Depression Marathon Blog

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Diagnosed with depression 19 years ago, I lost the life I once knew, but in the process re-created a better me. I am alive and functional today because of my dog, my treatment team, my sobriety, and my willingness to re-create myself within the confines of this illness. I hate the illness, but I'm grateful for the person I've become and the opportunities I've seized because of it. I hope writing a depression blog will reduce stigma and improve the understanding and treatment of people with mental illness. All original content copyright to me: etta. Enjoy your visit!

Friday, November 14, 2008

playing dead

this morning I just want to curl up on the floor and play dead. the load of the past few weeks has apparently come down hard on my head. all day yesterday brought headaches and screwed-up thinking, which i topped off with a couple pints of ice cream--that was helpful (pure sarcasm, in case you were confused)!

i just saw my doc, and now i'm feeling hopeless. isn't that weird? supposed to feel better after seeing the shrink, but sometimes, when i'm feeling particularly unnerved to begin with, i feel worse rather than better after seeing her. it's NOT because of anything she did or said, absolutely NOT. i think it's me realizing i only have me once i've left her office. she has no magic pill to make all the thoughts, anxiety, and behaviors go away. talking with her helps, but once i've left the office, i'm the only one i've got. i've either got to get through this or not. i've got to sit with my discomfort, my worry, my fears, and my thoughts, or not. and that sucks. it's uncomfortable, disconcerting, and distressing.

my brain is taunting, "no, no,'s useless. all those plans you've been working on, all those happy thoughts you've had...see, it's useless! this is the real you. you can't do any of that! this is what happens when you try to live a 'normal' life--you can't, because we always come back. actually, we never left. we've been here all along. it's fun to let you build yourself up while we wait to knock you back down. yeh, we've been stifling our giggles watching you 'grow.' had a few laughs at your expense. 

you think you can escape from us, from this? HA! we'll move things when you're not looking, turn on radios that aren't there, and cue destructive thoughts in your brain until you're willing to bleed to kill us. that's how it is. that's how it's always been. so go on, get back in bed. don't you think it's time to rest?"

time to rest...if only i could. rest would require me lying down with me. more opportunity for my cruel brain to tie me in knots, question reality, and weigh me down. but escaping doesn't offer much hope either. i'm stuck with myself. right now, there is no more uncomfortable place to be. no wonder i feel sad, hopeless, and alone. depression has the edge...again.


Anonymous said...


I was at work a few days ago and was looking for a couple of new running blogs to read, as I'm an avid, avid runner. I found a few in a blog directory, and came across yours. I was more curious than anything else, given the title of yours.

As I started reading the most recent posts you had written, I could feel the desperation, uncertainty, hope, isolation, community and anticipation in your writing. After a few posts, I closed my browser and thought to myself about how insidious your illness must be.

As I read about your struggle with doubt, fear and lack of stability, I was having to fight back the urge to just shout out to you that your plight isn't hopeless, you're not alone, your life is precious and important.

Etta, I don't know you from the lady I passed while running down the road the other day, but I do know this: a loving, caring God formed you in this life, and has a purpose and a plan for you in this crazy, mixed up world. I know your illness tries to keep you isolated and beat down into analyzing and over-analyzing every thoght, action, word and deed in order to find out how things WILL NOT work out for you. Your illness is very, very real, and I know that. In the middle of the analysis though, remember this and that it came from a total stranger:


Etta, I've never "commented" on someone's blog before, so this is a first for me. But I would be doing you a disservice if I allowed what I read to go unanswered. I want you to know, more than anything else, that this total stranger stopped by to reaffirm to you that YOU MATTER.

Trust me on this one, I will keep reading your blog, and I will absolutely, certainly, positively, without-fail pray for your recovery, your healing, your heart and your purpose, every single day.


Janine Kain said...

Oh I so totally relate to this post. Not sure if knowing that is any comfort to you - but it certainly helps me to know what I am going through someone else knows exactly how it feels.

etta said...

Chris--thank you so much for taking the time to comment. I appreciate your thoughts and feedback, and I really appreciate your prayers! I don't always feel like this, but right now, I can use all the help I can get. Thanks and welcome to my blog. I look forward to hearing from you again.

Jackal--I'm sorry you can relate, but I'm glad it helps to know you are not alone. You hang in there, and I will too.