I’ve gotten hooked on the show, Ginny & Georgia. It’s a dramedy about a young, single mother named Georgia and her two kids who make the move to a small, wealthy town in New England and try to make a fresh start.
In a nutshell, Georgia’s got a lot of big secrets. Ginny, her teenager daughter, carries loads of trauma quietly behind the scenes, most of which points back to things she’s been exposed to throughout her childhood with Georgia. There’s a lot of fluff in the show, but the show surprisingly delves into pretty heavy stuff like self harm, eating disorders, abortion, substance abuse and mental health.
Ginny’s main love interest is a boy named Marcus who lives across the street. Marcus carries baggage of his own, including a severe struggle with crippling depression, which causes him to eventually end things with Ginny.
He’s a frustrating character in that he can’t seem to get out of his own way. Can’t he see that Ginny is good for him? Can’t he be happy since he got the girl? Can’t he see how lucky he is? He makes poor choices, including turning to alcohol to cope with his emotions.
But Marcus…I understood him. My eyes were glued to the screen when Marcus described his depression. Yes the show has silly teen drama and humor and the characters are often over the top but when Marcus talked about his depression…I found myself nodding along. Yes. Yes. This is what a struggle with mental health is like. I was floored, actually, because the show doesn’t always get everything right, but their depiction of depression and the words that Marcus uses to describe what he feels…Spot on.
Here’s what he says in season 2, episode 5:
It’s the difference between remembering what a room looks like and actually walking through the door. Being inside it again, feeling it. When the episode starts, it can be slow at first. An intrusive thought. “ I don’t wanna be here,” but then it’s gone. You bat it away like a fly or a bad smell. When it hits you fully though, when you’re finally in it, it’s everything. It’s who you are, you’re nothing else. On the outside you look the same, smiling and pretending is so much work, but inside, it’s a different story. You start to hate yourself. You’re so alone, so unbelievably alone. And you can be with someone you love but you’re not really with them. We think we know what’s going on with other people but we don’t. You never really know what’s going on inside someone else’s head. Everyone is fighting a battle you can’t see. We all have blind spots. And you know it’s you, and it’s also exhausting. So goddamn shitty and exhausting and it’s helpless. It’s a void and existing takes so much energy, you wanna sink into a hole or nothing where no one talk to you and you don’t have to smile or talk or…be. Anyway it’s familiar. I’ve been here before, gotten out of it before, but the getting out part becomes the room that you remember but aren’t in. And that’s what’s scary
My struggle was more along the lines of anxiety than depression, but I can relate to this quote. To the pretending, to the intrusive thoughts, to the all-consuming nature of a mental health struggle, to the feeling of loneliness, to the exhaustion, to the helplessness.
Season 3 just came out and again Marcus nailed it when Ginny asks him what depression feels like.
He says:
“It feels like…uh…my arm’s been cut off. There’s blood squirting everywhere. Feels urgent, like – like there should be doctors running around suturing everything. You can’t see it. It’s invisible. You can’t see the severed arm.”
A severed arm. Painful. Scary. An emergency. That’s what a mental health struggle is like. Depression. Anxiety. An invisible severed arm.
It’s chilling, his description, but it’s accurate and I think it’s important to talk about it. I applaud the show for tackling an issue like this and for actually getting it right, for helping someone feel less alone, for taking a stab at describing something that isn’t easy to describe.
It’s equally important, though, to give people hope.
This description and these feelings, they are scary. As Marcus said, they feel like an emergency. But feelings aren’t always truthful and as awful and as frightening and as urgent as it may feel, these feelings will not last. There is hope. Hope for feeling like yourself again. Hope for feeling joy again. Hope for recovery. Hope for the future.
There are lots of ways to treat depression and anxiety. Various types of therapy and counseling. Strategies to calm your mind and body. Exercise. Medication. Getting good sleep.
There isn’t just one road to healing, so if something isn’t working for you, try something else. There is always hope. A different therapist. A different medication. A different outlook. An answered prayer. There is always hope.
The struggle might feel like an invisible severed arm, but there are many people who feel exactly like this – right now.
I struggled for years with crippling anxiety. Life isn’t always perfect today, but I haven’t felt that crippling anxiety or despair for five years. There were times I never thought I’d feel differently. I thought I’d just have to live with it and sometimes that felt impossible and scary. I’m grateful every day that wasn’t the case.
I believe there is hope and healing for everyone.
We are never alone and never hopeless.
The Hope Antidote 