A writer reflects on her own struggles while helping a friend cope with depression, and discovers what she can do—or cannot.
Madeline Chu-Ang
After many months of trying to be a listening ear and an encourager to my friend, Regina, I found myself dragged into her hellish hole.
Regina and I were supposed to meet when she informed me that she had a miscarriage. Having experienced two devastating miscarriages myself, I was broken-hearted on her behalf. I could identify with Regina as she shared her deep grief and anguish. We shared a sense of kindred spirit over the trauma of losing our babies.
Soon, I found out that Regina was pregnant again. When she finally gave birth to Rebecca, I was absolutely thrilled.
A Downwards Spiral
A Downwards Spiral
The updates from Regina turned from delightful to distressing as she discovered that Rebecca had many medical issues. After a battery of tests and months of agonising wait, Regina broke the bad news to me: Rebecca was diagnosed with a rare degenerating disease.
As Regina spiralled into depression, she kept me updated with details of her suicidal tendencies. This petrified me. Her messages, written incoherently and in rapid succession, began to take control of my entity. I began to worry incessantly that Regina would take her own life, and I wouldn’t be able to stop her in time.
As Regina had opened herself and her wounds so vulnerably to me, I felt responsible for her and wanted to save her from suicide. She seemed so alone. She felt so abandoned by God and the people who were supposed to protect her. I was scared that Regina would carry out her threat to kill herself, and I wouldn’t be able to handle the guilt and responsibility.
I begged Regina to get help. She replied that she was seeing a psychiatrist, but the medication did not help her sleep nor feel less anxious. As her phone messages became increasingly frequent and increasingly distressing, my heart went out more and more to her.
As a Ms Fix-It-All imbued with an intense sense of compassion, I naturally and unknowingly assumed responsibility for Regina once she started to download her pain to me. And, as a writer highly sensitive to words, Regina’s hurts, communicated dramatically and drastically through her messages, uncannily pierced right into my soul like multiple mini-daggers.
Finally, as a leader in a Bible study group, shepherding and mentoring other ladies, I would instinctively come alongside others to be their confidante and cheerleader.
Involved . . . Or Too Invested?
Involved . . . Or Too Invested?
There were moments, very fleeting though, when I wondered if I was getting too emotionally invested in Regina’s life and struggles. Her woes were starting to affect my well-being.
Whenever that question arose, however, I would stop myself swiftly. That line of thinking seemed to be selfish. It would be irresponsible of me, I reasoned, to leave my friend alone in her struggles at this time. She needed me and was barely surviving. I had come this far with Regina, I told myself. I simply couldn’t abandon her!
But I couldn’t help thinking that I was starting to suffer, too. I had relied on my altruistic intentions, past experiences of mentoring others, and trust in God to empower me as a superwoman (in this case, a superfriend). But now, I was going downhill along with Regina.
I had started strong in my conviction to pull Regina out of her darkness. I would reply—swiftly—to each of her messages, giving her words of encouragement and deep empathy, as well as inspiring Bible verses.
Yet, nothing I did seemed to help my friend. No matter how many messages I sent, she did not feel better or more hopeful. No matter how much I cried along with her, I could not lift her out of her pit of despair. Instead, slowly but surely, I began to be sucked into her web of depressive thoughts and defeated words.
Each new message she sent me would make my heart sink and send a fresh wave of melancholy sweeping over me. Each message—and they began to number in the hundreds each day—would cause me to feel drained and deflated.
As Regina shared more and more of what was happening to her on a daily basis, I could feel a cloud of heaviness descending upon me. Her husband was distancing himself from the family and burying himself in his work as a coping mechanism. Her daughter almost lost her life. She almost took her own.
As I read these heartbreaking, gut-wrenching messages, it seemed that I was finding it harder to breathe myself as I imagined Regina going through her endless heartaches.
Turning to God for Help
Turning to God for Help
Finally, I realised I could take it no longer.
I ran to God and cried out to Him for help. I told Him I could bear it no longer on my own. With tears streaming down my face, I poured the whole matter of Regina out to Him, lamenting my own state of misery.
How did I end up feeling burnt and burnt-out when my intention was pure and good? I asked Him. I just want to help my friend out of depression. Isn’t it a Christian thing to do?
Then, I heard God speaking to me.
