Volunteerism to Manage Depression

Fraggle Rock Bottom

To be honest, I used to judge people that used anti-depressants.

Six years studying psychology doesn’t fully prepare you to grasp the symptoms of depression. Difficulty concentrating, feelings of hopelessness, fatigue, insomnia, loneliness; I could list them, but I didn’t understand them. I thought that people who went on psychotropics were weak. Harsh, I know.

You know what changes your mind about anti-depressants?

Having your stepmom pick you up off the bathroom floor because you don’t have the emotional or physical strength to do it yourself. I was in my late twenties, recently divorced, unemployed, living with my parents (amazing though they are), had very few social connections in Vegas, and couldn’t see the light at the end of the tunnel.

My solace in adulthood (as it was in childhood) is Fraggle Rock. If you have never watched this amazing Jim Henson creation, you have my permission to stop reading this blog post, binge watch a few days of Fraggle Rock, and then come back to the post. I can wait….

Amazing, right? So as a fan of Fraggles (Fragglephile?) I often turn to these puppets to solve life’s great questions. After my stepmom dragged me out of the bathroom (and after I made an appointment with a therapist), I sat down on the couch and escaped into the caves of Fraggle Rock.

I had hit “Fraggle Rock Bottom”.

The very first episode I watched featured Wembley Fraggle, an adorable yellow and somewhat ditzy character who frequently dropped bombs of brilliance. Wembley was having a particularly rough day, feeling like he didn’t have a “purpose”.  He explained ever so eloquently: “What’s wrong with me? I feel so strange. I feel like crying. I can’t even cry. Now I really feel bad. It’s like being lonely, but you don’t want to talk to anybody. And like being hungry, but you don’t want to eat. It’s like being sleepy in your head, but your feet feel like playing.”

Wembley had read my mind.

I wish I could say that I never had to go on anti-depressants, but my parents were truly afraid for my safety. However, I don’t chock up my “recovery” to those little chemical altering pills; I was already feeling better by the time they supposedly kicked in. I believe that I felt better because I stopped focusing on how I couldn’t help myself, and started focusing on how I could help others.

Drawing on my lifetime love of animals (and since there are no Muppet rescues), I started researching animal rescue groups in town. I began dabbling in adoption events – sweating my butt off in the summer heat, fetching water for the animals awaiting homes.

I felt needed. I felt like I was making a difference. I felt… useful.

My conversations with my parents became less “I’m sad and I can’t do anything about it” and more “Can I pleeeeaaase bring this dog home” (I didn’t, but it felt really good when we found them homes). I began to dedicate more of my time to animal advocacy, volunteering as an educational ambassador, teaching people about adoption, responsible pet parenting, and kid’s safety. Plus, there were so many benefits that I never even imagined (watch for these in future blog posts).

When you are in a dark place, when you can’t ever imagine feeling happy again, when you are ready to post a sign above your door that says “Abandon Hope All Ye Who Enter”, go do something nice for someone else.