Beyond the Blues
Understanding depression is difficult; hear from Psyche's community of peers on their experiences with this mood disorder.
The Three People I Live With
Oh, anxiety. My constant friend. You speak in small, specific sentences with urgency. It’s Not Safe. You Can’t. Something Is Wrong.
Fat Girl
She sits in a dimly lit room while in a death like trance. The blue light of her laptop illuminates her bored eyes. There is music playing. She listens to notes of a piano, beautiful however mellow and dark. Similar to the music a main character in a Gothic movie or book would enjoy. The only difference is that she is not in a movie. Nor is she the main character of a book. She is too distasteful and this is real life. She is overweight and her hair is not brushed or washed. The girl has not slept at night in months. She doesn’t have a special style of clothing. No, she is wearing a pink sweater and shorts. Her legs are not shaved and her nails are not trimmed. She is no good. The tapping of the keyboard in front of her is the only noise aside from the music playing on Spotify. It is an application you can download to your cellphone, tablet, or laptop that streams various music from around the world. She is writing to absolutely nobody. The only light in the room in a dim lamp aside of her. Her desk is a giant cardboard box covered with a black sheet and her chair is a metal framed bed by a window. Winter is coming so it is dark already.
Marisa Kaitlynn RosePublished 6 years ago in PsycheOne Step at a Time
The thing about having depression, anxiety, or eating disorders is that we don't know where it comes from. All we know is that we need help, but at the same time we don't tell anyone about what's going on, because we think we are bothering people while telling them about our problems, we feel like they won't understand, or maybe they'll think we're just looking for attention. But all we're looking for is someone who cares, who actually cares, 'cause at some point we stop caring about ourselves. Once you've hit rock bottom, once you don't know what to do, once you feel so lonely and lost, you need to force yourself and ask for help, because you have to realize it's not going to get better unless you work for it. As stupid as it sounds, we can't really do it by ourselves, because that's the exact moment when everything hits us again. That's when one of those problems interferes with what we are currently fighting for and what we want to achieve. This may sound so messed up, and believe me, if you're not going through any of these things it will sound like it, but it's even worse. So find someone you trust and don't doubt about asking them for help, 'cause you need this, and we need this.
Depression Is Not Beautiful
I do not understand why everyone is so confused about depression. Most people do not fully understand what depression actually is. People assume it’s just feeling sad. But as someone who suffers from depression, I know for a fact, it is NOT beautiful. It is not just feeling sad. It is so much more than that. Depression is waking up in the morning and not wanting to get out of bed, or even to brush your hair. Depression is almost as if you’re completely empty. You are exhausted from doing the bare minimum. Your body aches with the feeling like you do not matter amongst the people you’ve been around all your life. It’s the feeling that there is no hope for you. People can say that they understand what you’re going through, but do they really know? Just know there are millions of people out there who are suffering, just like you are. Some may have it worse than others. But it is not a competition to see who is more depressed and to see who is more poetically sad. People sit there and say that depression is something they want. But, me and millions of other people know this is not something you want. As a matter of fact, I DO NOT WANT THIS. But here I am, stuck with something that is being romanticized and is being worshipped. To the point where people ask if you’re faking it. Depression causes so much pain. Everyone has their own way of trying to fix the one thing that is there for life. Myself, I would cut myself to try and ease the pain and the numbness I would feel. I always tried to find the way to fix myself, but I realized I was hurting the people around me. I tried getting help, but I found out a really hard way that sometimes you need to find your own way out of this deep, dark pit of constant darkness. When getting help, I was technically a “lab rat.” I tried mass amounts of pills, which made me feel as if I was the zombies from horror movies that I use to fear. I have been in counseling, which didn’t help until I found a therapist who made me feel as if I actually mattered. But I was switched to a new therapist. Which brought me back on a downward spiral. I am still searching for my happiness, but I still have not found it. I know I’ll eventually get there. I still have many sleepless, year filled nights, where I’m grasping into my pillow screaming how I do not matter. Maybe I do matter, but I still haven’t realized that I should matter to myself before anyone else. I know people say that you need to love yourself, but they forgot to mention how hard it actually is to love yourself. But I am here to tell you, that YOU are not alone. There are people out there like you. Because, I, am just like you. If you feel like you want to get help, or if you feel like you need help, please do get help. Reach out, that way you are safe. Because, dear readers, YOU DO MATTER!
