What Depression Means To Me

Most essays on this blog will be more light hearted. This is an essay I wrote some months back on depression. -- Liam

"Hi, I'm Will, and I'm a long time depression sufferer."

If my depression were an addiction, I could start meetings in a twelve step program group with these words. But it's not. Depression is not an addiction. Depression is not a choice. Depression isn't "all in my head". Depression is not something I can "just snap out of". Depression is real, it's physical and it can be debilitating.

I first found out that I was a depression sufferer as a child. My parents, realizing that something was wrong with their eldest child, had me evaluated by a child psychologist. Dr. Rosalyn she was called (I couldn't tell you her last name, although I'm pretty sure I knew it once.). At the time, I didn't know what it meant, all I knew was that every week, Mom would pack me into the car and I'd spend time talking with Dr. Rosalyn. I remember the radio station playing in her waiting room ("WVNJ. VN-Joy by day, VN-Jazz by night!"), I remember the games in her office (and being frustrated that she always wanted to talk some BEFORE we were allowed to play any of the games.). The actual name "depression" was never mentioned, at least not within range of my young ears. But clearly none of my friends visited a "Doctor" when they didn’t feel sick, a “Doctor” who never examined them, never gave them a physical and never prescribed any medicine.

In college, I put a name to my condition. In college I put a lot of things together. And in college, I reached the point of fantasizing about my own death. And here's a thing most people who have never been suicidal just don't get: It's not about wanting to die. It's about wanting the pain to stop. I've never WANTED to die. Indeed, my strong self-preservation instinct is what's kept me alive through some pretty horrendous lows. To put it in terms easier for a non-depressive to understand: Most people would never WANT to lose a limb. However, imagine you developed a condition in your ankle which was EXCRUCIATINGLY painful. Imagine the prospect of living with this pain on a more or less constant (or at least frequently recurring) basis. Imagine that the pain relieving drugs of the day simply weren't very effective. Now, can you imagine deciding that living without your leg (but pain free) was a better option than being whole and in agony?

That's what suicide is about. It's a fantasy solution that will end the pain. A way of knowing it's all over and done, never to be faced again. And more, it’s about CONTROL. The fantasies, the suicidal thoughts, in a lot of ways they are about reminding yourself that in some small way, you still have control. If it all gets to be too much, too painful, there is one last, drastic step available. It’s a step you hope never to take, but it makes the rest of the pain just a little bit easier to deal with, knowing that there IS a remedy, however drastic.

The pain of depression comes in various flavors:

o There's the really deep dark depression, which has you in an emotional hole so deep, you don't imagine you'll ever feel happy again. Sometimes your emotions just shut down entirely. And then you're an emotional zombie, unable to feel even the simplest and most straightforward emotions, like love for your spouse or your children or your parents.

o Then there's the more immediately painful variety. If the above version can be thought of as a really intense ache, this version is like a stabbing pain. You find yourself crying, so hard you can't see, so hard you end up with dehydration headaches and an entire box full of tissues empty and used around you.

o There's a variety which just feels overwhelming. There's too much to do, too many things eating at me, I just can't take it all, I can't handle it all, I'm not good enough, I'm going to fail, it's too much. Kind of like a juggler, adding an additional ball to his routine for the first time. He keeps it going, but never feeling entirely in control, and knowing that if ANY MORE balls are added, he's going to lose control and the whole lot will come crashing down around him.

o Finally, there's dysthymia. In some ways, the worst, because it's the most insidious, and also the one you feel the least right to feel. Dysthymia is to the first version I listed as a non-healing paper cut is to a stab wound. The pain is clearly not as intense, but it just eats at you, day in and day out, darkening your day, taking the joy out of life, but never so intense that you feel justified in feeling the way you feel.

Put another way: A major depressive episode is like having the anchor of a cruise ship chained to your ankle and trying to go about your life: You're not going anywhere. Dysthymia is like having a 35 lbs ball on a chain attached to your ankle. You CAN still make it around, but it’s just so much harder. With the anchor, you have an excuse if you fail to get somewhere. With the ball-and-chain, you have less excuse, but it saps your strength, makes every step take 5 times the normal effort. In the end you tire out and give up on things which you COULD get to, because it's just not worth the extra effort. But you always know you still COULD get there, and so you feel guilty letting something that small keep you from what you needed to do. Dysthymia. My own personal more-or-less-constant ball-and-chain companion.

So, we've covered my suicidal thoughts, and we've covered what my depression is like. Did I mention that suicidal thoughts are a regular (if not constant) subtext to my life? Or that even as I write this, a part of me is thinking how much easier it would be to just end my life, and have an end to the pain which is eating at me even now? I'm not writing in the abstract, I'm telling you what I'm experiencing at this moment, what I experience in the majority of my waking moments.

I'll tell you something else: Depression brings rituals to help one cope. In my case, I like to go into a small room (generally a closet) and close the door. It doesn't help much, but in a small way, it feels like I'm locking out the rest of the world. I have enough to deal with right now, so I'm closed for business. Leave me alone world, I'm not up to whatever you have to throw at me today. And the true ironic hell of it is that I'm also mildly claustrophobic, so my little comfort zone is only available to me for comparatively short periods of time before I start feeling trapped and needing to get out, in relatively equal measure to how much I need to keep the door shut and the world at bay. Perhaps this is a blessing in disguise, or some days I might never leave the closet.

Let's return to the things I've been told by people who don't understand. "Just cheer up, it's not that bad!" "Oh, stop being so self centered and snap out of it." "If you'd just smile, you'd feel so much better." What all of these people fail to understand is that depression is a disease. It's a disorder. It is not a choice. We don't tell someone confined to a wheelchair by MS to "Just stand up!" The flu isn't treated with "Stop being so self centered, snap out of it!" Migraine headaches don't elicit cries of "It's all in your head!" If I were missing a leg you would never ask me to run a marathon, but by asking me to "just snap out of it", you're asking me essentially the same thing: Ignore what is wrong with me and the things it prevents me from doing, and just do those things anyway as if there were nothing standing in my way.

Depression is real. I live with it. I deal with it. Sometimes I do a better job than others. Some days, the weight around my ankle makes me so tired, I just can't even get out of bed to face the day. But I'll make you a deal: If you'll recognize that my depression is a real disease and has real consequences on my life, I'll promise not to expect you to ignore your migraines, or your MS, or your amputated limb, or your flu or any of the other real, physical ailments which may plague you. If you don't understand depression, if you've never really suffered it, rather than giving advice on a topic you don't get, just thank your lucky stars that this is one demon whose attention you have fortunately avoided.

Hi, I'm Will, and I'm a depression sufferer. Please understand why I can't get out of bed today.

Copyright © 2005 by Liam Johnson. http://www.liamjohnson.net