Stormy Weather Friends : A former nurse found few understood her illness when she became depressed. Support from a peer helped her through it.

An episode of clinical depression is nothing like the blues that most people are able to shake by immersing themselves in work or play.

When Sherrie Stevens is depressed, nothing makes her feel better. And the people who try to help often make her feel worse.

It’s not that they don’t mean well, Stevens says. It’s just that few people understand the nature of the illness that can have such a devastating effect on sufferers’ lives.

Too often, she says, people assume that those who are depressed would simply snap out of it if they tried hard enough.

“The chronically depressed are often stereotyped as self-pitying people of weak character,” says Stevens, who was assistant director of nursing at UCI Medical Center when she began suffering from depression in 1985.

“People don’t understand that the problem is physical.”

They say things like, “Let’s go for a walk--it’ll make you feel better.” But that doesn’t work because, according to Stevens, clinically depressed people “are physically incapable of experiencing pleasure.”

Stevens says unrealistic expectations from friends and relatives cause many severely depressed people to withdraw from social contact. She warns: “Criticism or judgment for not following your suggestions may even take them one step closer to suicide.

“When loved ones fail to understand them and act like they know what will make them happy, it makes them feel hopeless and alone.”

Stevens, a single, 46-year-old Downey resident who gave up her nursing career because of her illness, suggests that loved ones try to look at the world through the eyes of a depressed person: “Their world is painful and without hope. Actual color is gone. A sunny day is gray to them. Good things are twisted and distorted with negative thinking.”

Depressed people feel guilty because they can’t respond to the world the way others do, Stevens says.

“Rides in the country, walks and all other efforts to distract them don’t help. The pain goes with them.”

Stevens understands that pain all too well because she has had little relief from depression since she started experiencing symptoms such as loss of appetite, fatigue, insomnia and anxiety in 1985. Even though she is a nurse, she waited two years to seek help because, she says, she wanted to make sure she had a “legitimate” illness before seeing a doctor. By the time depression was diagnosed in 1987, her condition was so serious that she was hospitalized for 10 weeks.

Her weight dropped from 142 to 92 pounds (it’s now back up to 120), and she says a long period of poor eating resulted in malnutrition and caused permanent short-term memory loss that prevents her from working.

Stevens says she has been in psychiatric hospitals four times since that first stay, in each case because she was suicidal, and her doctor felt she needed protection. Last summer, while she was visiting relatives in Illinois, she tried to take her life with an overdose of pills, she says.

She had gone to see her family with the hope of receiving emotional support, but her illness wasn’t even discussed--not even after she spent two days in intensive care recovering from her suicide attempt.

“I didn’t communicate enough with them and didn’t give them a fair chance to respond,” she concedes. “But they didn’t want to talk about it either. They just wanted to focus on happy things. They made me feel like I’m welcome only when I’m well.”

Although she has been free of depression for the past six months, she admits: “I still have a stash of pills in case it comes back. I want to keep my options open for terminating my life if I get a depression that won’t go away. When life has no quality, what good is it?”

An estimated 10 million Americans suffer from serious depressive disorder. Yet, according to the National Mental Health Assn., these are the most common and treatable of all mental illnesses. Most cases can be treated effectively with antidepressant medications, which are often used in combination with psychotherapy.

But Stevens is among the 5% to 10% of patients who are known as “treatment resistant.” Her psychiatrist, Himasiri De Silva of Orange, says most patients respond quickly to medication but that in Stevens’ case, an unusual amount of trial and error was required. “We had to try many combinations of medication until we found something that worked for her,” he says.

Although Stevens’ case is not typical, she is among the many victims of depression who experience their first episodes in midlife. Depression can occur at any age, but it is most common among women between 25 and 44 and men between 55 and 70. Some victims have just one episode, but for many it is a recurrent or chronic illness. (For some, it shows up as part of manic-depressive disorder, which involves severe mood swings.)

No one knows what causes depression, but studies show that some people may have a genetic tendency to develop the illness and that others have a chemical imbalance in the brain that makes them susceptible.

In spite of the fact that treatment is successful in most cases, an estimated 80% of those who suffer from depression never get treatment, and 15% commit suicide, according to mental health experts.

Melvyn Sterling, a general internist who practices in Orange, says many patients--and even doctors--fail to recognize signs of depression because “it’s not a respectable illness.”

He explains: “It’s OK to have a broken leg or appendicitis or cancer--everybody can sympathize. But in our culture, everyone is expected to pull themselves up by their own bootstraps. If you have something like depression, you’re supposed to take care of it by yourself. If you don’t, you’re looked at as weak or lazy.

“It’s heartbreaking to see someone confront an illness like this and not get support from family, employers or co-workers.”

Stevens, who has no family nearby, says her friends gradually withdrew from her as they began to see the depth of her depression.

“It’s a miracle I’m alive. I was so suicidal. The only reason I’m here today is because I had one friend who stuck by me. She let me cry on her shoulder. She listened and never judged me.”

That friend is 47-year-old Jackie Nason, who took Stevens under her wing when they met as patients in a psychiatric hospital in 1987.

“I saw Sherrie, and my heart went out to her,” says Nason, who went through a bout of depression after her three grown children left home. “She seemed so alone and withdrawn, like she just needed somebody. So I went up to her and asked her to be my roommate.”

Today, Stevens rents a house from Nason, who lives just a few blocks away. They visit each other or talk by phone every day, and every Friday they go out to lunch and a movie.

Stevens says her friend has always seemed to know how to support her, even when she’d call Nason in the middle of the night and just cry.

“All people need when they’re hurting is someone to listen to them,” Nason says. “They just need hugs and warmth and someone they can open up to and cry with.”

Nason says she has always been the type of person to reach out to others. “I’ve always gotten a lot of joy out of looking after people. If somebody needs me, that’s my priority.”

She has made Stevens a big part of her life. When Stevens had to sell her house in Orange County because her insurance coverage for psychiatric care had run out, Nason encouraged her to move to Downey so they could see each other more.

During Stevens’ worst times, Nason notified her friend’s psychiatrist whenever she seemed suicidal. And once, Nason--who is afraid to drive on freeways--made the trip from Downey to Orange in the middle of the night to get Stevens to the hospital.

Today, Nason not only provides companionship for Stevens, but also helps her stay on track by reminding her to take her medication and keeping a separate calendar to help her remember important dates.

Nason says it’s not always easy to relate to Stevens, who has been in no mood to converse during many of their Friday outings and has a habit of pacing in the lobby during movies.

“I’ve done a lot of talking,” Nason says, “but I’ve learned that just the contact and the chance to get out helps her.”

Stevens has also received compassion from the members of a support group that meets every Saturday at St. Joseph Hospital in Orange.

“I can say anything I want and they understand. They don’t criticize me,” she says, noting that she continues to attend meetings even though her depression is under control because she wants to encourage others.

She also wants to educate the public so that victims of depression can get the support they need from those closest to them.

“They desperately need family and friends to acknowledge that their pain is unbearable,” she says.

And often, she adds, they need help getting through the day.

“Tell them you will be beside them until the world is pretty again. Help them live one day at a time.”