hyperboleandahalf - ally and depression part II

Depression Part 2 at Hyperboleandahalf - an illustrated guide to depression. Possibly the most hilarious, most painful, most metaphorical, most literal, most everything description of depression I've read in--ever. With awesome illustrations.

Most of still live with the knowledge that there are great swathes of the population--we'll call them 'idiots'--who at some point decided the depression in it's entirety can be expressed as 'not happy' and also, that it's something that can be cured with bootstrap puppy macros on the bright side of it's a wonderful life. I don't call people idiots for not understanding depression--frankly, I've lived with it over half my life, and I'm still fairly unclear on what the ever-loving fuck is going on--but I get tetchy on the subject when they believe 'understand' is a required prerequisite for 'believe', because I personally didn't sign up to be the professor failing to teach 101 adequately and then worry how they'll survive when they stop believing in air, as they seem to think 'believe' is a key facet in the existence of reality.

For everyone else, however, there's this post; if you don't understand depression, if it's still hard to get your head around, if you have family or friends who live with it, if you just want to know--this might help. Depression is vast and individualized and no two people who have it will conceptualize or experience it the same way. However, I've noticed that no matter how differently people describe depression, they're always right, possibly because for me, they all say the same thing--that depression is less a thing that's there, but a word that encompasses the vastness of absence, knowing perfectly well the scope of what should be there and no longer is, and realizing you'll have to wait forever while living without it. It can be weeks or years or a matter of months, or so the calenders say, but while you're waiting, it's always forever.

Comments

[blueraccoon]

I always described my worst depressive phase as a desert. I wasn't sure how I'd gotten in there but I couldn't see a way out and no matter what direction I tried there was just nothing there. I didn't feel sad, I just didn't feel. I had no motivation, no interest in anything, nothing. It was so, so hard to get out. I never got to the point of suicidal ideation, but for a while I was kind of a ghost, just drifting through life.

[seperis]

*nods* My current best comparison after reading is like living during trench warfare with no actual war going on. Nothing is happening, you're stuck there, and you can't get out because there's nothing else but trenches to go to. And the boring part was so spot-on it was unnerving as hell. It's hard to get that across, that the boringness of it was in its own way both symptom and problem in itself; interest in something, anything is toxic water in the desert. I get why people get into suicide ideation even when they aren't necessarily suicidal; it's something new in a world that's nothing but the sameness. I mean, there was a reason I was a cutter and why I'm not exactly ungrateful that I ended up going that direction; the destructive tendency of obsession with something that I didn't want to kill me was--and this is just me--so much less dangerous than many, many of the other ways I could have tried to deal.

TMI on that, probably. Her entry brought up thoughts in a good way about my feelings about depression.

[blueraccoon]

No worries on TMI, honestly. I was a cutter--sort of--in HS and a bit of college, and mostly I did it because for reasons which don't need exploring at this juncture, I was trying really hard to clamp down on all negative emotions. I was *also* being bullied at school, dealing with a brother taking up most of my parents' time and energy, and depressive with anxiety problems that hadn't been identified and weren't being treated yet. So there was a lot of shit going on, and I cut myself because physical pain and physical marks made the emotional shit go away for a while. Or I would pick at my skin and scratch myself until I broke hte skin.

I haven't done that in a long, long time, but I have a friend who's SI at the moment and I just don't know what to say to her because I know how good it can feel when you're in the desert, or in trench warfare. Looking outside I know how awful it is, but I don't know how to help her find better coping mechanisms (she's also in an emotionally abusive relationship at the moment that I'm pleading with her to leave, but she won't). Now should apologize for TMI.

[seperis]

I know the feeling, and the worst part of depression is sometimes the fact that knowing what somene else is going through is so minimally helpful because dealing is so individualized. If it helps at all, in your position, I'd be doing the same thing; offering support and guidance and being ready to help and offer other devices to cope when she can move away from this one. Very personally, cutting for me stopped the moment I didn't need it; it was only enjoyable when it did it's job and it was pointless when I was in a place where things less destructive got me the same results with less--work, let's put it that way. Oddly enough, and again, for me, looking at the scars something now helps. I've never minded having them or the reason for it.

