Depression – why it was never about sadness.

I start to think there really is no cure for depression, that happiness is an ongoing battle, and I wonder if it isn’t one I’ll have to fight for as long as I live. I wonder if it’s worth it.
Elizabeth Wurtzel

I was diagnosed with depression as a teenager. I can’t remember the exact year, or the way in which I was diagnosed. I cannot remember if it was my own doctor or a psychiatrist. I simply know that one day I was given the answer to the all-encompassing numbness and apathy I had felt for most of my life.

I was a melancholy child, prone to fits of high-anxiety and crippling shyness. Shy and often self-absorbed, I preferred playing on my own to joining the groups of screaming schoolfriends; it’s not that I didn’t want to join in, I just didn’t see a reason to. I had friends, but my habit of wandering off on my own and staring into space for hours alienated me in a way I didn’t understand until much, much later. As a child, you assume that everybody else thinks the way you do, and it’s only when you’re old enough to see outside your small world that you realise that not everybody lies awake at night wondering what it would feel like to be dead, how your funeral would pan out. Not every seven year old takes a large handful of hayfever tablets, just to see what might happen.

I have often thought that I was born depressed. Not born with depression, but naturally prone to feeling numb and unhappy with nothing in particular. Depression runs in my family, and genetically I have both a mother and father who have lived with it. Environmentally, I’ve seen family members crushed under the weight of depression throughout my life.

So, what is depression?

For me, it’s a feeling of total lack of respect, for myself and others. It’s a deep, dark numbness which can’t be alleviated by anything. It’s the inability to laugh or cry with any real emotion; it’s the total lack of emotion, the opposite of feeling. It’s a wall which comes slamming down around me, removing me from the world and trapping me behind unbreakable glass. I can see the world, I can see and hear people and conversations, but they’re blurred as though seen through frosted windows in a soundproofed room. It’s when food and drink is tasteless and unsatisfying, when music becomes an annoyance rather than a joy, it’s the need to keep my bedroom curtains closed at all times because the sun is simply too much to cope with.

Depression is the beast which makes me sleep for days on end, an unrelenting tiredness. It’s lying awake at night, counting the seconds until morning when I can tick another failed day off my ever-growing list. It’s the inability to lift a coffee cup without huge effort, the climb up the stairs which feels like a trip up Mt. Everest. It’s staring at a wall for hours, completely unaware of time passing.

I once had to fill in a form in the local out-of-hours GP clinic, after refusing to get out of bed for over three weeks. I wasn’t eating, was sleeping strange hours, and felt removed from everything around me. I started to consider just how easy it would be to overdose or simply disappear. In a rare fit of concern for myself, I decided to get medical help, if only to save my family the heartache of thinking they’d failed me.

One of the questions was, “have you felt sad or tearful for more than two weeks?”

I hadn’t. I hadn’t felt anything, anything at all. I hadn’t cried or felt sorry for myself, and I remember thinking that I would give anything to truly feel sadness. To feel something real. As a result, I was sent away with the advice to “try and take it easy for a while”. What I wanted was a referral, even a place in the local mental hospital. Anything to save me from sinking further into the dark blanket which had become my best friend and protector. I wasn’t crazy enough though, I was supposedly coping; all because I wasn’t sad.

I have attempted suicide in the past. However, it has never been when I’m depressed, because depression saps my energy and takes away the will to do anything, let alone end my own life. In a way, depression has saved me many times because although the thoughts and feelings are there, the sheer effort of peeling myself off the bed and finding tablets or a razor is just too much for my exhausted brain to contemplate. Each time I have attempted to kill myself, it’s been during a fit of anxiety, during a panic attack. When I experience those, I have boundless energy. I can cry, I can laugh, I can even run. However, depression takes away my ability to do any of those things. It removes everything I love; music, reading, gaming, writing. It puts them out of my reach and convinces me that there’s no point in even trying.

I don’t shower. I don’t brush my hair. I don’t wash my face or brush my teeth for weeks on end. I stay in my pyjamas, too lethargic to even get dressed. At my worst, I sleep with the light on. I ignore the phone and answer questions with grunts and silence.

