Phouka pretty much described what it feels like for me. And like olives, I’ll roam the kitchen but come up with nothing. I stopped taking my meds right now because I’m pregnant and it makes me nervous to take them. The doc said it should be fine because I’m on a lower dose, but you always hear so many bad things about depression/anxiety meds and pregnancy. I set my alarm on my phone and force myself to eat when it goes off. So far, that’s been working well.
As for the crying, I wish it did help. It usually happens because I’m feeling too overwhelmed and I can’t see the way out. After it passes I feel silly. And guilty. And then we start the cycle all over again.
When I’m not on my medication I am extremely negatively emotional and start crying about the stupidest things (like my character dying in a video game). I lose the ability to see the good side of anything and every little thing is a huge catastrophe. For instance, before I started my medication something like finding out that my taxes wouldn’t be processed until March because the government isn’t ready for them yet would have had me sobbing uncontrollably and freaking out about how horrible this is and everything’s going to fall apart. Instead, I got mildly annoyed and joked about it on facebook. Then I went to work and had a good time with my coworkers and customers.
Basically, I become an alarmist and a complete pessimist with a crying problem.
In addition to my mental state, I lose the ability to care about my home, the clothes, my own cleanliness, or my health. I either eat nothing for days on end or I binge for days on end. I find myself doing things to deliberately alienate my fiance. The only thing that manages to remain important to me when I’m off my meds is my dogs. The rest of the world, including my friends and family, can basically get stuffed.
This. Over the years there are countless activities that I’ve rationalized not doing because it was “not worth it” to get out and go there. Lots and lots of tickets gone to waste. Most of the time it’s simply a matter of taking a shower, getting dressed, and leaving the house. Or convincing myself I have “better things to do,” which is rarely true.
My depression usually makes me more angry than sad; it’s not really a crying type of depression. I tend to lash out verbally and physically, although physically only against myself and/or inanimate objects (I recently commented in the January Rant thread how I hurt my hand punching myself in the knee; I’m just now getting over that).
The only thing that really makes me cry (more of a welling-up than a full-blown bawl, actually) is the thought of losing my cats, for example when I read a sad story about pets. How weird is that? My pets’ mortality is of far greater psychological importance than any human’s. Maybe this is because it seems more real because of their shorter lifespan? In any event I think it’s a bit weird and maybe something-pathic. It’s also weird that historically I’ve cried more when in a fit of rage than when I’ve been sad.
Like others, I find it hard to do anything. Nothing really interests me much, nor brings me much in terms of pleasure if and when I do it. I decide I’m going to do something, but then when the time comes to do it, I reject it. The only thing that makes me feel any better is seeing my long-time friends in group situations. Unfortunately these events are far too rare given everyone else’s familial needs.
I look at big ticket items to buy thinking these might bring some pleasure, like a new car, new computer or gadget. My intensely rational and frugal self will, for the most part, not follow through on these whims. My wallet and bank account are thankful for this.
Finally, and perhaps most importantly, like panache45 I seek comfort in food. These effects are short-lived though, and end up compounding the mood when I start to feel guilty (and physically ill) after indulging. Rationally I know this going in, but the urge is too great sometimes to fight off. Once it’s started it has a horrific snowball effect, to the extent that I will often leave the house and drive around to separate myself from food before I go over the edge.
Unfortunately I have been in this state for months, and it’s only getting worse. My psychiatrist says it won’t get better until I confront some things and start speaking up, but I fear the outcome of those efforts may only make things worse not just for me but for all involved.
Honestly, it’s hard for me to tell…it’s like trying to describe what having skin is like. I don’t have a lot to compare it against.
“Weight,” maybe…just a feeling of heaviness. Exhaustion. What stuyguy said about how flossing seems like just a horrible, arduous task.
kinda a “good” night for me to answer this, I guess…it’s not been a good night. it feels like the world getting smaller, eroding. Just fast enough for you to notice.
Today was one of my worst days in awhile. (I have Bipolar II, and am depressed a lot of the time.)
