Sunday, May 4, 2008

depression is...

...slogging through glue only to find i have arrived at a bleak, colorless place that is no different from the place i left...and the fact that i've been here before is no help...there is no map to help me find my way out...and if others have left tracks here, they've long since sunk back into the mire...

...a muffling wall of thick, heavy air surrounding me. i can see out, but nothing can get through...not light, not sound, not emotion, and to fight my way through it requires far more energy than i can ever remember having.

...like something has sucked all the joy from me and replaced it with numb indifference.

...an absence. an emptiness. a lack of life, of energy, of purpose, of light.

...an inability to decide the simplest things...can't decide what to eat...not because i don't know what i want, but because i lack the will, the volition, the energy, to even make a decision. any decision. it is too much to ask of me right now.

...slow motion. move through glue. think through glue. breathe through glue. feel nothing.

...wanting to cry but not even having the energy for that.

Sorry, Mum. A nice hot cup of tea just doesn't cut it...

8 comments:

BPD in OKC said...

Wouldn't it be nice if a cup of tea would solve all your problems? Of course, I can't stand tea, so I'd still be f*cked. LOL

I never thought about depression being like "slogging through glue" but that definitely describes it well.

Jazz said...

yeah.
*slog...slog...slog...*

Gianna said...

you know my mom is Italian and she still pushes the tea thing...

what is up with that??

Jazz said...

I suspect it's a European thing...Mum pushes the tea, and Dad pushes the "stiff upper lip" line. Neither of which is incredibly helpful...

Shiv said...

A brilliant description there!
"think through glue" so so true!

~Shiv

Jazz said...

I think it helps to know that other people experience it the same way. That's somehow validating.

Coco said...

*slog...slog...slog...* perfect! I like one of Kay Redfield James' descriptions too:

"Sometimes you get blank, void. Everything around you is hollow. You move through a fog. Pain surfaces occasionally. Then fades as you fade. You sense great agonies. Watch an empty road. No-one comes. You long for night, for sleep. When the dark comes, parts of you light up, then fade. You have no will, no agency, no purpose. Nothing will touch you. Your eyes are painted circles, your skin is made of wood. The others are dolls and puppets who visit your grave to shed solid tears"

Jazz said...

I may not agree with all of what Kay Jamison says, but she does write beautifully. "An Unquiet Mind" remains one of my favorite books of all time.