Wikipedia describes major depressive disorder (what I suffer from) as:

A person having a major depressive episode usually exhibits a very low mood, which pervades all aspects of life, and an inability to experience pleasure in activities that were formerly enjoyed. Depressed people may be preoccupied with, or ruminate over, thoughts and feelings of worthlessness, inappropriate guilt or regret, helplessness, hopelessness, and self-hatred.[7] In severe cases, depressed people may have symptoms of psychosis. These symptoms include delusions or, less commonly, hallucinations, usually unpleasant.[8] Other symptoms of depression include poor concentration and memory (especially in those with melancholic or psychotic features),[9] withdrawal from social situations and activities, reduced sex drive, and thoughts of death or suicide.

Insomnia is common among the depressed. In the typical pattern, a person wakes very early and cannot get back to sleep,[10] but insomnia can also include difficulty falling asleep.[11] Insomnia affects at least 80% of depressed people.[11] Hypersomnia, or oversleeping, can also happen,[10] affecting 15% of depressed people.[11] Some antidepressants may also cause insomnia due to their stimulating effect.[12]

A depressed person may report multiple physical symptoms such as fatigue, headaches, or digestive problems; physical complaints are the most common presenting problem in developing countries, according to the World Health Organization’s criteria for depression.[13] Appetite often decreases, with resulting weight loss, although increased appetite and weight gain occasionally occur.[7] Family and friends may notice that the person’s behavior is either agitated or lethargic.[10]

en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Major_depressive_disorder

I think that ‘low mood’ is being very generous. It’s the lowest mood it’s possible to feel. It bypasses the entire idea of mood and becomes a feeling in its own right, one which there is no word for. Psychosis is something I can relate to; I often have auditory hallucinations when severely depressed, or see shadows out of the corner of my eye. I’d be afraid if I wasn’t so incapable of reacting. Sometimes I hear whispering in my head, unclear words and mutterings which seem to come at me from every angle.

Self-hatred does feature, but usually I feel so detatched from everything that my whole sense of ‘self’ is skewed and pointless. I feel entirely unreal, like in the book Girl, Interrupted by Susanna Kaysen. In it, she describes biting her hand in an attempt to ‘feel’. To know she’s real. I relate to that. I have often bitten my own hand, or slapped my own face, or chewed the inside of my mouth until I bleed, just to reassure myself that I’m not  existing in a dream.

There is a reason why depression is called The Black Dog; it dogs you. It follows you around like a faithful companion, begging to be fed and entertained. It lies on top of you at night, crushing you under its weight and refusing to budge.

105 Comments

  1. Well written, well said. Thanks for having the courage to write about the black dog.

    “I don’t like standing near the edge of a platform when an express train is passing through. I like to stand right back and if possible get a pillar between me and the train. I don’t like to stand by the side of a ship and look down into the water. A second’s action would end everything. A few drops of desperation.” – Winston Churchill (1874-1965)

  2. Thankyou!

    I have spent so long trying to explain to people that depression should not be mistaken for general sadness or unhappiness – especially in situations or periods of life where things are just borked for them.

    I really wish there was some way I could make it better for people suffering through it.

  3. Hello, I saw that you’re a follower of my blog (www.thesimplycomplicatedlifeofanastasia.wordpress.com) and I decided to explore a little. I want to let you know, that I relate to so many things you’ve said in this post, but none at the same time. If that makes any sense? I’ve been depressed but never suffered from depression. Your words, you descriptions of everything you feel and see cut so deep into my own mind. I honestly love how you express yourself. It’s so artistic and right to the point. I honestly hope my blog can reach this level of skill some day! And even so, it will have nothing on yours. I know you’re writing about real life experiences and I completely respect that you can so willingly put your life out there in the world for everyone to experience along side you. I look forward to re-visiting later on and reading more!

  4. I think that you described it spot on. Often my family has told me that I was like the main character in Girl Interrupted, and I can always find away to relate to all these characters. I too struggle with severe depression and anxiety. It scares me. But at the same time there is relief in even feeling scared. I worked so hard to feel anything and every tiny emotion is a victory. Some days are harder then others. If you would like I wrote a poem about it… I can send it to you. It’s more directed toward anxiety. But anyway, you are so brave to write about this and have it in the open. I am still reluctant to talk about it. I have been told that I wouldn’t succeed, to quit where I was, so many times over because of depression and my diagnosis. Much of this was in college. There is so much more to overcoming depression for ourselves when many of those around us, our societies reject us over and over. Thank you. You have inspired me.