I managed to get out of bed okay, early even. Distracted myself with the internet. Then, gradually, I got this feeling something was off. I didn’t really feel like doing anything.
I ended up back in bed off-and-on for two hours. Finally distracted myself (again) with an idea for a cross-stitch project, and have been up since then, thankfully.
For me depression often shows up as an extreme lack of motivation, combined with a “squished” feeling. It’s not doing things to take care of yourself - showering, getting out and about, etc. I rarely get to the point of tears. I’m not sure why.
I have suffered from anxiety and depression most of my life - the first episode occurred at the age of 10 and it has plagued me ever since.
It manifests as lethargy, low energy levels, lack of motivation, sadness, existential thinking, a constant hunger for carbs, and social phobia.
I have found some relief from the sadness, existential thinking and social phobia from a very old anti-depressant called Parnate.
I was unemployed for over a year before I started taking Parnate due mainly to the social phobia aspect of my illness - it made obtaining an interview extremely difficult and if I did have an interview it was impossible to impress with my non-existent confidence. I was employed again within 4 weeks of starting on Parnate.
Parnate is rarely prescribed any more due to potentially fatal side effects if certain foods are eaten - it can cause a dramatic rise in blood pressure which could result in a stroke or heart attack. But for treatment resistant depression it works where other medications do not.
This is how I am. My therapist actually told me to keep my place as clean as possible as effort to change my mood. My place was a mess most of the time, my cats were the only thing I actually took care of. I collect and paint gaming minis, but I havent wanted to do this for a long time. Sometimes I can sit down and paint for a while, but most of the time I can’t even make myself do it.
I’ve been depressed for a long time, longer than I realized it and sought treatment. I swing wildly between anger, sadness, apathy, and manic behavior. I had a bad experience with some ‘friends’ during the time I was starting recovery, and being reminded of it makes me angry, I’ll run through old arguments out loud, getter madder and madder until I realize what I’m doing and spiral into sadness. I still do that sometimes, I’m having a really hard time getting over what happened. I have severe sleep apnea, which means I dont sleep well, which feeds the depression, which then feeds the sleep problem, etc.
Six months ago I lost my job, and several local friends just stop talking to me. I had some days where I would just sit on the couch and stare at the wall for hours on end. Some days I didn’t want to eat, and ate barely anything, and some days I couldnt eat enough. I would cry randomly, sometimes ending up curled up on the floor where ever I was at the time for hours. I would wake up in the morning and start crying cuz I didnt want there to be another day like this. There was lot of drinking. It was bad.
I recently got hired at a good place, have a nice apartment, and am feeling a lot better. The depression is still there, I have to fight it all the time. Even with how bad it is, my brain kinda wants to stay there. It’s a well worn groove on a record, it’s comfortable. I find that keeping myself busy helps. It’s something you have to make yourself do, but it works.
When mine shows up, I often lose energy and stop participating in things I normally enjoy.
Lately I’ve been having attacks where I think “nothing matters.” I deleted a blog that I’d been writing for six months. I’d be halfway through an art project and just give up and throw it away. Sometimes I throw away my hobby supplies, or books, or video games.
Half of it is that I am so depressed I want to give up. For example, if I’m not happy with my art, I view the art as a source of frustration and disappointment. By throwing away all of my art supplies, I’ve given up and made sure I won’t be frustrated ever again. (If only!)
The other half is that I’m big on self-punishment. I often feel like I deserve to be punished for my failures, so anything that is self-destructive (like self-injury or destroying things I enjoy) satisfies the need to be punished. I sometimes feel like I can’t forgive myself for my failures (real or imaginary) unless I’ve been punished for it.
I often have times where I remember something shameful or embarassing (again, things other people would overlook entirely) and I can’t get rid of the guilty feeling unless I recite my “I hate myself” mantra. I just whisper it over and over until the guilty feeling goes away.
Denial, denial, denial! Sometimes weeks of denial before I recognize it for what it is.
I am frantically starting things but seem unable to finish any thing, no matter how small. The best way to ignore all that? Move on to something else, - that won’t get finished!
