Battling Depression

(I wrote this note to my future self while I was suffering from depression some years ago, and had just started to recover. If you're experiencing something similar, or know someone who is, take care and remember that it's going to be okay.)

I’ll tell you what depression feels like. At least what it feels like for me. I’m not even sure if it’s just depression, or something else with it. And I’m certain everyone’s experience with it is different. But I’ll share mine anyway.

The first part, probably the most visible one, is the inability to feel happy naturally. Sadness becomes your normal state of being. You pretend to be happy when you’re with others, but given enough time, the fake happiness wears off (not that it is very convincing in the first place), and everyone can tell you’re sad. And you can tell that they can tell, and that only makes you sadder.

So you start avoiding people, because you don’t want them to know that you’re perpetually sad, and you grow tired of pretending (rather unsuccessfully) that you’re not. You stop hanging out with friends, you reply to messages late, and even when you do meet people, you keep to yourself and avoid speaking unless spoken to.

You close yourself in a desperate attempt to ensure that nobody finds out how you’re feeling. Because you’re ashamed too. There’s no reason for you to be perpetually sad. You have everything. A comfortable life, fulfilling work, and great friends. You have more than what most people aspire to have. It feels wrong to be sad in your situation. But you can’t help it, and that’s frustrating.

Because all your attempts to be or act happy are failing, you lose confidence. You are no longer sure of yourself. You start things and give them up halfway because you’re not sure if you have the ability to finish them. You make plans and discard them because you don’t think they will materialize. You don’t want to deal with the disappointment of failure, so you don’t make the effort in the first place. That you way you can tell yourself that chose not to do it, rather than failing after trying. You’re afraid failure will crush you, and this fear prevents you from trying anything new.

All your failed attempts only make things worse for you. It’s a downward spiral of fear, sadness, and failure. Depression feeds on itself, and every day generally feels worse than the last. There are days when you feel better, when you talk to a friend, or go for a walk, or listen to or watch something inspiring. There are days when you feel hopeful, when you see more light, as if you’re climbing out of the pit of depression. But you’re so deep into the pit, and the compounding forces of fear and sadness are so strong that you fall right back into it. And with every failed attempt at getting better you only feel worse.

After a point, you forget what it feels like to be happy. You can’t remember if you ever felt happy at all, and you start doubting if there is even such a thing as happiness. Everything around you only inspires sadness. You start to believe that life is nothing but suffering, and happiness is a myth. You hate everything and everyone, including yourself.

You give up hope. You give up plans. You just want to leave your current life behind and go away forever. Go to a village, and live by yourself, or go to the mountains, away from civilization, and just be with nature. You’re not sure if it will make you feel better, but at least it will take you away from you current life of sadness and misery.

Although deep down you realize that it’s not things or people around you that are making you feel sad, it’s your own mind. A certain state of mind has overtaken you, and when you’re not in it, it can get triggered by the slightest push. Something someone says or does, something you see, or a single thought. You’ve been fighting it constantly, so you’re weak and tired and vulnerable.

One of the rather unexpected effects of depression is loss of appetite. You simply don’t feel like eating. Nothing tastes good, there’s nothing you feel like having. You lose weight surprisingly fast, because you’re practically starving yourself. And you can’t even tell why. To an extent, you see it as a good thing, because you can see yourself losing fat and looking thinner. It’s the one part that actually feels good for a while. The rate of weight loss is alarming, when you really think about it, but most of the time you’re not in a position to think about it clearly, so it continues to happen.

Depression is a disease of the mind, so it’s difficult to fix it with the mind itself, because you’re never thinking straight. Forget fixing it, you’re not even in a position to understand what caused it. You can think of several reasons that seem fairly convincing when you think about them, but it becomes clear shortly afterwards that they’re not. I don’t know if it’s possible to come out of depression on your own. Perhaps that’s why you need help i.e. therapy.

The hardest part, in my experience, is seeking help. You know you need help, but your depressed mind comes up with several reasons that prevent you from seeking it. There’s fear and shame. "What will people think about me? Will I been seen as weak?" "It probably won’t help anyway. I’ve already tried everything. What can they do that I haven’t done already?" "I think I can fix it on my own, I don’t need help, I’m almost out of it." "I don’t think therapy will work for me." "I don’t think anyone can understand what I’m going through. This is different." "I’m not depressed, I’m actually fine. I don’t need help." It’s funny how your mind can use both extremes ("I’m totally fine" vs. "I’m beyond help") and everything in between ("It’s not so bad, I’ll get better myself") to convince you not to seek help. It’s simply a way of rationalizing your fear.

But when you do talk to a friend or a loved one about it, someone who cares about you, you realize it really helps. First of all, it’s a huge relief that you can stop pretending to be fine and constantly struggling to keep a secret. It’s a big load off your chest. Second, you feel accepted and understood. A good friend won’t deny your sadness or try to tell you why you shouldn’t be sad, they’ll acknowledge your sadness and empathize with you. Especially if they’ve been through it themselves. Third, they’ll tell you it’s going to be okay, and it’ll mean a lot when you hear them say it. Because that’s not just a fleeting thought in your fickle and under-confident mind. Just the act of someone else saying it with conviction can have a huge positive impact. It’s like someone shining a flashlight into the dark pit you’re stuck in. It gives you hope.

You have to seek help. Sometimes it’s just physically impossible to come out of the pit on your own, no matter how strong you are. You need someone to thrown in a rope and pull you out. And once you’re out, you can be normal again. So go seek help, that’s the only advice I can give you.