For Anyone Who Has Said They Feel Depressed

Source: Daniele Levis Pelusi / Unsplash

You’ve probably said it: "I feel depressed." It’s a quip that’s thrown around a lot. But clinically diagnosed depression is not like I'm depressed today depression; it's nothing like the approximately 280 million people¹ who live with clinical depression. The word is the same, but the animal is completely different. Its bite is more lethal.

Does your depression pass in a few days? Mine doesn’t. Does your mood lift when you get some exercise? Mine doesn’t. Do you wake up feeling yourself again after a few good sleeps? Mine doesn’t.

This isn’t meant as a rant, a diatribe, or a scolding – it’s a clarification. A validation. For those of us who feel the quotidian use of the word depression minimizes our experience of actual clinical depression. I’m not saying don’t use the word in casual conversation, just be aware of what real depression is.

Big D and little d

I delineate them by case: Big D Depression (the clinical kind) and little d depression (the passing mood kind). I’d say all of us experience little d depression sometime in our lives. Not necessarily so for Big D.

When I have enough support and experience, when I’m able to see my warning signs early enough, when I’m using my self-management tools consistently, when I take the right dose of the right combination of the right medication, my Big D depression can be managed well, very well. I am happy to report the Big D's are now few and far between. But before that, not so much.

Big D Depression, clinical depression, the psychiatric disorder, is not a few bad days, the blues, or feeling down. It’s not a mood that passes and evaporates over the course of a couple of days. It’s not something that a brisk walk, a good night’s rest, and leafy greens will take care of.

It’s a wholly overwhelming, full-body, amnesia-inducing, convincing me this is a will-never-end kind of experience. Welcome to clinical depression.

Welcome to Clinical Depression

It’s unpredictable in its intensity and expiry date. That’s what makes it formidable. The nature of depression is to disorient, paralyze, and dupe. Its nasty voice is as persuasive as a top legal team arguing a history-making lawsuit.

Yes, there are gradations of depression, from mild to moderate to severe, chronic and situational. But none of them is a cakewalk.

On a side note, well-intentioned as you might be, you may ask, "Hey, have you tried…’" I will answer in a clipped tone with curled lips, it’s because that yes, yes, and yes, I have! I, along with many others who navigate this twisted terrain, have tried strategies from the most traditional to the most unusual.

In the midst of my most severe depressions, it tells me: ‘You think this one will pass? That you can do something that will help? Don’t bother. This one is taking you down. I promise.’ See what I mean? Nasty.

Once it has my attention, it moves from obnoxious attorneys to a warped, charismatic cult leader. The brainwashing begins. Peddling fake news and showing me false evidence: I hold no value, I’m irrelevant, helpless, and ultimately, I should give up because I'm just. Don’t. Matter.' Every mistake I make is proof that I am the mistake. No one texts me? I’m taking up space and don’t deserve to be here. A neighbour doesn’t wave back? I’m caustic company.

Big D feeds me a numbing concoction of neurochemicals where sleep exhausts instead of rejuvenates. The more I sleep, the more I need it, and the more I sleep, the worse I feel.

Focus is levelled. Connections are severed. Bathing is emotional. Texting is painful. These are my invisible insides. Dishes pile up along with laundry. Half-empty coffee cups decorate the windowsill, and Kit Kat wrappers litter the carpet. I slap a glistening smile on my face. A cheerful demeanor is less shameful than admitting out loud how much I hate myself.

And there’s no respite from the rumination. ‘I’m worthless. I’m stupid. It’s pointless. I’m worthless. I’m stupid. It’s pointless.’

If successful in its mission, Big D will convert me into a full-blown follower, and I will be under its spell, believing nothing will change and that things would be better if I didn't exist. Like carbon monoxide, it slowly seeps into my system, killing my spirit and eventually me.

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I ask again: Is that what you mean when you say you’re depressed?

Don’t Believe Big D Depression: You Are Worthy

If it is, please don’t believe what Big D Depression tells you. It’s a liar. Trust me, not your thoughts. Depression has hijacked your brain. You are worthwhile. You are smart. And it isn’t pointless. Stay the course. You can come out of this. I can’t say when, but I know you can. And please, if you haven’t already, reach out for help.

For those of you who have never come face-to-face with the Big D, slept in the same bed, or drank from the same cup, are we on the same page now? If you casually say 'I feel depressed', do you know which depression you mean?

If you don’t, I’m happy to help you figure it out. I always hope it’s little D.

© Victoria Maxwell