I am using reading like a drug. Read, just read, escape to another reality. For days and days, the books pile up.
I become less active, mix with SAD and it produces winter hibernation!
That is exactly how I am too. I’ve never been diagnosed with clinical depression and am not seeing a doctor or taking any meds, but I do go through periods of depression (my family has a huge history of mental problems). One of my ONLY outwards signs is not eating, and doing exactly what you describe about staring at the food.
I’ve never really been depressed enough to cry, which is good. That doesn’t sound fun at all
Existential thinking, huh? I do this a lot, I just assumed it was part of my personality rather than a symptom of depression.
In college when I took Existentialism our professor said, ‘‘If you have mental health problems, don’t take this course.’’ I took it. I ended up dropping halfway through. I think Crime and Punishment is a brilliant piece of writing, but I never have been able to finish it, because it makes me want to shoot myself.
I can’t even read this for fear that I’ll kick back into depression mode again. But I agree on the “state of home” bit. I’m clearing out like mad at the moment. I hope I can keep it up.
I live with depression every single day. Some days are worse than others, but it is always there.
I cry a lot. Anything can set me off. A picture or even just saying the name of a lost loved one. The thought of going to work at a job I despise. Anything.
I eat. When I am depressed, I am constantly hungry. I feel empty, so I guess the thoguht process is that by eating it will fill me up. Only… I can eat a big meal, and only when I have eaten too much does it hit me, when my stomach is actually hurting. Then I’ll stop, till the pain goes away, and then I am right back looking for something more to eat.
My creativity leaves. I am a very creative person. I write, I paint, I draw. When the depression is bad, I can’t do any of those things. I recently spent 4 hours trying to write; my total? 2 sentences.
I sleep. When I lay down I am usually asleep in minutes and could sleep 12 hours with no problem. I can take a 2 hour nap in the middle of the day and still sleep that night. Sleep is the only escape I have.
The only thing that keeps me from suicide, from escaping this pit of hell I exist in are my dogs and cats. I do not plan on getting any more, so that when these are gone, I will be free to follow them.
I stop doing things. It feels like to much work to get dressed and go to a movie or out to eat.
When my current bad bout began, with the death of my father in 2005, I stopped cleaning the house. My house is right now in such a state I would have no idea how or where to begin getting it livably clean again.
To answer a little more fully,when I’m in the depths of depression I just don’t want to do anything except sleep. Getting out of bed is like a chore. I feel hopeless and just want to give up on everything. The smallest thing makes me feel like crying. I get very irrational and range from apathy to anger.
The really annoying part is that my rational, logical brain doesn’t shut off and so I’m also constantly telling myself to stop being such a fucking idiot and blowing up over nothing.
No appetite, no motivation, no joy, sleep all the time, distract myself when awake (with reading, gaming). Accomplish nothing. This was my life from 13-18 basically.
I don’t cry when depressed, I feel numb. I can be sad/grieving, without being depressed - and then I do cry, and often (I also eat plenty).
My 15-year-old daughter is clinically depressed, and she is also very angry. Her psychiatrist says that depression in younger people often manifests as anger.
I’m fairly sure that my father suffered from bouts of depression through his adult life. They manifested as times when he withdrew from nearly all social contact outside of family, and with us, he’d have a short temper - not violent and not really directed at us, but yelling and cursing a lot.
Since his late 70s, as dementia has taken hold, he grew much angrier and downright nasty. At the same time, he was so damn lonely, he’d sit up at night with a glass of something alcoholic in his hand and talk to himself. I read up on depression in the elderly, and his symptoms matched something fierce. In fact, I began to think much of his dementia was actually depression. It took over a year of me telling my mom what I was seeing and what I had read. When she finally mentioned it to the doctor - after Dad had become physically violent towards me - the doctor prescribed Seroquel at an anti-depressant and anti-anxiolytic level.
He’s on a more even keel now. The dementia, though, is unabated, and when he does get angry, it’s almost always connected to something he’s forgotten or is no longer unable to do or the helplessness he feels because of that.
