Why Depression?

I have no reason to be sad or depressed - I have a nice life. In depression, I'm always thinking if only I had this, if only I had that, I would feel better. But I know that no external thing, such as a job or relationship, will take away the depression. In depression, I have the same life I had out of depression. I have a beautiful new home, enough money to support myself, a few friends, my cat and my dog. I constantly need to remind myself of this. What I have is a serious illness that colors my world black. The loneliness in depression is excruciating and the physical pain is intense. But I would love to have someone of my own - someone who accepts and loves me with my illness and would support me through the episodes. I don't know if this would make me feel better but I think it would be wonderful. I don't think it will happen and I can't help believing that my life's journey is loneliness. Not having family leaves a huge whole in the human heart.

IT'S BACK AGAIN

After nearly 2 great months of being depression-free and enjoying life, the heaviness in my head and body are back. The black veil has fallen and envelops me in misery. I try to ignore it, knowing that this is the same life I had in those wonderful 2 months, but it doesn't work very well. Last night I awoke frequently with a wave of panic washing through me each time. It's just so sad because life has much beauty. In this illness, everything hurts. I try not to be angry and sorry for myself, but that's hard too. Life is hardly worth living with this illness, but as always, my pets rescue me. Thank you Danni and Pasha.

A Quote

 One reason I write this blog is to try and help others understand depression. I think the following may give some insight. The first paragraph is quoted from Kay Redfield Jamison, Night Falls Fast.

“The horror of profound depression, and the hopelessness that usually accompanies it, are hard to imagine for those who have not experienced them. Because the despair is private, it is resistant to clear and compelling description".  Novelist William Styron, however, in recounting his struggle with suicidal depression, captures vividly the heavy, inescapable pain. "What I had begun to discover is that, mysteriously and in ways that are totally remote from normal experience, the gray drizzle of horror induced by depression takes on the quality of physical pain. But it is not an immediately identifiable pain, like that of a broken limb. It may be more accurate to say that despair, owing to some evil trick played upon the sick brain by the inhabiting psyche, comes to resemble the diabolical discomfort of being imprisoned in a fiercely overheated room."

Writing Helps

Don't know how I survive this. Depression seems to be getting worse as I age. Maybe it's because I've wound up alone. I don't know why. I'm a beautiful, intelligent, and compassionate person. Not having a family is brutal for me. Everyone around me talks about going here or there with a sister, or going to a family gathering, or how their children are doing. I hate complaining and always try hard to show a positive face. Often I succeed but there are times when it's impossible. Those are the times I just sleep because I can't bear the pain. There is nothing friends can do to help me so they tend to stay away which intensifies the isolation. They don't even read this blog. I think that people are still afraid of mental illness.

There are so many wonderful things I could participate in, but this illness renders me unable to do anything, to start anything. There is a nice gym here near my new home and I want to go. My body is weakening from lack of exercise. But the depression is paralyzing so I can't get there. I live close to a beautiful synagogue that I would like to go to, but I can't get there. There are beautiful walking paths here by my new home but I can't get there. There is also an art studio and a pottery studio - things I would love, but I can't get there. My one saving grace is the dog park - I can get there. Watching the dogs play always lifts me out of my head so I go everyday. The physical pain of my depression is intense. I feel it in my head and in my stomach. The only person I can talk to about this is my doctor. She listens with compassion and always tells me that I'm not alone - that we are in it together and are here to help each other. I'd be lost without her. Everyday I count my blessings - my pets, a beautiful and safe place to live, enough money to get by, a good part-time job, a few friends. But it is hard not to feel broken, because I am. My heart and my life have been broken. Faith Middleton, on NPR, talks about the richness of life. I am an outsider looking in at this richness - craving to taste it.

How to Help People with Depression

If you've been reading my blog, you may have a sense of how terrible and isolating the illness of depression can be - feeling that there is no where to turn, and no one to turn to, for comfort. The majority of people don't understand it, some are afraid of it, and they don't know how to help. People often say "I wish I could help but don't know what to do".

Here are two simple things that you can do to help:
Visit or call, or do both - even if the visit or call is brief - even if your friend has nothing to say. The depressed person feels very alone, even though they are not. Your visits and calls will help them to feel less alone and less isolated. These acts of kindness will mean more than you can know to someone who is living with this terrible illness.

Is Oblivion Really Bliss?

Imagine mourning your own life while you are still alive.

My life has been stolen by depression – my whole life. It’s stolen family, friends, jobs, joy, peace, creativity, productivity.

It’s no one’s fault. Even though I inherited this illness from my father and his family, I cannot blame them.

But I mourn my loss.

I once wrote a paper for a college class entitled “The Person.”

It told about a recurrent dream I had, where I was locked inside a clear plastic bubble. I could see and hear what was going on outside, but no one could see or hear me. I would bang on the bubble’s walls and scream, “I’m in here”, but no one responded. The ultimate isolation dream.

That dream pretty much sums up my life. That old rock and a hard place – the deep desire to participate in life in a never ending battle with the paralysis of depression.  Perhaps if I were not so intelligent I would not know what I was missing. Is oblivion really bliss?

DNA Testing Revisited

Taking antidepressants has been an on-going  battle for me, particularly when the illness is in full bloom. I’m not quite sure why but have two hypotheses. One – I think I’m poisoning my body. Two – they feed into the social stigma that I am damaged. Ridiculous. Intellectually I know that I am not damaged but have a serious illness. And even if these meds somehow shorten my life, I’d rather live a short, depression-free life than a long, suffering existence. I often did not listen to my doctor, either by stopping meds too early or taking a lower dosage than prescribed. I think, and hope, that I’ve finally learned my lesson.

I’ve talked about DNA testing in previous blogs, and most recently said the meds recommended for me as a result of these tests were not working. I now know that I had not given them enough time. After being on Pristiq for 3 weeks and Wellbutrin for 3 days, I emailed my doctor, saying I wanted to get off the Pristiq, thinking it was making me worse. I have great respect for my doctor and had made a pact with her that I would not alter medication without discussing it with her. I had broken that pact in the past and not wanting to do that again, I quickly emailed her again saying I would stay on the meds. After all, she is my doctor, so if I’m not going to listen to her, what’s the point?

Yesterday, the depression lifted. It was as if someone threw a switch in my brain. Had I stopped the meds, I very likely would still be in hell. Today is another good day and I hope for many more.

Thank you, Catherine.