[blueraccoon]

I used to rub one of the more prominent scars--right hand below base of thumb is the main one--which helped, but most of mine have faded so much I can't find them anymore, which I'm okay with. I stopped because someone almost saw the cuts, and I almost got found out by my parents, and I decided getting caught was a worse fate than actually cutting because it meant people might be worried about me, so I stopped, and then I just never went back to it. I found other ways to be self-destructive.

[glittertine]

Unfortunately I have found that no matter where I point people - I have given up on trying to explain depression, I am not that good with words - some people just do not have the capacity to understand it. Maybe that's wrong, maybe they're not trying hard enough, and maybe they are idiots for not trying harder. But I think for some people, it *is* impossible to even imagine the pits of numb, eternal despair. I'm trying to be glad for that, because at least that means *they* can be happy, and that's always a good thing.

But yeah, hoodie-wearing Allie flopping on the couch? THAT.

[seperis]

I can get not understanding depression--my vague grasp of disorganized thoughts that characterize schizophrenia is basically entirely formed from my memories of being on LSD, believe it or not, which is nothing like it but at least is something I can grasp onto when your mind just isn't working like other people's--but not people who require that for acceptance that it exists. I doubt they grasp nuclear physics or ever seen with their own eyes a nuclear explosion, but they believe nuclear energy exists, so--it's kind of beyond me.

I'm trying to be glad for that, because at least that means *they* can be happy, and that's always a good thing.

You are a better person than me. *g*

But yeah, hoodie-wearing Allie flopping on the couch? THAT.

Weirdly like staring into an animated still-life mirror, yeah.

[akacat]

The dead fish are brilliant. I want every mental healthcare worker to read and really try to understand about the dead fish.

I may have found the comic where she defaults to offering someone juice funnier than it actually is. (It's funny because it's true.)

[seperis]

*G* The fish and the juice were brilliant.

[nagasvoice]

Than you for the link and the understanding behind it.
Some of the phrases I've heard people say in this state of depression sound more like a zen master from a different state of reality. While I try to avoid being Sally Happy Butterfly at them to over-compensate or something, there's not a lot I can say or do that might help. "Yes, they were lovely fish when they were alive," isn't a terribly useful thing for me to say.
I do love that Allie makes sense of it even to somebody like me who only has a fuzzy idea of what the full-on deal is like--and that's bad enough, thank you, would not wish that on my worst enemy.
When confronted with zen-like mysteries coming from a friend who was suicidal, or sounded like it, I would have been glad for any insight into how they were thinking.

[seperis]

I hope it helps. Depression really is impossible to explain--it's kind of like phoning in descriptions from a different world, with the added bonus that the person describing is in no shape for adequate communication, and once you're out of it--I don't say you forget it, but it's not the same as being there.

While I try to avoid being Sally Happy Butterfly at them to over-compensate or something, there's not a lot I can say or do that might help. "Yes, they were lovely fish when they were alive," isn't a terribly useful thing for me to say.

Honestly--and this is just me--that was never a problem. In one sense, I didn't particularly care about anyone else's emotional state, but not in a selfish sense but in an inability to entirely see it; on a completely different level, it wasn't necessarily a bad thing to have around at all when I could see it, because it was a fairly effective reminder that there was better somewhere. I don't know a better way to say that. I think the difference is that people who felt threatened by or personally offended I wasn't sharing their joy in life were those I avoided. People wanting you to be happy isn't unnatural; people who make you feel deathly responsible for lessening theirs if you don't shape up are. Trust mee, there's a difference, and I'm goign to go out on a limb and say you didn't do the second.

*send you hugs*

[nagasvoice]

(((hugs))) back, and thank you. As everyone notes, coping is so individual. I was lucky that my depressed friend was so articulate, I could get some idea how to avoid making it even worse for them.

[parhelion]

Although I can't personally confirm the obviously on-target nature of some of the depressive material, I have to say I thought the panels that describe having, and having to talk about, suicidal ideation were brilliant.

There really is this odd disjunction when you have a conversation that feels to you as if you said "So, I was considering eating a banana with taco sauce but decided that wasn't the best of ideas," and everyone responds, "Banana! Nooo! TACO SAUCE! *sob*" that she captures very well. First person I've read who got that, in fact.

[seperis]

*grins* I loved loved loved that fish thing.