posted on 02.05.13

“Depression is humiliating. It turns intelligent, kind people into zombies who can’t wash a dish or change their socks. It affects the ability to think clearly, to feel anything, to ascribe value to your children, your lifelong passions, your relative good fortune. It scoops out your normal healthy ability to cope with bad days and bad news, and replaces it with an unrecognizable sludge that finds no pleasure, no delight, no point in anything outside of bed. You alienate your friends because you can’t comport yourself socially, you risk your job because you can’t concentrate, you live in moderate squalor because you have no energy to stand up, let alone take out the garbage. You become pathetic and you know it. And you have no capacity to stop the downward plunge. You have no perspective, no emotional reserves, no faith that it will get better. So you feel guilty and ashamed of your inability to deal with life like a regular human, which exacerbates the depression and the isolation. If you’ve never been depressed, thank your lucky stars and back off the folks who take a pill so they can make eye contact with the grocery store cashier. No one on earth would choose the nightmare of depression over an averagely turbulent normal life. It’s not an incapacity to cope with day to day living in the modern world. It’s an incapacity to function. At all. If you and your loved ones have been spared, every blessing to you. If depression has taken root in you or your loved ones, every blessing to you, too. No one chooses it. No one deserves it. It runs in families, it ruins families. You cannot imagine what it takes to feign normalcy, to show up to work, to make a dentist appointment, to pay bills, to walk your dog, to return library books on time, to keep enough toilet paper on hand, when you are exerting most of your capacity on trying not to kill yourself. Depression is real. Just because you’ve never had it doesn’t make it imaginary. Compassion is also real. And a depressed person may cling desperately to it until they are out of the woods and they may remember your compassion for the rest of their lives as a force greater than their depression. Have a heart. Judge not lest ye be judged.”

Depression is not a synonym for being sad or having a bad day/bad week.

(Source: sherunsfromdarkness)

posted on 25.04.13
posted on 06.12.12

why can’t we just

logic away anxiety

why is that not a thing

someone should make it a thing

posted on 10.11.12 think differently

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dionnesyl:

So I came home from school to see my 7 year old sister putting skittles with my antidepressants, I went up to her and asked “Hey what you doing?” She looked at me, smiled and said “Skittles make me happy so I put them with your medicine that makes you happy so you can be extra happy.” That was the cutest thing i’ve ever heard.
posted on 10.11.12

dionnesyl:

So I came home from school to see my 7 year old sister putting skittles with my antidepressants, I went up to her and asked “Hey what you doing?” She looked at me, smiled and said “Skittles make me happy so I put them with your medicine that makes you happy so you can be extra happy.” That was the cutest thing i’ve ever heard.

posted on 27.10.12 dementor face

***this has been a mess. your regularly scheduled fandom posts shall resume shortly***

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posted on 12.10.12
“I felt despair. The word ‘despair’ is overused and banalized now, but it’s a serious word, and I’m using it seriously. It’s close to what people call dread or angst, but it’s not these things, quite. It’s more like wanting to die in order to escape the unbearable sadness of knowing I’m small and weak and selfish and going, without doubt, to die. It’s wanting to jump overboard.”

— David Foster Wallace, “A Supposedly Fun Thing I’ll Never Do Again,” as quoted in D. T. Max’s Every Love Story Is a Ghost Story. (via fishingboatproceeds)

posted on 08.10.12 Anxiety and stuff

fishingboatproceeds:

(Last DFW-related post for a while, I promise.)

In a story David Foster Wallace wrote in college, “The Planet Trillaphon as It Stands in Relation to the Bad Things,” the protagonist describes depression like this: “Some people say it’s like having always before you and under you a huge black whole without a bottom, a black, black hole, maybe with vague teeth in it, and then your being part of the hole.”

He returned to this idea a few times, and—to use a group-therapy phrase—I really identify with it.

I’m very lucky never (so far at least) to have experienced the kind of horrifying psychic pain that Kate Gompert feels in Infinite Jest, the depression memorably described as “the Great White Shark of pain,” and “a nausea of the cells and soul.” 

But my experience of anxiety (and there’s pretty good evidence now that all these obsessive brain disorders are at least somewhat related) is very much like the feeling of being unable to escape the hole and then beginning to feel that I have become the thing that surrounded me, as if the obsessive worry has enclosed me and then emptied me out.

The curious thing here, of course, is that the anxiety is almost always pretty insular and narcissistic, so “you” feel like you’re losing control of yourself as you fall into/become this dark hole, but in fact you are literally doing nothing except thinking about you.

This in turn makes you feel worse about yourself (at least if you’re me), which only makes it harder to think about anything else. There is probably a term for this narcissistic cycle, but I don’t know it.

The nice thing, though, is that by having language to describe this and metaphors to understand it, the whole affair becomes a little less terrifying. And you can even use language to reconstitute yourself, to say, “I have not become part of some infinite vacuum; I am a human being.” Language is insufficient treatment, of course, even for my relatively minor psychological challenges. But it’s a very useful one, and I think the central reason that David Foster Wallace’s work has become so important to so many people is that it made them feel unalone, even in their most deeply solipsistic places.

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posted on 08.10.12 The Imbalance

thefrogman:

A long time ago there were some events in my life that led me towards undesirable brain chemistry. For the most part, I’ve dealt with my emotional demons and put them behind me, but that imbalance in my brain remains.

There are pills and I have a puppy. That is usually enough to keep me from feeling the full force of my depression. I’m able to maintain my willpower and emotional stability. But that stability is built from a house of cards. A delicate structure that can collapse with even the slightest disturbance. And once it falls, it can take a while to build again. 

Too many people think it is purely a sadness. Sadness in depression is like Bon Jovi’s keyboard player. He plays a solo from time to time, but no one really knows his name. Stress, anxiety, exhaustion, lack of sleep, and a consistent plethora of negative emotions are all members of the depression band. I do wish some people would stop thinking this complex illness is only the damn keyboard player.

So what does a comedian do when depression hits, the ideas dry up, and he has people to entertain?

My current strategy is to post cute animals and hope no one notices I haven’t been creating much lately. Unfortunately when I hit these slumps I always lose a big chunk of my audience. It feels like I’m taking a step back. It’s that same feeling as forgetting to save your game, your thumb spazzes, and you jump directly into a canyon. 

“I have to do all that again?”

The good news is that these slumps never last. I will regain my mojo and the ideas will return.

Until then, cute animal pictures.

i think i need to print out the part about bon jovi’s keyboard player (whose name i -honestly and truly- do not know) and just hand it out to like

everyone ever

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posted on 08.10.12

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posted on 02.10.12

zefrank:

on getting better

helps me believe… if only because he sounds so sure

posted on 01.10.12 it’s okay

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posted on 27.09.12

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posted on 26.09.12

that moment when a teacher knows you’re dealing with stress and anxiety and depression and insomnia and that you have other classes with other coursework and that you missed a funeral that day and so are preoccupied and that you are, you know, just generally,

not

okay

and they still insist you’re just not taking things seriously enough.

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posted on 18.09.12 The Girls I Babysit:
  • Carly: What are those? (pointing to my scars on my wrist)
  • Me: They're battle scars.
  • Anna: Cool! Can I have some?
  • Me: Please don't ever get some okay? But when you seem someone with them like the ones I have on their wrists go hug them. Don't ever make fun of them okay?
  • As we're walking around Wal Mart with both of them holding my hands, a young girl walks by us. Carly and Anna go and hug her. She hugs these two adorable little girls back
  • Girl: Why are you hugging me?
  • Carly: You have battle scars. *points to her wrists*
  • And through her tears she looks up at me and smiles.

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