Empathy not annoyance when facing depression

Having paid, I’d been at the counter three whole minutes waiting for action, and, looking around, I noticed the shop attendant who was going to make the coffee I’d ordered seemed a little dreamy.

She was busy with something else but didn’t appear hurried. I jangled my keys in an unconscious effort to awaken her to the fact I was still there, all the while feeling a little guilty that I was so focused on time (as is me). That seemed to generate footsteps toward me, though I still wasn’t sure.

She pressed some buttons to authorise some pumps and then ever so nonchalantly arrived at the coffee machine. She seemed so disinterested and, actually, this is what I was really thinking, pathetic. Didn’t she know I was there? Didn’t she know I expected my coffee promptly?

I told myself to be patient—the echo in my spirit said to me, ‘there could be more to this.’ It’s the Voice that I cannot explain, and it doesn’t come from me, but from within me.

She looked for the beans. In the fridge. Not there. In an adjacent cupboard. Not there either. In another cupboard… eventually in the fourth place she looked she found beans.

She ripped the bag open and beans spread everywhere. She stopped for a moment. Without another thought, with beans all over the place, she proceeded to fill the grinding machine. Her shoes crunched on the beans beneath her feet as she moved. At no point was there eye contact between us, even though she’s served me several times before and we’ve conversed more than once. She is a really nice, kind-hearted person.

But something was up. As she began brewing the coffee, something wasn’t working, so she tipped the contents into the drain. It was on the second iteration of attempting to process the coffee grounds that it finally hit me what was going on.

She stopped and the look of utter defeat glazed across her face. She was a picture of brokenness before me, and suddenly all of what I’d taken in that past five minutes or so began to make so much sense.

Now, I don’t know for sure that she was depressed, but I noticed enough in her countenance to be empathetic. It could just have been a bad day, but God spoke to me in this event to open the eyes of my heart to what others are going through when my life is fine.

What I learned was this.

How little of what I’ve experienced do I see in others who are afflicted. Even though I’m much acquainted with brokenness, grief and depression, I so quickly forget the plight of the vulnerable when I’m either in a good place myself or when I’m in a hurry. Still so often people have to tell me they’re struggling. I do not read minds, and often wish I had more acute discernment.

The face of depressions isn’t obvious. If she had have told me she was depressed when I ordered my coffee, I would have been implicitly understanding and patient.

Yet, who does that? Who is ever transparent (especially with strangers) about their mental ill-health? Most of the time when we’re depressed and in a working or public environment, we are faking it until we make it. These are incredibly scary situations for people feeling especially vulnerable.

People should never be made to feel bad when they’re trying their best, especially when it’s for others.

To judge less. I was so quick to jump the gun and say in my thoughts, “Wow, can you believe this service!” Yet, that’s our default, isn’t it? We pay for the service and we come to expect to be served! The last thing any of us are prepared for is the kind of performance we typically find from a depressed person. They themselves would love to have the capacity to perform better, and often when we’re depressed, we don’t have that capacity—and it isn’t our fault. I recall times when I couldn’t manage the simplest of tasks; times when I have broken down in shame for feeling like a failure.

To forgive myself, but also to learn. I had to forgive myself, or more appropriately receive God’s grace afresh, for my quickly condemning spirit. I didn’t see what I might otherwise have. When I saw what I needed to see, understanding and empathy were possible. What I learned is how I must see with eyes of empathy more often.

~

Those bearing the marks of depression, who carry about their being the signs and symptoms of depression, are not always so obvious to notice. Perhaps some are quietly hoping their depression would be seen and validated. Many however don’t want to be noticed in such ways. And the last thing someone with depression wants or needs is unhelpful advice or criticism.

Had I been less curious and more hurried and less empathic, I could easily have given her the impression I was unimpressed by her apparent sloppiness. Think of the damage I could have inflicted if I were critical and condemning! But it was clear that her mind was amess with automatic negative thoughts (ANTs). When we’re depressed, we’re bombarded with ANTs, principally when we’re under performance or social pressure—especially a double-whammy mix of both.

Depression in the people we encounter can be hidden in all manner of things we don’t like. It can be a challenge to understand that another person is struggling. We may quickly fail for a lack of empathy. But as we appreciate Jesus imploring us to treat others as we wish to be treated, we see that we need to be understanding of others in the struggles they may have, as we ourselves would appreciate that support in ours.

Photo by Alex Iby on Unsplash