There are no words

I have read a number of stories, blog posts, etc. about Chris Cornell and depression over the past few days. His death is an incredibly sad cultural loss and personal loss for his loved ones. It also exemplifies the simple truth that depression is indiscriminate. It does not affect a certain type of person; it is not the result of a character flaw or a lack of personal ambition; it does not care what you have achieved or how much you are loved. It is an illness caused by a chemical imbalance in the brain, a chemical imbalance that exists among millionaires and rock stars as well as the people who live next door. It effects the moms and dads and grandparents and teenagers who you know and even love. It is so much more common than you realize. Knowing this fact, really internalizing it, is a very important, powerful step towards de-stigmatizing mental illness and providing true support, even empathy, to those who suffer from it.

Even so, simply recognizing that depression is an illness is not enough. We need you to believe that depression is not something that can be “fixed” through personal effort or optimism. We need you to acknowledge that dealing with depression requires serious, often long-term treatment. It also requires fucking hard work just to survive. Many people who suffer from depression, myself included, put in more emotional work just to get to “normal” each day, than many people expend simply living their lives.  Having someone we love truly believe these truths about depression is an incredibly validating experience. It makes us feel seen and heard. It makes us feel less alone.

I have found the most difficult part in bridging the gap of understanding between myself and my loved ones is my inability to adequately describe what my depression feels like. Yes, it is caused by a chemical imbalance, but an imbalance that doesn’t cause any adverse feelings would be irrelevant. It is the feelings caused by the imbalance that make depression what it is. And those feelings are different for each person. However, in an effort to give some sense, some words to what depression can be like, I offer up my personal experience and feelings:

  • Depression takes me back; it examines every mistake I’ve ever made and forces me to physically and emotionally experience those past events. I feel the chest tightening, heart-wrenching pain of every loss. I feel the waves of shame starting in the pit of my stomach, traveling through my chest and then my face. I examine every major decision I ever made and sob at the imagined joy I may have missed.
  • Depression critically examines my current life circumstances and meticulously points out every area in which I am failing. It tells me, viciously and repeatedly, that I should be a better, more patient and loving mother who spends more quality time with her children. It tells me I spend far too much time on the mundane tasks of day-to-day household management rather than with my family. It make me feel like an inferior partner to my husband, who I now depend on financially; that I ask too much; that I don’t contribute enough; that I am a burden; that eventually he will leave me.
  • Depression also robs me of hope for the future. It tells me that my pain and regrets will never go away. I feel as though nothing will ever change or get better; that I will spend the rest of my life feeling overwhelmed by mothering three children, satisfying my husband’s emotional needs and keeping my own head above water. Depression makes me feel like no matter what treatment I seek, or how religiously I adhere to any doctor’s recommendations, I will never feel better, not in a sustained way.

Depression makes me feel all of the above, day in and day out, nearly everyday of my life. It is exhausting. It feels so unfair. Even though I know it is not my fault, even though I constantly preach that message, I still feel like it is my fault much of the time. How can I not? It is my own mind after all. Why can’t I just control it?

But I can’t, I can’t control it, or stop it, or fix it. Believe me, I’ve tried. Depression is part of who I am. It always will be. It is my monster. My internal demon that I will never be able to truly share with anyone else. I bear the burden. I will carry it, always. I will carry it as far and as long as I can.

 

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