Spoiler alert: there is no bright side of depression. It’s a physical and mental disease, and it sucks. I know because I’ve been coping with it for about twenty years.
When you’re going through a “depressive episode,” the world sees you as you are, but you see nothing as it is. Things that normally bring you joy render you numb, nervous, and unappreciative. Rainy days match your mood, so you look forward to them. On bright, sunny days your instincts tell you to get outdoors and do something fun, but the thought of it, never mind the act, can be downright terrifying. If you do anything at all, it’s through friendly persuasion.
And yet, here’s what’s funny to me about clinical depression (hey, at least I’m not manic!) It’s the word itself: “depression.” It sounds too much like “depressed”, and that’s not it at all. You know that, people close to you know that, but the good-natured souls who try to encourage you believe the appropriate response is to share the things that depress them.
I used to say: “No, no, no, they’re two different things. Everyone gets depressed over something, but sooner or later you get over it. Breaking up with your honey, losing your job, getting a traffic ticket…there are a million such triggers. But they’re all depression with a little “d”. Like “d”isappearing” ink, it just goes away.
Then there’s the Big D. The real thing. The one you can’t stand telling people about, but usually feel better when you do. The kind of depression that envelops you in this invisible cloud that never leaves your side. No one else can see or feel the cloud. You can’t either, but it’s there nonetheless. It makes the whole world look bleak, obscure and pointless. Rationally you know better, but that’s not how you feel.
Depressive episodes also make you want to be alone, not talk to anyone, but still find some way to distract yourself. You see, one of the clinical definitions of depression is “the brain’s inability to shut off worry.” The worries don’t have to be real, they can even be grossly exaggerated. But just try explaining that to your brain…it doesn’t listen to reason.
Xanax and the ever-present love of family help, sleep helps, work and creative writing help, and so does the odd glass of Scotch. Except I’m not sure how or why “odd” ever nudged its way into that phrase…Scotch seems perfectly sane to me.
Still, what’s to be done with those who mistake depression for depressed? I know! I’ll start by choking the living shit out of whoever came up with “depression”. I’m guessing it’s the same person who once had a serious case of head-up-your-ass-agus which no doubt led to terminal gas-expelia. One can only hope.
And yet, however ill-named depression might be, I still have it. It’s not 24/7, but it is a frequent companion. So, I guess I’ll just keep on blogging, cartooning, loving family and friends, concentrating on my business interests, appreciating what I have, and try to stop worrying about what I don’t. All except the last are pretty much no problem. That’s the Big D for you.