depression

It is not just a matter of feeling sad; discover an honest view of the mental, emotional and physical toll of clinical depression.

An Ode to Misery
My mind can be a very confusing place, but pain must have some kind of purpose. At least i hope it does. What that purpose is, I'm not confident of the answer, but maybe this will serve me as some kind of beacon, a way to airlift myself from my misery and find a state of mind that serves me better than hopelessness. This is an ode to the heartbreak, an out pour of affection to the wallowing, and perhaps a nail in the coffin of my suffering. When I look back on my life, I see it as narrated script broken into chapters, some parts so different to the others it's hard to believe it was me there for all of them. Ive theorised that we all feel like this, like we've lived past lives while in this one. You remember yourself going through the motions of your experiences and often you don't even recognise yourself. When you have depression, from the moment you open your eyes, you wish didn't. You don't want the world to exist! The people in it, the places, you don't want to exist. Everything just becomes a black hole of misery and you become a mere shadow of who you thought you were. An elusive person who only makes appearances in drunken or disassociated states. You can feel that you're still there, somewhere inside your black heart, you know the real you, the person you know yourself as is in there, but it's like you went for a walk outside your own body and locked yourself out trying to get back in. You feel like your drowning, like a black lethal gas is filling your lungs suffocating you, pinning you to the ground with its weight. So heavy. You try to take a breath, but that breath is harder than the last, and the next one even worse. The emptiness, isolation, misery, the sombre music that you listen to over and over and over slowly sends you mad.
By Mel Nicolosi6 years ago in Psyche
I Finally Healed From Depression
Happy people are all alike, and unhappy people unhappy in their own ways. Some people grew up ignorant and thought-free, and some grew up depressive. It was 2009, when my friends asked me what happened, and I cannot believe it myself that I admitted, I'm depressive. It is not only me, but many people cannot ease the burden easily. When an accumulation of simple event caused discomfort, it feels like life hits me hard. Then unpleasant emotions (fear, dissapoinment, shame, grief, despair) dominating, our mind freaks out and rises out dark thoughts about what's been happened leads to what's gonna happen. It is like an pop-up adds when we cannot close the window and we simply cannot control them. The mind doesn't stop there, it thinks about an escape. An escape from the truth: gulping ISSR, alcohol, religion extrimism, sex, shopping, harm someone, and even suicide, as Nietzsche said 'letting the death enter freely'.
By Yulia Ratnasari6 years ago in Psyche
ENFJ's Sometimes Struggle with Depression
1. They tend to be chronic people pleasers. Ask anyone who is an ENFJ personality type and they will admit that they are naturally prone to being people pleasers. It is difficult because ENFJ's have extroverted feeling as their primary cognitive function, therefore they are already very focused on other people's emotional states. ENFJ's desire that those around them are cared for and happy. They want their friends, family members, and co-workers to be as happy has humanly possible. However, it is most certainly not realistic for everyone to always be happy and blowing rainbows at one another, right? ENFJ's will eventually learn that they cannot please everyone, however if they are found to be stuck in the mental mess of pleasing people, then it will lead to them becoming depressed and overwhelmed mentally. In order for ENFJ's to maintain mental stability, they should strive to focus on their own self-care instead of worrying about everyone else's quite as much.
By Rowan Finley 6 years ago in Psyche
The Day I Killed Myself
The Day I Killed Myself On the morning of the day I killed myself, I awoke as I usually did – late, tired, and wishing I could just stay in bed all day. With that all too familiar weight creeping onto my chest, I slowly began battling my subconscious thoughts that all screamed at me to keep my eyes shut and block out the beeping of my alarm (the third in the last fifteen minutes), the beginning of my stressful and emotional version of a morning routine. By the fifth alarm, I realize the time, somehow a shock each day, and bolt from the covers. By the sixth, the one set to remind me I should be leaving, I’m dressed in clothes I pulled out of several piles on my floor, each article selected based on smell rather than appearance. The seventh alarm goes off as I struggle to find a second sock and throw my unwashed hair into a semi-acceptable bun before the eighth and final alarm blares. It tells me I’m going to need to call work because I’ll be late, again. My brothers have left for school, indicating the severity of my lateness, but my dad is still in the kitchen. He calls a goodbye to me as I rush past him, teeth unbrushed and meds ignored, to the door and leave with nine minutes to get to my weekly therapy appointment before work, a good thirty minutes away.
By Miranda Jaensch6 years ago in Psyche
Depression, the Secret We Share
Thankfully, my dedicated addiction to Pinterest has given me ample substance for helping both myself and those in need. If you haven't yet searched through TED Talks, you need to. I not only use them for my own knowledge and well being, I use them within my personal training and lifestyle coaching communities, and within my personal circles. Take a moment to check out this great post from Sarah Rose Coaching.
