The metaphor I have used is the Daffy Duck cartoon where Bugs is in the animator’s chair, and the darkness keeps dripping down on Daffy, whose trying to hold it up with sticks and other devices. It finally falls on him, covering him completely.
As someone who is going through a rather nasty dip right now, those commercials really piss me off.
Darkness dripping down into your brain.
You can’t explain it to others in any meaningful way.
And that just adds to the darkness.
The umbrella? I thought that was a metaphor for the drug in that it protects you from the raining down of the darkness.
But, I don’t watch TV anymore so I probably am out of the loop on this one.
The bathrobe thing? Yeah, I know what that feels like.
Yesterday was the second wedding anniversary that my wife missed because she had the temerity of dying before me. I was pretty depressed. Sat here in my tower room and brooded. And posted here, of course.
Sometimes I think if it weren’t for ‘here’ I would have killed myself.
Most of the time, though, like today, things are fine.
Sorry for unloading.
That’s exactly how my depression feels. Like I’m wearing a huge lead apron and every single movement is more difficult and requires so much more effort.
Pressure from inside the cheeks/temple area like fighting back tears. Which come for no reason and with almost no warning–almost like a seizure or a wave than a building sorrow. Throat tightens a bit, elbows ache & sometimes knees, cold without chills, shallow breathing, entire body is tense as I fight for the self control to just sit up and move around. The only relaxing position is fetal, tightly bound up in blankets–anything else requires physical effort and is physically exhausting.
Using Lust4Life’s post as perspective, it’s not that depression is comforting or enjoyable in some perverse way, it’s that fighting it is so hard that there is a kind of relief in just giving up. Kind of like fighting a tiger–you have no hope of winning, so do you want to go hard or easy?
When I am at my worst, I get a tight, crushing pain in my throat and chest. Most of the time I feel like my limbs are 10 times as heavy as they are, or I’m swimming through molasses. You can’t truly touch things through the molasses, and you don’t want to anyway. It’s just better to conserve energy by lying on the couch all day.
I feel bad for y’all. I originally became depressed when I hit puberty and now I’m 51 - it’s the worst. anxiety, too.
but things can improve; I know this.
here is a book to consider
same author wrote an earlier book called Undoing Depression but the anxiety one is more… holistic, or something.
anyway, internet hugs to all.
I understand this perfectly. But I also get that it is so worth it to fight out of it anyway. The thing is, I’ve acquired a number of tools over the years to get back to normal pretty quickly.
One of those, BTW, is to do exactly what I asked a few posts back – describe the physical symptoms. It’s best to do that in a non-judgmental, detached way, without giving the symptoms any sort of value such as good or bad. Then just sit for a few minutes and observe how the symptoms change over time. It can work pretty well!
tdn,
this is a good description of ACT - Acceptance and Commitment Therapy. it’s got a good track record of helping people!
Wow, that fits like a puzzle piece. Thanks for that!
I cannot sing the praises enough of ACT. I did it for about a year and it made a huge difference in my life. It was the moment I stopped trying to ‘‘cure’’ my depression, the moment I accepted that I have a chronic illness and learned to focus more on the things I care about, regardless of how I felt. (Mindfulness is a huge component of ACT, but there is a lot more to it.)
I have been reading The Happiness Trap - Olives, do you recommend any other book about this?
scholarly looking emoticon here
My crash course on ACT was with a clever little book called Things Might Go Terribly Horribly Wrong.
I also got a lot out of The Mindfulness and Acceptance Workbook for Depression.
Oh dear. I’m sorry. I hope you’re doing better now.
I like the Daffy Duck metaphor described above. I find that at my worst that depression feels like I’m going to suffocate and I can’t get enough light. I also become afraid to sleep during the day. Not sure about the sleep thing.
Someone somewhere, I think it may have been here, came up with the best description of how depression feels that I’ve yet seen. At least, when I tell it to other people, they seem to get it, and no other metaphor or description I’ve tried has done that. It’s like this:
Normal person:
Wakes up in the morning, showers and gets dressed, grabs some breakfast, heads to work.
Depressed person:
Hears the alarm. Crosses the room to turn it off. Looks for slippers. Turns the shower on. Waits for shower to warm up. Undresses. Washes body. Washes hair. Rinses hair. Gets out of shower. Dries off. Finds toothbrush. Brushes teeth. Finds underwear. Finds socks. Finds shirt. Finds pants. Gets dressed. And so on and so on and so on. You haven’t even started making breakfast yet.
Everything’s so fucking hard. Every little detail in life takes concentration and effort, and it never gets any better, you don’t form the habits of behavior than anyone else does, where things just get done without thinking about them. And the whole time all you want to do is say fuckitall and crawl in bed and pull the covers over your head.
There’s other stuff to it, like compulsive coping behaviors, lack of enjoyment, all kinds of stuff, but I think that sheer effort of just living is the nasty black hole at the center of it all.
Either of these two ad agencies: Digitas Health or BBDO/CDM, depending on exactly when the ads were thought up/made (probably a while ago, knowing what regulations these people have to go through):
The trick is to this is come to this conclusion in the first place. It’s not something you’re going to get to during an episode. Enough can’t be said for self-awareness. You’ve got to know when you’re lucid, and then you have to recognize there are times when you’re not and what that’s like, and then you have to recognize when you’re slipping away, and then you have to remember to tell yourself things will get better and that this is just a chemical problem, and then you have to be willing to believe that when your instinct is to cower and beat yourself down. And then, having managed all that, you have to endure. Because simply being ready for the fight doesn’t keep it from coming, it just keeps you from getting your ass whupped–and “to get back to normal pretty quickly” which seems like forever from the inside.