In light of the recent death of Robin Williams (I'm sooo bummed out about it) and the discussions about depression that have arisen in its wake, I would like to add my personal observations.
In the early 1990's I discovered I was suffering from depression. I say discovered because I was not clinically diagnosed nor was I ever treated for it. So how did I know I was clinically depressed and not just feeling a temporary case of the blues? I read it in a medical pamphlet in a pediatrician's waiting room. During a routine visit for one of my children, I picked up one of several informative pamphlets the office offered as reading material. This one happened to be on depression and I chose it because I suspected it as the source of my malaise. It contained a checklist of symptoms of depression -- constant fatigue, decreased energy, not caring about personal appearance and/or hygiene, feelings of helplessness, feelings of hopelessness, excessive sleeping, insomnia, not wanting to get out of bed, loss of interest in activities once considered pleasurable -- the list went on. As I ticked off the symptoms that I had been experiencing I came to an uncomfortable and sad realization -- I was indeed clinically depressed. Of all the symptoms on the list, only two of them didn't apply. In retrospect, I strongly suspect that postpartum depression was the culprit but it didn't matter. What did matter was that I was in a place I didn't want to be, didn't know how to get out of and had no one to talk to about it. In spite of having friends and family, I felt totally isolated and lonely, as if everyone in the world had moved on with their lives and had left me behind.
When you're in a depressive state, nothing anyone says really matters because you're unable to process and internalize it. Words roll off you like water off a duck's back and you feel as if no one understands what you're going through. That, in fact, is true. No one does, at least no one who hasn't been through it themselves. And even those who have don't necessarily know what to say or what to do to make a difference. In my case, I felt as if I was trapped in a hole and couldn't climb out. The only thing that kept me going was the need to care for my three children, one of whom was a newborn, another was a toddler and another was a a young teenager. They were my lifeline and the thing I focused on. I knew they were counting on me and I wouldn't let them down, no matter how bad I felt. I owed them that and my commitment to their welfare was fierce.
Eventually (perhaps a couple of years or so) I was able to climb out of that black hole of despair (without drugs, I'm happy to say) and return to some resemblance of a fully functional human being but I can't put my finger on any one thing that triggered my recovery. What I can say is this: Depression is real. It is not a cry for attention. It is not something you'll "get over" quickly. It IS something that is very misunderstood and it manifests itself differently in everyone. Some people slowly make their way back to life. Others fall deeper into a pit of despair. Take it from one who has been there and back. Depression is real, its scary and it is no joke.
Here is a link that I found very informative and may help you should you find yourself or someone you know in a depressed state. Remember this...there is help if you look for it. Be well.
Ballo ergo sum
- Gitana, the Creative Diva