By Jillian Diane6 years ago in Psyche
Depression Sucks
People that have depression such as myself have our good days and our bad. Do we tell others? No, well I know I don't. I keep it to myself, I don't want others to see anything but my happy cheerful self. I don't want to speak the existence of the depression. I thought that maybe if I hide it good enough it would go away, but it doesn't.
By Sara Bevins6 years ago in Psyche
Insanity
Madness creeps up your spine. You never really expect it despite all the years it spent taking root in you. It uses its resources to grow and prosper like a well oiled machine until it doesn't.
By Caitlin Halladay6 years ago in Psyche
THE SUBTLE SHADOW
Life can be a bind, don't you think? Round and round we go with our little lives. One massive pulsating algorithm that never lets us stray from the path. Ephemeral and fleeting we traverse the years with only one way of getting off the merry go round. Death.
By Dom Watson 6 years ago in Psyche
Sickening Nostalgia
As I sit in his office, Dr. K. I begin to think of the bullshit that got me here. Almost every time I come to these exhausting appointments, I break down. Getting help never hurt so much. The innocence taken from me, starting when I was young, could never be given back. Boys with their clammy, but still soft hands because they aren’t even old enough to truly sit before a judge on their own and not old enough for their hands to gain callus from working so hard, but old enough to know that touching little girls is... gross. I tell myself I forgive them. But is it true? Is it possible to really forgive boys who took this much from you to where when you walk in an office that society thinks is for crazy people YOU even get stared down. Bitch yes, I’m crazy. But so are you so look away from me before I use the anger that has boiled in me from tragedies like these. Tragedies that make me start to tear up to even be looked at for longer than a glimpse because I can’t fucking stand someone thinking that they have power over my body again. Tragedies that have made me this paranoid. But still, I get up, I go to work, and I make my living. My parents always fussed at me for half- assing things but what else can you do on mornings when you’ve spent the night fighting off those flashbacks that you have yet to get used to after an entire decade and longer? Sometimes, half- assing is all I have the power to do. My obsessive compulsive disorder says brushing your teeth just long enough for you to have the ability to look at the very person you are absolutely disgusted with. My obsessive compulsive disorder screams that it is not long enough to brush my teeth as long as I can stand to see my own wreckage. But my depression... see, she’s something serious. Somehow, she has that optimistic side when it comes to brushing my teeth. She comforts me, “at least you don’t have morning breath anymore. Tastes a little mintier baby girl.” She has a way of comforting me when I know I cannot put forward much. She has a good way of telling me that at least I did a little. She is the definition of manipulation. She will reel you in making you TRY the positive outlook thing, and then she’ll giggle with Anxiety, and wreck your whole fuckin day. Well... is it depression or the optimistic little girl that was never able to rise up? Does she still want to think happy thoughts to get her out of this abyss? She was so honest and gentle and sweet. By middle school, she became the kid that had to do mandatory anger management counseling. The anger harbored in her... in me, and took control. To this day, that sweet, innocent girl is still there, who has learned how to tame the anger a little more, and continues to stay honest and true. She... I mean.. I, I love endlessly. So I think it is true. I think I have forgiven them. But I have not, and never will, forget them. Forgiveness, for me, was personal. Those boys have not been seen since before I hit double digits, so what would they even gain from MY forgiveness? It was and still is, all for me. I forgive them so that I can forgive myself because in this mentality bestowed upon me... I blame myself. This is reality. No matter how many people say it’s not my fault or I could not control it, my mind will tell me that somehow my young, tiny, weak body could have done more. And I know, if the world ended today...it would be my fault.
By Sweet Mk 6 years ago in Psyche
The Suicide
Chapter 1 Joe was going crazy at home, he was having anxiety all day to the point where he had to leave the house and walk to clear his head. Only twenty-four years old and he was already losing his mind. It was 12am on a Saturday so he was going to walk to the bar three miles from his house to the city where he liked to sit and watch people. He’d sit around at the park, chain smoking, looking at all the tourist, locals, and city workers all walk by and sonder. Where do all these people go after work, after the night is over, do they like their jobs? Do they have secrets I cannot see? All these thoughts and questions would wash over him like a tsunami to the point where he would forget what he was worrying about, what was causing his own anxiety.
By Charles Wood6 years ago in Psyche
This Is How I Know Depression Is Back
It happens from time to time. On occasions, it kind of makes sense: something terrible has happened, or I’m under a lot of stress. However, other times it just happens that I find myself in the middle of a depressive episode. Just like that.
By GB Rogut6 years ago in Psyche
How can you think about your own depression or sadness?
I’m not a psychologist, but this is an attempt to analyze and apply neurology to depression. Although it might seem to be an apathetic approach, I think it’s better in the long run to work with what we can work with instead of pretending we can help or make attempts that don’t seem to be working. We can try, but logic and analysis make up the backbone to the chaotic sea of emotions.
By M C6 years ago in Psyche