What Is It Like To Have Depression?

May 15, 2018 | No Comments » | Topics: Life Experiences, TRUTH

depression

Imagine your head is like a whirlpool in a hurricane – thoughts are just whirling around (and around and around) in there. Positive thoughts float, and they just sit there on the surface until they are blown away, but negative thoughts get sucked into the whirlpool and spin around, repeating themselves over and over, and worse and worse, until you have arrived at the worst-case believable scenario, at which point they sink down the spout and you internalise them as truth. Worse, the whirlpool is mesmerising – it’s a natural disaster, a tidal wave, a train wreck, and you just can’t look away.

You can throw as many “chin up!”, “get over it”, “come out to this party”, “you’ll be OK” and “just get out of the house” comments at that as you like, but it won’t do shit. My mind will just force me to blow those comments off – I’ll probably ditch the party, or make some non-committal noise about leaving the house or cheering up, so I can get back to the whirlpool. Because, I’m USED to watching the whirlpool. In some sick (mentally sick) way, I LIKE that I have a whirlpool to watch.

When I’m sick enough, I’ll cling to the whirlpool as the only thing that makes me different, more realistic than those annoying little shits that keep asking me to go to parties and telling me to cheer up – what is there to cheer up about? The world is all going to end in fire eventually, everybody dies, what difference does it make when I die? If I killed myself, people might stop making their glib remarks that I should cheer up and go out partying – that would be nice – how awesome would it be to shut all of those bastards up, to make them feel what I feel for just one day?

At this point, the only thing stopping me was what it would do to the people I didn’t want to feel bad – my family. I couldn’t put them through that, even for revenge against everyone that didn’t care. (Remember, I’m talking from the perspective of my sick mind here). Don’t get me wrong, it was CLOSE. I was going through ways I could kill myself that I would be comfortable with. I explored my fear of dying in minute detail to find a scenario in which I would be able to kill myself. If my depression had gotten even a little worse, that would have been the end of me.

Do you know what helped to bring me back from the brink many times – helped to control the seething desire to do something drastic? Cutting myself. It helped me gain some control, helped me associate my mental anguish with physical pain so I could dissociate from it a little, treat it, know it.

I sought professional help, and ended up on a series of different antidepressants, all of which failed for one reason or another (some had bad side effects, which led me closer to suicide). But, then something remarkable happened while I was dosing up on one of them and getting counselling – I got into a relationship.

Now, I had to drop that antidepressant (I believe it was an NSRI), but having someone around me most of the time who would just listen to what I had to say, would let me vent and just HOLD me, that helped me get back to a place where I could get some perspective and climb my way out of the pit. It was a small improvement, but it was one that interrupted the whirlpool. The counsellor got me talking, and my partner kept listening and supporting me, and not forcing me to go anywhere or do anything I wasn’t OK doing.

You have to remember, that for me at least, going out was just a tiring way to get back to bed at night, depressed. It changed nothing, and because it tired me out, I actually felt worse, not better.

– keepasecret

depression

depression

depression

 

depression

depression

depression

Even if you think no one cares…millions do. National Suicide Prevention Hotline: 1-800-273-8255