Kaylee PauleyPublished 6 years ago in PsycheMy Darkness
The scratch of a single pen on paper was the only audible noise in the cold, dimly lit room, save for my slow and shallow breaths. As I completed the poem and read it through once more, I discovered how beautifully sad it was. The black ink seemed cry out in pain and despair. Though, that had not been my intention; my intention has always been to be happy. At the very moment I stared at the sorrowful words scrawled across the page, it became clear to me what was true. The suffocating and relentless sadness that silently engulfed me every day could not remain quiet any longer. I finally gave into what I had feared the most; I was depressed.
Tiffany WilePublished 6 years ago in PsycheDepression Is Not A Choice
Depression is not a choice. Have you ever had someone tell you you're crazy? Or make you feel crazy for feelings that are beyond your control? Or maybe you've had someone judge you or tell you it's all in your head. You're making it up. It's a just a phase. You're not alone.
Destyni SchmuckalPublished 6 years ago in PsycheMy Nineteen Years on Earth
Exactly six months ago I attempted, at the age of eighteen, to write my own book titled My Eighteen Years on Earth. I got half way through one chapter before I hit writer's block, and ultimately, gave up on my depressing novel. Since then I have regained the spark in which I had that first day I began my novel, and have decided to attempt my second try at a less depressing, but awfully truthful blog on how it is to live with depression starting from such a young age, and of course the usual teenage dramas.
Denilia BluePublished 6 years ago in PsycheI've Been Quiet
Depression: Feelings of severe despondency and dejection. Despondency: A state of low spirits caused by loss of hope or courage
Savanna BarnesPublished 6 years ago in PsycheIt Gets Better
Ever feel like nobody can relate to you? Like you're alone in this world? Like nothing you do matters? Feel as if the whole world hates you? And makes everything harder specifically for you? If so... you're not alone.
What Living with Depression and Anxiety Is Really Like
Imagine waking up every day with your first thought always being, "What kind of day am I going to have today?" The Anxiety Filter
Myles BowmanPublished 6 years ago in PsychePostPartum Depression
This is my experience with Postpartum Depression. Growing up I had two completely different influences in my life, my mom and my dad. My dad was all about what he interpreted from the bible and nothing else. My mom was also a believer but interpreted the bible different and felt that she was supposed to change with the world. When it came to things like depression, they were polar opposites which I feel made this experience even worse for me. My dad was completely anti depression, he felt there was no such thing. My mom is very open with her own battle with it. With the combination of both of these views made it extremely confusing for myself.
Depression
Living with depression is hard to portray to someone who is lucky enough to not suffer from this mental illness, or any kind of mental illness. I like to think of myself as a good writer but even now I am struggling to find the words to give even the slightest insight. On the worst of days, living with depression is not living. Mental illness is something widely and commonly misunderstood. Of course, mental illness differs and there are various types of it, all of which are life altering, but I will focus on depression as it is the most common and something from which I suffer myself. The idea that something inside my head is not right, not only terrifies me, but deeply saddens me. I often think: why me? What is it about my head and my brain that is different from that of a normal happy person? Well, I think that I know the cause. I believe the root of my depression stems from losing my dad when I was age 15, but there are many other factors. Some people have no specific cause or trauma that triggers it, it just happens. Either way, I have to live with it. And so do many others. To think that a chemical imbalance in my brain has had such an impact in my life, more so than real people and real interactions. It is all in my head and I always think to myself ‘why can’t you just be ok.' There is so much in my life I have to be grateful for, but it’s almost as if it is just out of my reach. It is as if I am looking at my own life through a glass screen. I’m not in control. Sometimes it is easier to stay in bed. There is a sort of safety about that, something I can’t explain.
Rebecca CorbettPublished 6 years ago in Psyche