“That’s the thing about depression: A human being can survive almost anything, as long as she sees the end in sight. But depression is so insidious, and it compounds daily, that it’s impossible to ever see the end.” — Elizabeth Wurtzel, Prozac Nation
Well, it’s been a while. I last posted on February 29 with a post ironically titled, “My Ancient Virus,” about the memoir, In the Dream House, by Carmen Maria Machado, and not the COVID virus we’re all burdened with now, a virus that basically kept me distant from my own dark thoughts. “Everyone is in the abyss,” I think. “You’re no exception. Chin up. We don’t need anymore darkness.”
But more has come. Racial injustice. Economic devastation. Horrific wildfires. A President who continues to lie and stoke violence. A person struggling with serious depression can only take so much.
Ever wonder what depression looks like? Here’s a picture Adrienne took of me in Spring 2013. I had no idea that I looked like this:
Here is what I wrote about depression back then and how I am feeling this very minute. Depression never really goes away. You learn to live with it and when to shut up about it.
To be depressed is not to have words to describe it; it’s not to have words at all but to live in the gray world of the inarticulate, where nothing takes shape, nothing has edges, nothing has clarity . . . I am baffled by and ashamed of my passivity and the flatness of my imagination. I covet your prayers that things will get better. The only prayer I’ve been able to say lately is from Flannery O’Connor’s just published prayer journal: “Give me the courage to stand the pain to get to the grace, Oh Lord. Help me with this life that seems so treacherous, so disappointing.”
We’re all living in my gray world now. It’s exhausting, isn’t it?
Thank you for sharing this. It IS exhausting, yes. I see you and I love your willingness to open up and put your experience into relatable and thoughtful words.
Thanks, Kelly. I am writing this from my bed where I vowed not to get up until I turn 70, if I’m fortunate enough to live to qualify for full Social Security. Of course, I’ll get up in a few hours like I always do, but I don’t want to. Our world is gray, but even more gray after you shut your eyes and wake up again.
Not sure how mentally healthy this us, but on my iPad, I’ve been watching over and over all the “Golden Buzzer” auditions on “Britain’s Got Talent” and “America’s Got Talent,” since the year 1832. Well, since 2014. Over and over again, I watch them, waiting for that Golden Buzzer moment, when that kid’s world turns brilliantly gold however momentarily and back stage, the parents beam with pride just as brilliantly. I know it’s all fantasy. All made up. All a hoax. But, hey, whatever gets you through the darkness.
You have articulated so powerfully the inarticulateness of your specific depression & of the depression we are all sharing right now, where nothing has clarity. As a woman who lives with a different “invisible” illness that often leaves me baffled & ashamed, I thank you speaking out & helping me and all of us to sift through our vagueness with the hope of finding the courage we need for that one next step…and then the next.
Carol — my latest fall into the abyss of depression is fueled in part by the latest Woodward revelations. On top of being depressed, I’m scared shitless that no one seems to be able to control the monster in the Oval Office.
A tip: when the country is going to hell, do not go to your attic and go through things that represent your life and decide to pitch about 93% of them. Ten huge industrial-strength trash bags are sitting outside my home. Tomorrow they will be tossed into a garbage truck to be hauled away. I don’t care what anyone says. I do not feel “unburdened” or “freed.” About half of what I pitched is shit representing accomplishments my parents never acknowledged. They’ve never been in any of my homes and now most of what they could have seen is in the garbage.
Fuck this shit.
I’ve read your post several times throughout the day struggling to find inspiring words. A long time ago, I read a quote by Winston Churchill, “If you’re going through hell, keep going.” May be simplistic, but it stuck with me more than any self-help book I had read. And, I’ve read too many. Another quote that has stuck with me for a very long time is something Mrs. Rose, my 7th grade Reading teacher wrote in my yearbook, “Don’t wait for your ship to come in, row out to meet it.” I don’t read fancy books or know poetry, so these quotes may seem like empty words. They have encouraged me during my battle with depression. I hope you’ll continue to reach out to what inspires you, grab it tightly and never let go. 💜💜💜
So sorry that I missed seeing this post until now. It was waiting quietly in my spam folder until I went to empty it today. Mind you, this was the only NOT spam in that folder and the ONLY bit of brilliance. One thing I can tell you for sure is that your post does not reflect either passivity or flatness of imagination. You had to put together the image, the quotes and the words. It took thought and effort and you did it. Give yourself the credit that is due.
I cannot begin to know what you are feeling and won’t pretend to, but I know that even some of my cheerier friends are feeling bleak, so if you usually live in a grey world, I can only imagine that it is pretty pitch dark for you now. I’m sorry.
On Thursday night, I met by Zoom with a group of women friends. One woman declared her lifelong cup half-full optimism and admonished us that we must have love and hope to get through this time. Another friend spoke up immediately saying, “I have NO hope. My cup is EMPTY.” Fortunately, no one tried to make it better for her. No one could. Sometimes we can only bear witness to the suffering, which I guess is what I am doing here.
In regard to pitching your “accomplishments,” you can never really do that can you? I suspect that you pitched the evidence or souvenirs of them. You ARE your accomplishments — a lifetime of brilliance and I’m sure that it is devastating that your parents have not ever seen who YOU really are. I am sad that you cannot see the light you give off to the world as I do.
It seems that those bags of stuff make you suffer whether they are in the attic or the trash. I’ve been electing more and more to put stuff in the recycle bin and the dump. It feels better to me than losing weight, to pitch 50 lbs. of psychic crap and not have to carry it with me one more day in this life. I no longer ask permission (Would my partner or kids want it? Should I save my journals for posterity, or as evidence of my writing life?) Nope. No one else should have to spend one moment of their precious life to go through more of my stuff than they will inevitable have to, just because I couldn’t let it go.
Also, getting rid of so much of your stuff does not reflect passivity. It is hard work and you must be both depressed and exhausted. Please, take good care, my friend. I am sorry that I did not see this sooner, but I’m glad that I found it today. Sending you love. Always.
Beth, this is such a thoughtful response, and I appreciate the time you invested to draft and send it. During this latest depressive episode of mine, I’ve often thought of the “Yoga Lady,” but not in derision. Only because I missed you and thought I could use a good dose of optimism. You’re right, so few of us have any these days.
I am feeling a bit better — sunrises help. But I have more stuff to pitch. I’ll try to see it more as an act of freeing myself from the burdens of the past.
I read the following poem on the Writer’s Almanac on September 9. I think it gets at what you’ve shared here.
IX
by Wendell Berry
I go by a field where once
I cultivated a few poor crops.
It is now covered with young trees,
for the forest that belongs here
has come back and reclaimed its own.
And I think of all the effort
I have wasted and all the time,
and of how much joy I took
in that failed work and how much
it taught me. For in so failing
I learned something of my place,
something of myself, and now
I welcome back the trees.
Oh, WOW! Thank you, my friend, for Wendell Berry’s wisdom. I feel I am “failing” at MANY things lately and now will try to see it as learning something of my place and try to discern what it is that I am welcoming back.
Love you so much.❤️❤️