  5. I think those who suffer with the Black Dog do need to consider it a worthy battle, they need continual strategies, a deep understanding of self, a will to say fuck it, a will to to build compassion and care for themselves. The Black Dog will eat you up, it will smother you. I wrestle with it, talk back to it, show it my teeth. I get philosophical, and do flips. Now I own a small black dog, oddly, he is the light of my life. Caring for him has multiplied my feelings 10 fold, my feelings are born each time I see him, and they are hearty emotions like those of a child. For me, loving my daughter, and now my dog, has greatly aided in helping with depression. I don’t know why exactly. But I’m not going to question it.

  6. My gosh … this is a gripping post and very well written. I’ve read bloggers talk about this subject, but never the way you have written about it in this post. I think the most frightening aspect is the idea of “numbness” … I want to thank you for sharing this.

  7. Thanks very much for sharing that with us.

    I can relate to a lot of what you’ve gone through. Childhood was mostly a time of being afraid and anxious; my early 20s were very numb lost years; and a few years ago most of my weekends were spent in bed because I didn’t want to get up.

    I also love your final paragraph with its very apt description of the Black Dog. All the best with keeping it at bay :)

  8. Amazingly eloquent. You hit many nails square on the head. This post is worth any number of descriptions out there. Moreover, it also highlights a big issue in seeking treatment: how the triage people in general clinics use terms like “sadness” and “tearfulness” and “low mood”. I don’t think these are even adequate to describe what’s felt during acute bouts: depression associated with grieving or stressful life events, for example; but for those whose issues are chronic, they are wholly inappropriate.

    Excellent, excellent stuff, hun.

  9. You paint a very vivid description of what you suffer from. I could not imagine what it would be like to go through that. It makes me think of how lucky I am; I’ve felt depressed before but not actual depression. As hollow as it perhaps sounds given what you have to go through in your life, I wish you the best of luck with dealing with it.

  10. Saw myself in your description, culminating in a complete shut down a little over a year ago. For SO many freakin’ years I told my doctor I was “not sad, cause that would involve having an emotion, which I did not!” He’d change my meds and send me on my way. When the total shut down happened I did feel something…a twinge of fear. WTF…I thought, what now?! Just more of the same. Not caring for myself, like simply keeping clean, finally rang the right bell in the doc, sent me to psychologist and finally ended the damn anti-depressents! Problem is, the issues surrounding the mind are still are mystery to the professionals that specialize in them, let alone a simple GP. No one REALLY knows whats going on, why it happens or how to make it stop! And our medical system is so overloaded that the only way to get immediate action is attempted suicide, emergency room then getting committed! How f@#&ing stupid is that! Can they not see how much more successful they (and we) would be if caught early on, before the major crisis!? They just piss me off to no end…which is a good thing, cause I feel now:) I take ADD meds, which have changed my life immensely…along with bi-weekly appointments with the therapist I finally am coming around to something near more normal.
    I wish for you a breakthrough of epic proportions…and a good therapist that will test and not give up until they find something that works, even just a little glimmer can set you on that road. Don’t give up. K?

  11. Very well written. It is so hard, explaining what depression is, to people who have never experienced it. You did an amazing job. I’m going to share this post with a few people I know who need a better understanding.

  12. I came here after you kindly visited my page and I’m glad I did. This is an unsentimental and true-feeling description that could be useful to many. The act of sharing this is brave. It was the “supposedly coping” that chimed specifically with me. Thank you.

  13. The light has gone out,
    sparks gone,
    matches wet,
    the fog that sits just beyond the reach of our noses,
    doesn’t taunt, doesn’t flirt, doesn’t do anything but drench,
    obfuscate, envelop, and persist. there is nothing but it…
    —-
    And, yet, in a glimmer, you wrote this post.
    Something spoke in spite. <3

  14. This is the single most accurate description of depression (at least what its like for me) that I have ever read. You just described things that I have never been able to find the words for in a way that makes complete sense. If I could have ever found the words, I could have written this myself. I love your insightfulness, and honesty

  15. Pingback: In which I get through another week « Halfway Between The Gutter And The Stars

  16. During my studies, I was taught that a decrease in serotonin levels was related to individuals demonstrate signs of persistent sad mood, anxiety, physical slowing, energy loss, feeling of worthlessness, difficulty thinking or concentrating, and sleep disturbances. However, no one can understand your symptoms unlike someone who has already been though those feelings and emotions. Great post in helping me understand this issue. Above all, Don’t forget to love yourself!

