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!

Sunday, March 22, 2020

Dichotomy

I want to say something...but I don't know that anything I say makes a difference. That's one of the problems with this illness. No matter what I say, I can't make you get it. I've been writing about depression for over 10 years, and I still don't think I can make it make sense. If you know me and/or you don't have depression, I really doubt you can comprehend what depression does to my body and my brain.

Here's the thing. In my everyday life, I am a normal person. I have wonderful relationships with friends, coworkers, and patients. I'm polite and kind even when nobody is looking. Okay, I do get frustrated with slow drivers in the left lane, but we all have our gripes, right? I'm a good employee. I manage my money. I take care of my body. I do things I enjoy. And I generally make well thought out decisions. I live my life, manage the ups and downs, and do my best to be a decent human being. I'm normal.

Depression steals normal. But that's too easy. It's so much more complicated and secretive than that. Depression steals my life in ways so disruptive, yet subtle; so illogical, yet calculated. Sometimes it sneaks up from behind, attacks with a vengeance, and leaves me flailing violently and blind. But at other times it slowly seeps; slimy, secretive and unseen, gumming up neural pathways, dulling my senses and corrupting my thoughts. But even that's too easy.

I can't explain how it feels not to feel. It's like walking through the world cloaked in cheesecloth. Every touch, every sound, every sight...nothing is sharp. Nothing is clear. Everything is muted.

I'm getting frustrated trying to write this. My "normal" brain is not working. It's overwhelmed with both lethargy and noise. Obscene, obscure, distorted thoughts continuously collide inside my skull. Unending noise crashing about. Yet unending lethargy paralyzing me.

I can't say anything more.

The dichotomy of my normal state versus my depression state... It makes me nuts. It makes me feel crazy. It makes me want to disappear because I know you can't get it. Even if you try to, want to, love me, and support me... you can't understand. I guess I should be happy about that.

But the isolation is killing me.

4 comments:

Am816 said...

I can't wave a wand and make everything better; I wish I could. I can send your way love, peace, and prayers.

Paul Lamb said...

I do get what you're saying. We have our public lives, our public veneers, and we have our personal live, only ours are more dark and frightening than most. And with all of this mandated isolation, we find ourselves in the company of our personal lives almost exclusively.

Katy said...

I've been thinking about you Etta. This isolation is the worst thing with depression. I am able to go out and run, bike, or walk which is saving me. I just keep my distance from others.

I get it. I absolutely get it when you say depression takes the normal. I don't think someone without it can really understand it. Most of your readers can understand it. Thanks for writing.

Teen Mind said...

Felt this 500%. Everyword painted a picture.



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