking help will set you through…
Plus, from the little I gather here through your writings and stuff, I could tell there is no way depression or anythinbg for that matter will have an upper hand on you,not ever…
There is more to life than perfection, and the way to overcome anything is to first and foremost acknowlegde it,and there is no other way but to first recognize it, then tackle it
You are and will always be the WINNER!
I have faith in responsible and brave people and you all are!
Thanks you Aube- love the enthusiasm, keeps me going! xo
Little late in seeing this but wanted to thank you for writing it. It’s so important that people speak out and talk about depression and what Rebecca did and what you did is going to help a lot of people. Most others can’t understand that “grey”, that ‘darkness’ and ‘helplessness’ that envelops someone with depression – that it’s not something you can just will away.
Dick Cavett has written some excellent articles in the NYT about his battles with depression. One thing he wrote really stuck with me and I said ‘YES, yes!!! That’s what it feels like.’ He said that if you were sitting in a chair and on a table relatively near to you there was a magic wand that would cure your depression and malaise, you wouldn’t have the energy to get up and go grasp that wand.
That is what it feels like to me. You can know in your head that getting out of the house and going to see a doctor would probably help you, but if you can’t get out of bed and get dressed, all those things that you know would be good for you to do remain out of your grasp. I give Rebecca so much credit for talking openly about her struggles. The Vancouver Canucks in her hometown have a very visible campaign to talk openly about mental illness after they lost one of their friends and teammates to depression and suicide.
Slowly but surely the stigma will be lessened by you and Rebecca and the Canucks and many others talking about this disease and how debilitating it can be. I wish you and Rebecca all the best.
so i’m a little late (ok a lot late) but thank you for writing this lindsay. i don’t know if i could be brave enough to write something like this. i wish we could have this type of discussion more. unfortunately a lot of people still suffer in silence (me being one of them). continued success to you.
Sorry I was late to this but what a brave post. Thanks for sharing your story. It would be great if Rebecca saw this too!
Thanks for sharing Linz. Finally read it. Such a sad story from you, and I’m thankful that you are managing it, well, quite well.
Hoping people who have depression, Rebecca too, can find comfort in each other, in their families and in their loved ones.
And Master Ace is here! Wow.
And hats off for sharing your story Karen. Hoping you are taking care of your troubles well too friend.
From Pat. =)
Thank you so much for sharing this. A year ago I lost a cousin to depression. My family has always been very close, we are still reeling with the shock.
To put this in context, it was a tough beginning to the year; we lost my grandmother and her sister in January. And while we were mourning and planning services, we lost my cousin to suicide in February. It was so hard for us to speak about or understand; our mothers had already been dealing with losing their mother and aunt, and then this new blow. A lot of us were angry that she could go and do something so selfish, at such an inopportune moment. Worse; my cousin was a resident doctor, so she ought to have known where to go for help. But the thing about depression which you mentioned, is that it is so disabling.
A year later the pain lingers – if only we knew what she was going through, maybe if she had spoken to someone, something could have been done. But it is too late now. Like with all illness, information is empowering, and your brave story is important if it could help keep just one person from feeling they are alone with this disease.