  17. yikes @ the black dog…. I have never heard depression called that. That scares the crap out of me yet it is the perfect analogy as I have been depressed since I was a teen as well. It used to be constant, but now it’s only at night and on the weekends, when I have time to think… go figure. I find that if I am not on the go, like I am during the work week, I slip into this hole that I don’t get out of until Monday morning. Do you find that you are the same way. You seemed pretty amped in your latest post to see S. Do you find that you are most depressed when you’ve got time to be quiet and are left with your thoughts?

    Anyway, you write really, really well. I will say a prayer for you in regards to your most recent post. I just hope that the black dog gets hit by a freaking car…

  18. I understand this feeling. I have not experienced a low this deep for a few months, but I feel it coming again. Depression has saved my life in the past as well. It’s funny, people often don’t think of depression doing that. I often forget that it has, My last trip to the hospital was from a panic attack, that was the first time that happened. I made myself tell someone, instead of going to a place I knew I’d have the ability and drive to, probably successful this time, attempt anything. Depression is a soul sucking disorder. I wish everyone who suffers from it could find peace.

    Thank you for following my blog, so that I would find yours.

    Good luck, I love you.

  19. I’ve recently been diagnosed with Major Depressive Disorder, which was a huge shock to my family. I’ve always been reserved, shy, and prefer being on my own, but for me I found it struck me when I was 16. I started thinking about death a lot. Started hypothetically thinking about my own funeral, how I would prefer to die. I would get sad for no reason, to the point where at work in the deli I had to lock myself in the walk-in fridge because I burst into tears at the sight of the knives.

    I suffered in silence for four years. I thank you for having the courage to speak about your experiences with “the black dog”. It’s hard for people who’ve never experienced it to understand, but I think your post is well worded and comprehensible, even sympathetic.

    Thank you.

  20. This is one of the best things I’ve ever read on depression. William Styron, the author of Sophie’s Choice said that depression was like being brushed by the wings of madness.
    You are an incredibly gifted writer and I look forward to reading your book. If you do not already have a book deal I’m sure one can’t be too far away. This post should be in ever mental health office as an introduction to the truth about depression. Sincerely, D.

  21. This post is wonderful! I know the feeling of not being able to show emotion when my grandmother was sick almost dying everyone in my family was so torn up except me. I couldn’t cry I didn’t really feel anything and I couldn’t really explain it to anyone. This just made me feel so much less alone in the world.

  22. Pingback: 30 Days Of Truth: Day 3 – Bipolar J. « Halfway Between The Gutter And The Stars

  23. This describes it so well. I’ve been trying to figure out how to describe what I’m feeling for a long time, but you’ve done it better than I ever could have. Thanks for this post (and for following my blog :) )

  24. Pingback: Kreativ Blogger Award, versatile blogger award, and more « Halfway Between The Gutter And The Stars

  25. You are very courageous in the way you face life and in the way you write and share your story. This piece of writing is courageous and beautiful, even with a topic that is dark. As a person working in the mental health field, i know depression is very real and i’m also aware that many societies are still fighting the stigma of accepting depression as a true illness and not a made-up one as many laypeople prefer to think. I, myself, have been fighting one and officially diagnosed with MDD, but my experience and symptoms are not exactly quite the same as yours. I cannot imagine what you’ve been through, but i know you’ve been suffering. I pray and hope that you and everyone else that’s fighting depression, including myself, will always be given the strength we need to keep going. I’m glad you’ve been getting help. please continue to do so. To others who may be reading this, help is available and don’t be discourage and give up if you don’t find one that fits your needs and personality. Keep looking. You will eventually find one. And look into help from the spiritual side as well, not just from medical. May peace be with you. Be well.

    • Thank you, Olive Tree. Your comment really does mean a lot.

