The Deep End
Photo by Kim Westerskov/Getty Images
I completely missed the fact that October was Depression Awareness Month. (December is Seasonal Depression Awareness Month, for what it’s worth.) I’ve never spoken explicitly about struggling (never was there a more apt word) with depression here even though it’s such a defining facet of my life—and has been since the age of 12. I often approach the subject with the same measure of temerity and shame one associates with an unplanned teen pregnancy, though I’m not sure why. (I had an old roommate with MS who was the same way about being “outed,” so to speak.) Perhaps it’s something to do with invisible disabilities; you have no tangible, ostensible proof so people can easily choose not to believe you, and instead regard the quagmire you’re in as imagined or exaggerated.
And so little is understood by most about depression. I’ve variously described the feeling as “wading upstream against a current of thick molasses,” “living in a haunted house,” and “the mad wife in your attic.” When you feel like you’re pinned under Mauna Loa getting your liver pecked out by a ravenous vulture—when it physically hurts to exist—it takes every iota of willpower simply to swing one foot in front of the other. The worst part is that oftentimes you have no rational reason for feeling this way. No one to blame, nothing to finger for the ground suddenly opening below you. For the crying jags. For the sudden fits of anger that spiral so beyond your control that you’re smothering your screams with your pillow. For when you’re staring into nothingness trying shakily to hold together the strands of your sanity in the face of unspeakable despair.
The people who don’t get it view it as some kind of character flaw. They want you to “get over it,” “just be happy,” or, my favorite, “just pray to God.” If only it were that easy to repair someone’s faulty wiring and stop their synapses from misfiring. Or buy an emotional filter. Depression is a disease like any other; you wouldn’t tell someone with diabetes to just get over it, would you? Or say cancer schmancer, just think pink, bubbly anticancer thoughts and you’ll have that thing licked in no time? It simply doesn’t work that way.
Along for the ride is a debilitating fatigue that constantly frustrates me. It took a while not to feel horribly betrayed by my own body—to learn that I had to mete out my energy like it was currency, jealously horde spoons where I could, and wrestle with the fact that I couldn’t do everything. While I’ve become far less impulsive and more accepting of delayed gratification with time, I’m certain that without my husband or medication the raging beast on my back would have stuck my head into a food processor a long time ago.
And so this is me, pregnant with words but with no coherent explanation to offer, pulling myself through each and every day, often in shadow but always desperately craning my neck towards the sun. To the rest of you lot I say: You lucky, lucky bastards.
KathyB said,
December 5, 2006 at 3:01 pm
Thanks for mentioning this. You’ll laugh, but I view your clever domain-name pun and wonderful illustrations and nice design and unswerving efforts for the mother planet as a kind of epic achievement unattainable for someone like me who struggles with depression and anxiety. To know, now, that you feel the same as I do, fills me with hope that I can rock out, too, in spite of it.
Heather said,
December 5, 2006 at 3:39 pm
So you have the raging beast and I have what I call my handy dandy pocket-sized pit of despair. Dark humor helps me a lot. I don’t really remember a time when I didn’t have depression to some extent. Over the years it’s become more of a regular personality trait than an abnormality to be ashamed of. Of course my family still hides the knives if I’m having an especially bad day. *shrug* You do the best you can with what you’ve got.
thissinglespark said,
December 5, 2006 at 4:14 pm
I get seasonal depression, which manifests itself primarily as raging insomnia, and then everything that goes along with that. It was only four years ago that I put a name to it and sought out help. First from a friend who understood how desperate one could become, spending long dark hours alone while the rest of the house slept, craving blankness so much that suicide seemed a reasonable option. Then from a psychiatrist. Third, from a bottle of prescription antidepressants. And finally from light therapy, which I use religiously from October to April.
I know all about trying to hide what is already hidden, as well. And I’m ever grateful to the above mentioned friend who took me aside and told me to ignore anyone who didn’t believe me.
The light therapy is perfect, but I can make it through the winter by using it. Probably the only “cure” for me is moving south of 49 to someplace where it isn’t dark half the year. (A quick note… for those of you not in Canada, we do get sun in the winter. Comes up around 8:30 and sets around 4:30 these days. Exactly when I’m at work. In my windowless office.)
Harlem Mama said,
December 5, 2006 at 4:20 pm
Hon, you’re not the only one. I put up with the annoyances of having a receptionist area cube because its closest to the big windows in my office. Not that it helps now because the sun is setting by 4 p.m. Its very hard to explain depression and its harder to deal with the people to tell you to be happy. But my way of dealing with it is really talking about it to the people around me. Yes, I’m an actress at my desk because I work in a crazy office, but I stopped trying to not burden the people who either love me or are around me because they have to be. For my own sanity (which is questionable), I reach out. And I knit like a fiend. Thank you for sharing and thank you for sharing your blog with me. It is so beautiful.
