This is what those who have never experienced genuine depression will never understand. Everything can be going perfectly in your life, but you still can’t find the energy to bring color back into your world no matter what you do. The overwhelming numbness just eats away at you, and you withdraw even further. Some of us may even turn to substances to just feel SOMETHING, regardless of how fleeting the escape may be, and how much worse we know we’ll feel afterwards. You are unable to see the light at the end of the tunnel, the future is bleak, and you will die alone in a world that doesn’t give a fuck, so what’s the point?
So you finally find the courage to confide in somebody, and they tell you that you just need to “get past it, think positive!” and that they also “get depressed too”… and the worst part is, you are unable to describe to them in any way how it truly feels, because they’ve genuinely never felt it themselves, so now you worry that you’re just coming across as dramatic, furthering the desire to withdraw and keep your thoughts to yourself.
I’m currently going through a depressed period, if it isn’t obvious. I’ll be okay in another week, but it’s fucking horrible, and I wouldn’t wish this on anybody.
What I hated most about my depression is it would take anything that happened and make it terrible. I got a promotion? Great, more work to do. My wife cooked my favorite meal? Great, now there’s a ton of dishes to do. I’m gonna take a break and play a game? I’ll probably lose, why bother playing.
And this fatalism morphed into anxiety that made it so I couldn’t get out of bed in the morning. I’d lay there paralyzed with fear about failing at everything that day, to the point where I’d set my alarm to go off early just so I could have time to have a panic attack.
One thing that helped me a lot was to give that little voice a name, and then tell it to fuck off every time it spoke up.
I had even more than him, and I was suicidally depressed at one point.
It’s literally your brain being broken. What’s happening outside doesn’t really matter.
This is what those who have never experienced genuine depression will never understand. Everything can be going perfectly in your life, but you still can’t find the energy to bring color back into your world no matter what you do. The overwhelming numbness just eats away at you, and you withdraw even further. Some of us may even turn to substances to just feel SOMETHING, regardless of how fleeting the escape may be, and how much worse we know we’ll feel afterwards. You are unable to see the light at the end of the tunnel, the future is bleak, and you will die alone in a world that doesn’t give a fuck, so what’s the point?
So you finally find the courage to confide in somebody, and they tell you that you just need to “get past it, think positive!” and that they also “get depressed too”… and the worst part is, you are unable to describe to them in any way how it truly feels, because they’ve genuinely never felt it themselves, so now you worry that you’re just coming across as dramatic, furthering the desire to withdraw and keep your thoughts to yourself.
I’m currently going through a depressed period, if it isn’t obvious. I’ll be okay in another week, but it’s fucking horrible, and I wouldn’t wish this on anybody.
What I hated most about my depression is it would take anything that happened and make it terrible. I got a promotion? Great, more work to do. My wife cooked my favorite meal? Great, now there’s a ton of dishes to do. I’m gonna take a break and play a game? I’ll probably lose, why bother playing.
And this fatalism morphed into anxiety that made it so I couldn’t get out of bed in the morning. I’d lay there paralyzed with fear about failing at everything that day, to the point where I’d set my alarm to go off early just so I could have time to have a panic attack.
One thing that helped me a lot was to give that little voice a name, and then tell it to fuck off every time it spoke up.