      I’m glad that somebody working in mental health has the understanding you do; too many so-called professionals simply read from a textbook, and can’t appreciate what it’s like living with mental illness every day. Many are patronising. I confess, it’s put me off the system for life – which is why I removed myself – so it’s good to hear someone like you speak with such honesty and clear understanding.

      I think depression does give you a strength of sorts, it’s just being able to wade out of the blackness and grasp it which I find difficult. I know it’s there, but sometimes it just feels too far away.

  26. this is really a reply to a ‘liking.’ thank you for the click (i’ll take it as positive feed back.) depression and sadness coexist. sadness comes from without; it — like anger, joy perhaps, too– are feelings that are reactions to events out there. there lurks your black dog. depression comes from within; seems to me more a tide of nauseating muck that rises and falls, paralyzing more or less of one’s thinking and feeling. art helps better than freud’s work and love, so keep at it.

  27. Trying to get people to realise that there is a worse state than the feeling sad point is very hard, trying to explain that you’re actually beyond feeling suicidal because you simply couldn’t be bothered to even try is even harder. Your description of young depression really resonated with me and took me back. Thank you for sharing. Keep strong. :)

  28. I am crying so hard right now… I barley can see the screen. I feel like I have just read so much that is me… and part of me does not feel so flipping alone and the other makes me disgusted with myself… There is so much to say and many emotions… but for now I will leave you with this…

    http://untitledmoments.com/2011/01/14/depression-remains/ ~ I wrote this awhile back… and to me this is the best I can explain how depression is for me.

    I sent you love for sure and thank you for the hard work you put into this post.

    ~L

  29. For me, depressive episodes have always been “The Black Hole”. I coined that term in my early teens. I could feel the damn thing coming and eventually got to recognize the stages of it. Thank you for sharing your story.

    Sue

  30. Best and most apt description of depression I have ever read. Yes, true depression does not mean to feel sad, but to feel nothing whatsoever, which can only be described adequately by metapher. Drifting apart (loss of self, I, or whatever one likes to call it), endless falling into nothingness (where there is neither thought nor feeling, neither cause nor reason, neither time nor space).

    Love,

    ichbindaswortistich (iamthewordisi)

  31. Based on your descripton, it seems I’ve only been flirting with depression. I’ve never been sucked in quite so deeply. This makes me feel a bit of a fraud, as odd as that may sound; as if I am unworthy of the diagnosis. But most grateful, as well. I always was able to drag myself out of bed on Monday mornings, albeit with heroic efforts, and managed to slog my way through the work week. Tearfulness is a halmark for me. Not over anything in particular. I just can’t seem to speak without being overcome. The weekends are when it hits me hardest; when the tentacles reach out and suck me deeper into the pit. Antidepressants have not helped much in the past. The doctor has added Deplin this time, a mega-dose of folate. The idea is that it helps with absorption of the antidepressant. It seems to have made all the difference.

    Thanks for stopping by my blog. And for this eloquent post.

  32. Depression can hit you even during the most unexpected times. I have once experienced seeing myself in a circle of friends but mostly I still caught myself staring blankly in a deep, deep trance. I still do it now, especially when I wanted to keep things to myself. I’m afraid people might not understand this pang so I ought to keep it to myself, sometimes.

  33. You are not alone. Luckily I had a friend who pulled me back – although she didnt understand how I feel. For that, I am grateful. I know the familar numb feeling – no interest in whatever the world has to offer.at all. And the feeling of a wall surrounding me and closing me up further, giving me no space to breathe. I chose to jump in the end. Jump into the unknowns because the enclosed feeling caused much pain and I was always looking forward to going to bed and not waking up. Panic attacks comes every Sunday and only Fri evening I get a reprieve. No interest in meeting up with friends ‘cos it was too hard to juggle the numb feeling and be interested in life. It’s strange but jumping into the unknowns woke me up. Bit by bit. These days whenever I feel the numbness creeping in, I try to go and sleep it off to keep it from overcoming me. I try to remember the route I took to arrive today and it helps to remember how much I have been appreciated and how much help I have received. I remember I need to give back to the community, to pass forward what I have received. Another way to keep the black dog at bay, to head back to sleep and when I wake up, more refreshed, more energised, I feel more strength to deal with a new day and do engage with the world again.