Kamrin said,
December 5, 2006 at 10:34 pm
I have these same issues and it seems that this time every year I have to up my meds to keep moving. It is wonderful that you shared this, and I too am impressed with your wonderful site. I am glad that you use this forum in such a positive way! Thank you!
Josiane said,
December 5, 2006 at 10:47 pm
Thanks for this post. You are putting together the words that mom can’t find, and it helps me understanding what she goes through a little bit better.
I’m totally with you on people’s reactions to invisible disabilities. I’ve been suffering from chronic fatigue syndrome for over twenty years now (and I’m 31), so I know all too well what it’s like. Thank you for the link to the spoon theory: that will certainly be very useful to me.
And thank you so much to use some of your spoons to write this blog. I really do appreciate it.
Circe said,
December 5, 2006 at 11:07 pm
I’m starting to be aware of my own inner deamons that pull and tug me down during these dark months as well. Thank you for sharing.
BTW are you pagan, wiccan, witch?
Brianne said,
December 6, 2006 at 5:10 am
I had no idea October had been Depression Awareness Month either. I get to spend the rest of my life looking for the right medication to simply get me out of bed in the morning, so I feel you. There’s nothing like the sense of betrayal that comes with depression, like that the rest of the world gets to have something so basic, why can’t you?
To me it’s like living in one of those giant closet bags, the bottoms unstable, the seems are about to rip, there’s no air or room to really move and if you do the wrong thing the whole bag will come to shreds around you…
Depression apparently also forces me to use the much maligned ellipses in writing comments. See, depression is evil.
marie aka the FertilityBitch said,
December 6, 2006 at 1:56 pm
Thank for this, J.
Big debate raging about SSRIs and pregnancy…You know how I feel about pharmaceuticals. Appreciate the candid layer to the whole story…great writing, too.
xo,
ml the fb
Rick said,
December 6, 2006 at 2:08 pm
Maybe I can help a little. I used to have a blue day once every month or two. So, I’m a little familiar with depression. What helped me the most is vitamin B. I started taking B complex (50 mg of most of the B’s) every day, and I haven’t had a blue day for over 25 years.
What also helps is uninhibited dancing, or taking your dog for a walk. The worst thing to do is get drunk - but hangovers do help you realize that things weren’t so bad yesterday.
I wish the best for you… here is a virtual hug.
melissa said,
December 6, 2006 at 8:05 pm
there are no words. you’ve said it all perfectly. thank you for articulating something so many of us can’t.
ellen said,
December 7, 2006 at 7:02 am
I used to think that depression was something you “got over”, but like much of life, it’s a process. You get the combo of meds, vitamins, and excercise that works for you, and you mostly don’t fall into the Black Hole. Still, occasionally you trip up. thanks for sharing. It’s always good to hear from people that have found the combination that lets them maintain.
Liz said,
December 7, 2006 at 7:19 pm
This was such a beautiful, honest post. I don’t suffer from depression, but my mom does, and you’ve helped me understand her situation much better than I ever have before.
green la girl said,
December 8, 2006 at 12:08 pm
About the tiredness thing — Just wondering if you / your shrink have tried switching up the meds. I used to deal with a crushing mid-afternoon fatigue that either put me in bed for the rest of the day or drove me to drink a lot — but I didn’t wanna change up the meds because in general, I felt I was at least functional, and so why mess with that? Finally I tried a different combo and now I can stay awake during the day like a normal person, more or less. I s’pose I still drink a lot — Still, I feel more empowered to cut back on the drinking too.
That said, I’m not sure I’ll ever get as much done as I did before what I now fondly call my breakdown. And that’s okay — I don’t wanna break down again. Frustrating, often, though.
Thanks for sharing :)
amberpixie said,
December 12, 2006 at 2:32 pm
thanks for your post. i suffer from depression and my friend suffers from MS. awhile ago i sent her the “spoons” article, which she has adapted and sent to all her family and friends. it’s a great image that folks can relate to and understand. i will also send my friends link to what you’ve writen. and thanks for your wonderful blog- i love reading it! keep your head up.
Harlem Mama said,
December 29, 2006 at 10:51 am
Umm, did I say your not the only one? Being shut out of my job like I actually did something wrong when I did the WORLD and beyond for a so called plantation of a company that disgusts me to the point I plan to never utter the words of the place again. But I digress. I just wanted to let you know I’m fine and I may be heart may be meek and mild, but my spirit is strong as a lion. Thank you for reaching out to me honey, while I suffer through my own bout of depression. I simply must have you over after the holidays for tea and knit time. I will email you next week.
The Worsted Witch » Hello, I Must Be Going said,
August 29, 2008 at 4:58 pm
[...] things? The perfectionist side of me—a side that has gotten mouthier now that I’m living antidepressant-free for obvious reasons—is tempted to scrape the whole thing, start from scratch. I’m still [...]
B said,
December 4, 2009 at 4:37 pm
I drifted in through a link from Crafting a Green World. I just wanted to say that I am battling similar demons, and it gives me a bit of strength knowing that there are others out there with similar demons - who are battling them every day. Best wishes.