The Depressionist Letters and Poetics: On Depression
Posted on March 8, 2010 with 0 commentsBlogging is strange. I suspect that no one really reads my blogs but at the same time I can wonder if people stumble upon them, accidentally, and maybe have a good laugh. Rather, they would have a good life if I wasn't a depressionist, writing my way out of the patterns of depression.
I haven't been taking my medication for a couple of days. This is an awful thing to do because I know, every time, that I will end up in a sorry state. But I have trying to save the medicine skipping a day here and two days there because I am worried about being able to afford more. It isn't that expensive here in Norway as the socialist minded government believes in making things available for people. However, my husband and I going through a rough time, having just moved to a new location. It doesn't help that I cannot get job because I don't speak the language well enough. That will all come in due time I suppose. I shouldn't have stopped taking the medicine but each time I do I realize more and more that depression is a disorder. Depression is a mental disorder and no matter how much I or anyone else would like to believe that at the route of it, I am really in control it and can stop if only I 'wanted to', the truth is that I am not and cannot.
I have heard the debates about using medicine from people with spiritual points of view, who say that sickness is an 'energy' and that we can harness this energy (I used to fall into this group), to others who say things like, "well, I get depressed, I've had a tough life, but I go on living without making my problems other people's problems or letting it rule my life." So many people view depression as a state of emotion and a choice. I believed this all myself for a long, long time. I have been struggling with depression since my teen and perhaps earlier. It worsened after I had a cardiac arrest in 1999. And I still deal with it, over and over again. This is not a choice. Yes it's in my head, it's all in my head but that doesn't make it any easier to live with. Everyone who is close to me has to live with it. That puts an unsolicited and a surprise weight on the depressionist. It is an extra reason to feel the need to punish oneself; an extra desire relieve the world of my weightedness.
I hope that last remark doesn't scare anyone, though it does frighten me. I have plenty of will to live but I do feel heavy tonight. I know this feeling will pass and I will go on; I know that I have increadible people in my life; I know that I give plenty to the world; my ability to feel all of that is simply hindered at this time. I always have words to turn me around.
Thanks for listening