David Brooks:
Yes, well, that was something I didn’t understand.
So, my oldest friend was a guy named Peter. And he was a wonderful guy. We played a zillion hours of basketball together. And he was — as my wife said, he was extraordinary and ordinary at the same time. He’s like a man the way you’re supposed to be a man, like gentle, but powerful, a dad like you’re supposed to be a dad. He was just so proud of his sons.
And he had a wonderful life for — and then, at age 57, depression hit. And I realized that, even though I thought I was a well-educated person, A, I didn’t know what depression was. You can’t understand depression by extrapolating from your own moments of sadness.
A friend of mine put it well. Depression is a malfunction in the instrument we use to determine reality. So, when you’re seeing a depressed — seeing the world — a person is seeing the world, they’re seeing a distorted image.
And in my friend’s case, he had these lying, obsessive voices in her head — his head: You’re not worthwhile. Nobody would miss you if you’re gone.
And I didn’t know how to be with a person going through this. And so I made mistakes in the beginning. A lot of it was our phone calls over COVID. And so I would say: “Like, here’s an idea for you to get out of depression. You liked going and doing service trips in Vietnam. And you should do that again.”
And I learned, when you do that, all you’re doing is, you’re showing the depressed person you don’t get it, because there’s not ideas they are missing. It’s energy. And so that was a stupid thing I should have known.
What I came to understand gradually over the years, you’re there to recognize the situation and saying, I’m here for you. This sucks. But I’m here for you. I’m never leaving.
And I regret not doing more small touches, like, just thinking of you. I’m sending you a text, no response necessary. It’s just presence. It’s just the art of presence.
And so dealing with someone when they’re depressed was a challenge which — a hard challenge. I learned a lot. And Pete never recovered. He succumbed to suicide. And it was brutal. It was brutal. It was like — when your oldest friend is gone, it’s like you go to Montana and there are no mountains there.