His voice was soft, but deeply penetrating. It was as if He was speaking next to my ear and inside my heart. He declared, unequivocally:
Wow. What a wake-up call for me! All at once, I was filled with relief and horror. Relieved to know that I was not responsible for Regina’s life. And horrified to realise that I had somehow assumed the role of her messiah.
In my fatigue and weariness, God whispered these healing words to me: “Do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand” (Isaiah 41:10).
A New Perspective of Caring
A New Perspective of Caring
It took me some time to process this life-transforming revelation from God. As I did so, however, I began to feel increasingly liberated—and light-hearted. God helped me to learn to look at Regina’s problems through His lens instead of mine, and see my own folly before I got sucked deeper into the nightmarish pit.
All along, I had thought that I was being a good friend to Regina by journeying with her through her pain selflessly and sacrificially. In my simple desire to help her get out of her depression, I thought God would bless my honourable quest. Now, however, I realised that I needed to maintain healthy boundaries between us. I had mistakenly assumed the role of Regina’s mini-messiah, thinking I could lighten her load by suffering alongside her.
As I began to ground myself in my identity as God’s child—and no longer a mini-messiah—it helped to frame my prayer and my posture. I was able to start surrendering Regina to God. Even as I prayed for her and continued to care deeply about her mental state, I no longer felt responsible for her depression or blamed myself for not being able to save her from it.
I was reminded that throughout my own suffering, God’s presence was always with me. I had wanted God’s power, but He promised me His presence. When things had gone wrong in my life and did not make sense to me, God always came through for me. He was always there and always faithful. I told God that I had a deep longing to share that same message of hope with Regina.
New Words for A New Prayer
New Words for A New Prayer
And so I prayed as I had never prayed before: “God, Regina says she feels so alone! Please give me words for Regina to let her know that she is never alone!”
Fervently and feverishly, I prayed.
Immediately, I felt an inner swirling. It was followed by a birthing of words. I was overcome by an intense urge to type words bubbling up inside me. Grabbing my handphone, I started to type frantically, and within half an hour, I wrote a poem, “Never Alone”. I sent it to Regina.
Regina’s tone changed slightly, and became more optimistic. She said that she was touched to receive a poem written especially for her, and that she enjoyed reading and returning to it. It helped her, she said.
Over the next few weeks, I would continue to pen more than 20 poems for Regina.
The poems were my responses to Regina’s messages about suicides. No more would I hold my breath and suffer vicariously. No more would I carry her load on my own. Instead, I would transfer it to God and simply say a prayer of surrender for Regina. And, as and when the Holy Spirit inspired me, I would send her a poem to remind her of God’s unfailing attributes.
This was how my ministry of encouragement through praise poems began. I would let my poems point to God and His unfailing attributes. When other friends began to confide their problems to me, I would likewise acknowledge to God and myself that I had no answers for them; I could only pray, surrender them to God, and point them to the Messiah by sending them my poems.
I am learning that, as I journey with others, I must be wise. As medieval reformer Bernard of Clairvaux wrote: “If then you are wise, you will show yourself rather as a reservoir than as a canal. A canal spreads abroad water as it receives it, and a reservoir waits until it is filled before overflowing, and thus without loss to itself communicates its superabundant water.”
Regina is still battling depression. Rebecca is still fighting for her life.
Whenever I am at a loss as to what to say to my depressed friends, I run to my Messiah in total surrender. I am still praying, and still hopeful, that Regina would one day realise that God is always with her and she is never alone.
I’m never alone for
My Father’s always near.
He sees my heartaches
And He hurts when I tear.
I’m never forsaken,
My Lord watches with care.
He is behind the scene
Superintending there.
I’m never out of His sight,
My Maker’s beckoning.
He covers me under His
Strong protective wings.
I’m never out of His will,
My Master knows all.
He allows the trials yet
He picks me when I fall.
I’m never deserted for
My Friend walks with me.
He speaks of His promises,
Grants me salvation free.
I’m never lost for
My Shepherd is always here.
His presence comforts me
Through dark valleys of fear.
I’m never alone,
Never left alone.
Never without God;
He calls me His own.
(Names have been changed to protect privacy.)
Madeline is a published poet, writer, and editor. She writes from a heart that sees God in a prism of pain and praise. And through inspiration from the Holy Spirit, her words turn a journey of despair into a pilgrimage of hope. Check out her poems on Instagram at @madaboutgod.
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