Depression: A Personal Account
Depression- A Personal Story
As a lifelong sufferer of Bipolar Disorder with major depression, I can relate to each of the many categories of depression. Since the age of 11, I have struggled with feeling apart from, loneliness, isolation, freakishness, and an overwhelming awareness of unworthiness. Since the age of 11, I have attempted to kill myself twice. I’ve made false attempts, or cries for help, many times- I think six altogether. Only two of them were real efforts to die, though- still a shocking number for anyone not familiar with the feelings associated with depression.
I would like to say first that depression is not sadness. Those two words have entirely different meanings. If I look them up, though, I could seemingly disprove that statement, immediately. Luckily, I’m not tied to Webster as my reference. For all I know, Noah Webster never suffered a day of depression in his life, so how could I possibly use him as a credible source? My evidence is my own life, my own struggles, and the struggles of those closest to me.
The Differences Between Sadness and Depression
When I am sad, I cry. When I have an unexpected emotion that is deep, I cry. If a commercial with a sweet sentiment, or sad tidbit comes on, I cry. When I am depressed, I rarely cry-not because I don’t want to, but because I cannot.
When I am sad, a hug from my husband or child always helps me feel better. It might not rectify the situation, but the feeling of love is overwhelming, which is a soothing comfort for my sadness. When I am depressed, there is no reciprocation to a hug. I feel nothing different. I am incapable of feeling the love and electricity that human contact normally brings with it.
When I am sad, I can still laugh when someone tries to cheer me up through humor or memories. I have the capacity to hear what he or she is saying, and feel it, wholly. I might not want to smile, but I can. When I am depressed, a smile cannot be found, nor forced.
When sad, I can use a television show or movie to help me feel better. If I find a good comedy, it can help ease the heaviness on my heart. If I find a drama, it can help me get out of self and feel empathy or sympathy for the characters. When I am depressed, I cannot focus on the show long enough to form any kind of connection. (I have my television on 24/7 depressed or not, but when I am depressed, it is merely white noise).
When I am sad, I can have lunch or coffee with a friend. I can lighten the load by venting or sharing and I have the capacity to listen to the other person(s). When depressed, I cannot go out, I cannot give attention, and I cannot hear, much less listen or retain.
When sad, I can eat, cook, clean, and bathe, albeit through snot and tears. When depressed, each of these seems like a feat beyond my grasp. I might sometimes push through and do it, but it’s rare and certainly unexpected.
When I am sad, sometimes I feel like a burden. If I require a lot of attention from friends or family, I might feel as though I am asking too much. Those thoughts are most often cast aside once I am assured I am not. Those thoughts are normal. When I am depressed, I feel like a burden to everyone who has ever known me. I feel as though I am sucking the life from everyone in order to take just a breath. I feel worthless, helpless, and certainly, hopeless. Herein lies the opening path to suicidal ideation.
When I am sad, I look for bright spots to encourage faster healing. My body instinctively knows that smelling a flower or walking in the sunshine will help my feelings pass. It doesn’t always make sadness go away altogether, but many times, it helps. When depressed, I cannot will myself to put on clothes, much less step outside. When depressed, more often than not, the idea of smelling a flower does not come to mind. If someone offers ideas to help me “get out of depression,” I usually crawl deeper into my hole of despair.
When I am sad, I feel love. When sad, I have the capacity to remember good times, I am rational, and I am eager to heal. When depressed, I have no emotional connection to anything good. I cannot remember what peace or happiness looks or feels like. I am unable to connect to anyone or anything, and the idea of healing is foreign to me.
Depression Is and Is Not
Depression is not a place I can take myself, willingly. Depression is a part of myself that takes me hostage. A remote, dark place that chains me to my own irrationalities. It is not a place I am comfortable, nor is it a place out of which I can snap.
Depression is not sadness.
Depression is having the same vague thought cycles repeatedly. It is feeling a darkness so heavy; I hide within my own self for safety. It is never knowing if I will survive each day, and never knowing if the heavy blanket of despair will subside. It is waking each day not knowing what I feel, or how to feel it. It is a complete lack of will mixed with an abundance of gloom. It is never knowing if I will have the capacity to feel again. It is always wondering why I’m so broken. It is an inability to show or receive love.
It is a longing to disappear, to sink, to die.
It is a constant war. It is a hellish war.
Depression is not sadness.
HELP
800-273-8255 or text ANSWER to 839863
Twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week
800-SUICIDE (784-2433)
800-442-HOPE (4673)
Twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week
National Suicide Prevention Lifeline
800-273-TALK (8255)
Twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week
Thursday’s Child National Youth Advocacy Hotline
800-USA-KIDS (800-872-5437)
Twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week
