The Light in the Darkness: Overcoming Depressive symptoms with the Teresas.

When I was in sixth grade I really had no idea about the lives of the Saints. I was a recent convert who was still trying to figure out why we kept standing and sitting so much at mass. I remember one day during Catechism we watched a short documentary on Mother Teresa (now St. Teresa of Calcutta). I was amazed by her humility, her dedication to the most marginalized, and her love for God amid poverty and intense suffering. In seventh grade when it was time to choose a saint which in the Catholic Church happens when young people become confirmed to “sustains the hope of believers by proposing the saints to them as models and intercessors” (CCC 828),  I wanted so desperately to choose her. However, she wasn’t canonized as a saint yet in the Church. So I did what any millennial child would do, and conducted a simple google search to see what saint I resonated with the most. 

That’s when I came across St. Therese of Lisieux. St. Therese is known as the “Little Flower” and developing a path to sanctity known as the “Little Way.”  I was struck by how young she was when she entered religious life and her simple way of approaching faith. I decided I would choose her to be my Confirmation saint. 

As I grew in my faith and advanced in years my perspective on life became less “flowery” and I felt like I could not connect with what I believed was St. Therese’s romanticized way of relating to God. My faith in God seemed anything but simple and the path to sanctity seemed tirelessly grim. There was nothing romantic or “little” about it. There were no flowers raining down from Heaven but instead, all felt desolate like I was in an abandoned field of weeds.

Needless to say, at this time in my life, I admit I was suffering from symptoms of Depression. A kind of mental suffering that made it difficult to see me, the world, and God as good. Often times, it felt like I was an empty shell, or a delicate ceramic bowl sitting at the edge of a table, ready to crash to the floor and crumble into a million pieces. Everything was just so dark and lifeless. 

And when I could feel, all that lingered was a deep pain in my heart that I felt so ashamed for experiencing in the first place. 

But I wasn’t alone. In fact, the women who I was so drawn to in my early adolescence knew this pain too. After, reading more about the life of St. Teresa of Calcutta and St. Therese of Lisieux I learned that they too suffered from symptoms of Depression. They too experienced a great “darkness” that made them feel empty and wondering if God was even there. 

They were women who grappled with grief, abandonment, and discouragement in the face of what felt unfair and unjustified, and that I could relate to. 

St. Teresa of Calcutta in a letter to her friend wrote: 

Jesus has a very special love for you. [But] as for me, the silence and the emptiness is so great, that I look and do not see—Listen and do not hear—the tongue moves [in prayer] but does not speak…” 

One of the greatest Saints of our time, the woman who inspired me to be Catholic and to live my life in the service of others, doubted Jesus’s love for her and felt the silence and emptiness that I thought I was alone in. 

And the Saint I had chosen to be my model and guide for Confirmation, wrote from four to fourteen she was the “the most unhappy.” She had doubts about God’s existence and the days leading up to her death, she even thought about ending her life. 

And how can this be? How is it possible to be a great saint but also struggle so profusely in this life? 

Well, it might sound simplistic but I believe the answer is God’s grace. 

God offers grace to all humanity.

Whether you believe or do not believe, whether you are a great saint or a great sinner, God’s grace is always in reach. God’s grace is what helps us to bear our suffering. It’s what helps many people who struggle with mental illness get out of their bed and begin a new day. When I look back I saw many “moments of grace” where God was so present in my suffering even when I could not see it. God provided me with friends when I needed it the most, a great spiritual director who looked at me with compassion and love, a therapist who helped me to understand my wounds and give them a name, along with so many other experiences that have helped me with my bouts of depressive symptoms. 

And I know it’s not because I am Catholic or deserving of this grace, but it’s just because I am human. The Creator loves and is so present to all of His Creation. Being Catholic just provides me with a lens in which I can see this grace more actively in my life. It’s the same lens that made St. Therese of Lisieux say, 

"I have experienced tribulations of all sorts and suffered a great deal. When I was a child, suffering used to make me sad; now I taste its bitterness with joy and peace." 

Suffering through God’s grace is transformed into joy and peace. No matter what we experience in this life, whether it be tremendous loss like in the life of St. Therese of Lisieux, or witnessing so much pain in others like St. Teresa of Calcutta, we can get through it and experience God’s light breaking through the darkness. 

Although I feel I am no longer experiencing that darkness, sometimes those depressive symptoms emerge reminding me again of how much I need God. I need God’s grace to see me through and bring me His light. 

It is this need for God that I believe made St. Therese and St. Teresa great saints in the Church, revered by so many. Even when suffering felt insurmountable, they wholeheartedly brought their pain to God and never gave up. When their mental and physical health wavered, they let their spiritual health become a strong anchor, grounding them in deep purpose and hope. 

“While I do not have the joy of faith, I am trying to carry out its works at least.” -St. Therese of Lisieux 

This is an important lesson for me and I think for all of us, who suffer from various mental and physical ailments. 

Even when we do not have the “joy” of faith, of life, of relationship, of body, we are encouraged to “carry it out.” We keep going, not because it’s easy or simple by any means, but because we know deep down it’s the only way forward that leads us to something better.

And I can imagine St. Therese and St. Teresa in that something better. I can imagine them in a place where there is no more suffering (where every tear will be wiped away from their eyes, where there will no more death, or mourning or pain. The old order of things will be passed away. Revelation 21:4). 

Perhaps, we too can also imagine ourselves with them one day, laughing and dancing no longer in darkness, but in perpetual light.