  34. It’s strange when you wrote about not “Feeling “anything, because you know what?
    You writing is Intense.
    And it made me feel – a lot.
    So there is a lot there inside you.
    And I am glad you have the courage to share yourself with others.
    Because a lot of us don’t …
    Lots of Love …

  35. Pingback: Blog for Mental Health 2012 « Halfway Between The Gutter And The Stars

  36. May i first add (I’m always disconcerted by the availability of easier options, ie; 1st)

    So… may I 1st add the following. I felt an eerie haunting. As if I was reading my own toxic finger ink. So I had to stop. I want to continue, but personal hurts.

    How do we do this?

  37. Wow,,,I came here because I saw you on mine and I wanted to check you out. This was a fascinating post. but, I just want to call you out on thing….you have to have some sort of feelings to write a post that evokes so many feelings. Maybe you don’t like to outwardly express feelings in your personal life in front of others…..but you have feelings. Maybe you don’t see the point in competing in a silly rat race that everyone says you should because it is “healthy”. I have heard that line so often, I don’t even pay attention anymore. Maybe you have much more to offer than you realize but that fact that you think you don’t care clouds your potential. Yeah…..you probably don’t care about what most people care about – because what most people care about is straight up silly. What is wrong with that. So you are different and you know it. Kudos to you for being able to put your feelings in words on paper (computer) in a way that others feel you deeply. Don’t worry about getting out of bed – they have lap tops nowadays :)! I am going to read some more of your posts. Again, thanks for checking my blog out and G-d bless!

  38. As many have said, yes this is such an accurate description, and yes, it’s so misunderstood, it really is frustrating how people talk about being depressed when they’ve just had a bad day, or the other way round when they expect depression to be obvious in the form of sobbing, obviously things do differ a little from person to person, but actually, people need to read this to understand. But I’d like to encourage you, and any others who read this and suffer with depression, that it is curable, it doesn’t have to loom over you forever, there is freedom to be found, though it can seem so hopeless. My mother has come such a long way and is so much better, and so am I and so is my sister. So even if you think it’s your genetic destiny (I have felt this too) you don’t have to believe that and give up. Much love!! xx

  39. Thank you for having the courage to write this, and share it. I relate to too much of it. What’s up with this world of ours when so many can relate to such anguish? There’s a scene in Dumas’ Twenty Years After (chapters 48-50) where a handful of churchmen raise thousands of their congregations throughout Paris to prepare overnight for a revolution against the tyranny of the Queen. “…a strange change had taken place. The whole city seemed inhabited by fantastic beings; silent shadows were seen removing the street-paving, others drawing and upsetting wagons, others digging trenches to swallow up entire companies of cavaliers. All these people, so actively going, coming, running, seemed like demons accomplishing some unknown work…” The scene has always reminded my of the power of the people over the tyranny of the elite. If all of us who suffer could rise up, though, who would we revolt against? There’s the heart of the pain that I feel.

  40. Pingback: Managing Your Depression | Depression–A journey of 101,1001 days or of a Life Time

  41. Thanks for the pingback! This post really resonates with how I have felt in the past. “It’s the lowest mood it’s possible to feel. It bypasses the entire idea of mood and becomes a feeling in its own right, one which there is no word for.” ‘Nuff said.

  42. Thank you for reading my post and thank you for including it in the list of similar posts. If I weren’t smack in the middle of writing another, I’d really want to read more of your blog this instant because I get it. At least I think I do. Yeah, I get it more today than I would have yesterday.

  43. I wish I had no clue what you mean in this post. I wish I didn’t understand any of the descriptions, incidences or disconnections from the world around you. But I have walked in those shoes so much that I has to buy several pairs. Really. You’ve read my blog so that probably sounds like total crap. It’s as far from me now as Antarctica is to a duck (unless there are antartican ducks in which case that simile blows). So with that in mind and without getting too heavy on the details in this comment, I found out one day that it didn’t have to be that way. Something in me snapped in the instant I had to make the most real continue breathing or let myself die moment. I’m not being metaphorical. I had several close calls but that was not close – it was definite if I chose it. And suddenly my world completely changed. It’s not all flowers and butterflies by any means but I definitely am a fan of life now. It is SO crazy worth sticking around for it! I adore your honesty and am sending huge love your direction!!! Awesome things are coming your way honey. Really they are. If they weren’t, I don’t believe that God would have taken the time to send us in the same space. :). Hugs hugs and more hugs! Jo

  44. First of all, thank you very much for the follow. I’ve read few posts about this subject, but never so well written like yours, I have a sister that have had bad days of depression in the past, right now she seams much better, she just had a daugter 6 months ago…..”Hope there is always a light in the end of the tunnel”….thanks for share and have a lovely week:)

  45. This is a great post. I remember when my depression was at it’s worst I couldn’t bear the thought of taking my clothes off and showering, when I finally did, it was a really big accomplishment.

