Silent Sea . . .

I've struggled with whether or not to discuss this on my blog. On the one hand, my blog is mostly informative and crafty, not really an account of my life in general, as most people would not be interested in reading my diary in a public forum.

On the other hand, I know the power of reading what someone is going through, and seeing yourself in it. It is sometimes good to simply know that you're not alone in what you're feeling, that there is someone else, even someone you've never met, that feels that way too. I'm not a psychiatrist (though I've been to a few), so this is not intended as medical advice and shouldn't be used for diagnosis. There; disclaimer over.

I have clinical depression. I know saying that these days is like saying, "I have two arms!", but I think most people who feel sad probably don't have depression, even if a doctor decides to put them on Prozac. Then there are people like me; in college, I had sort of a nervous breakdown, cried all the time, slept entire days away, and yes, even thought about suicide. A few people got me through it and I made it to the other side, but it made me realize that I had been struggling with depression for most of my life, and would continue to struggle with bouts of it in the years to come. Usually, outwardly, people have no idea how bad I'm feeling; I'm the master of the smile, the cheerful greeting, the phone call full of small inanities while I hope desperately that someone will see through it all to what's really going on underneath. Over the last ten years I've had four or five serious bouts of depression, serious enough that I became someone else for a little while until I got through them. I've been to doctors, I've been on anti-depressants, I've meditated and tried positive thinking. It never seems to get easier.

I've learned to recognize the signs that one is coming on: I stop sleeping well, and feel constantly exhausted. My eating habits change, as does the way my body processes the food I do eat; I feel sick quite a bit. I get a lot of headaches. Those are the physical things. All of this, of course, comes with the fantastic psychological symptoms: it seems like even when I have a good day, the first bad thing ruins it. I find it hard to muster up the desire to do things, and I put a lot of things off that I know I should take care of. I feel ugly, unwanted, and generally a nuisance to those around me. I get irritated with people very easily, and snap at people when I shouldn't. I go into full crisis-mode over nothing, and find myself crying for almost no reason. Sometimes, these episodes can be over in a few weeks. Sometimes, they last a little longer.

 I know this is something I will always have to fight: my great-grandmother, grandmother, and mother have all battled serious depression. I know I am not alone in this, that there are millions of people who fight depression every day. But, this is the kind of insidious disease that makes you feel completely isolated, inside yourself, and incapable of crawling out; silenced, neutured, broken. If you are feeling this way too, take heart: it will end, and you are not the only person feeling these things. I wish I had a better pep talk for you, but hey: depression, remember?

I am sad, sometimes crushingly so. But I am a lot of other things too: writer, artist, actor, singer, animal-lover. I will persevere.

I just hope it doesn't take too long.