This is an excellent description of depression. I am dealing with it pretty badly right now. I’ve been sitting at my computer for hours intending to write, but I feel paralysed. The storm of circling thoughts have frozen me, rendering me unable to get anything done, and there are things I need to do. Even worse, the guilt and shame of not being able to start anything, to move at all for that matter, is adding to the storm in my head. It appears as though I haven’t moved or done anything all day, but my mind is under siege and it is taking all of my strength to battle the incessant thoughts and worries. A mind under siege is a hopeless one. I feel exhausted, nauseated, and weak, and it is getting scary.
I stumbled upon this post while sitting here unable to commit to anything in particular and it gave me a little glimpse of sanity through the fog. A reminder that what I am going through is part of my illness and will pass and that it is okay to get help. Sometimes it gets so dark that I forget it’s not my fault. It sure feels like it’s my fault, my failure.
I hope that tomorrow is brighter because I don’t want to fight this another full day. How bad does it have to be to go to a hospital? Would it be rude to take up time in the hospital when I have a doctor appointment in a couple of weeks? I think I need to talk to someone soon. In any case, I hope this article will bring a dose of reason to someone else who is lost in the dark.
Yesterday I bemoaned those who would turn Robin Williams’ death into a mandatory mass therapy session. But that isn’t to say I don’t appreciate some of the conversation his suicide is provoking. If you’ve never been clinically depressed, the idea that someone like Williams could possibly find life wanting tends to seem absurd.
But depression is a “lie of the mind,” to borrow an old Sam Shepard title. It cares not for your comedy-god status or your loving family. It cares not that plenty of people have it worse. “Depression is a skilled liar, using what you know is true as basis for a massive fraud,” wrote journalist John Tabin yesterday. “If you’re suicidal, you’re where I was five years ago,” he tweeted. “Please read”:
I got teary-eyed reading that, and not just because Tabin is someone I know and like. There’s also the pain of recognition: I could have written nearly every word…
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