Depression is not a moment of sadness. Depression is a vicious beast. Depression wipes life from your spirit like a giant sucking sponge.
People who have never been depressed don’t understand. Shake it off. Cheer up, take a walk, do something –fill in the blank here- and you’ll feel better. What a bunch of crap.
I’ve had the luck or unluck to have survived bouts of depression several times in my life. I say lucky since it was intermittent. I say unlucky because it takes a big chunk from my life before I recognize I’ve fallen into the black hole again. Many people aren’t as lucky and suffer from a chronic condition.
I’m not going to give you a clinical description. I find myself tired for no reason. I have trouble focusing, yet am irritable, short-tempered, but the temper doesn’t last since it takes too much energy. I overeat, but I’m not hungry. I can’t write. And that is the big tell for me.
This time I asked my doctor about it. To my surprise, he took the time to ask me about my symptoms. After a few minutes in thought, he suggested I think about a prescription. Something short-term to snap the cycle. Hmmm. Since I hate medicine, I said maybe. When I return for my check-up we’ll talk again. Just knowing he listened, helped me. So does writing this.
I noticed on my various loops other writers’ blogging about depression. Sharing emails about the pain and loss. I realized it seems to be insidious with creative people. Are we more vulnerable because of our imagination? Is it because our lives are spent in a world no one else sees until we create it? Is it because we are by nature loners?
I don’t have the answers. I did get up this morning and worked on a project. It made me feel good and I savored that feeling.
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