    It’s amazing how one forgets those things when their mood improves.

  46. I am grateful you sent a pingback to my blog so I could come find you here..and this post…wow. To say I relate, well, that’s the understatement of the century. So much of what you’ve written are things I’ve felt but never had the words to say it, or maybe I was simply afraid to say it to anyone outside of myself.

    Going back and watching the PBS special on depression helped take more of the sting out of it. I think people believe we have the ‘ability’ to ‘just cheer up’ but chose not to.

    Thank you for writing and sharing as you do, it is making a profound difference in my life.

  47. Pingback: Depression – why it was never about sadness « Sanity, Gone … F.U.B.A.R.

  48. This may be one of the most honest and helpful, get-real articles I’ve ever read on depression from someone who knows it inside and out. I salute you and your attitude towards it. You are a remarkable, beautiful soul, trusted with this particular journey, and you are walking it with such grace and intelligence/curiosity/acceptance. Keep writing. Keep doing what you do. Brilliant work. Thank you for sharing this!!

    The following lines really struck me:

    a feeling of total lack of respect, for myself and others. It’s a deep, dark numbness which can’t be alleviated by anything. It’s the inability to laugh or cry with any real emotion; it’s the total lack of emotion, the opposite of feeling. It’s a wall which comes slamming down around me, removing me from the world and trapping me behind unbreakable glass

    The glass will shatter or melt or gently fade away – keep writing; keep trying. You are SO worth it.

  49. So eloquent. For a few years I was telling my doctor that I thought I was depressed, and she blew me off. Thankfully, for me, it was more of a visit that lasted about 6 years. It was after a change of doctor, being put on thyroid meds, and doing a lot of energy work that helped bring me out of it. Then I was able to look back and see that yes, not being able to function for more than about an hour or two, and never feeling rested, just craving my bed all the time, WAS depression. I still visit it from time to time, but not like before.

    My heart totally goes out to you. I hope that getting your pain out with writing or art, helps. I know one type of “medicine” that can really make a difference in things like this. It’s energy medicine- and it’s what I’ve been learning about and studying for a year plus, now. Things like Energy Therapy, Reiki, can have a real, positive, effect.

  50. Well said or rather, written. I can see a lot if that in me too. thing is with my depression I seek the darkness and have to have music. It’s mostly a downbeat sort but still I need it on otherwise my thoughts take over. I’m blogging too and have put a link up to yours, hope that’s ok.

  51. Reblogged this on Through my eyes: Adventures in Borderline land and commented:
    Ive said before that I dont like to reblog, but I never explain. Its an OCPD thing. I share other peoples stuff on Facebook all the time, either my page, this blogs page, or both. I love and appreciate all of you lovelies and like to point others in your direction, but this is my blog, and your stuff doesnt belong here. Its uncomfortable for me, like it almost makes my brain itch. That being said, I still dont feel like writing. I havent showered or gotten dressed in days, paranoia is up and Im snapping at Toast over everything because I dont want to be bothered by questions. I remembered this post, and I think that anyone that doesnt understand depression, or suffers from it but can never find the words to describe it, should read this. I figured it was worth a little discomfort and brain itchiness on my part.

  52. I have stopped trying to explain. I have become a robot that goes about doing what is expected, I live on auto pilot. I am empty, a shell. I/it really don’t matter…it/I never change. I wish I could say something….different, I can’t.

    Your post seems to have reached many, I hope that brings you some peace. xx

  53. Pingback: You’re Depressed, I Have Depression – Here’s The Difference… | Make-Up and Mirtazapine

  54. Pingback: Strength in numbers: the Strong Person award. « Halfway Between The Gutter And The Stars

  55. Pingback: CFS vs. Depression | Pieces of Me

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