On Depression

While I'm pretty sure I have never been depressed, taking the clinical usage of the word(I've thought about it, have had to think about it, have been very confused by it, and I'm almost completely certain), but I've suffered from the effects of depression for the most part of my life. Some of my oldest and most defined memories concern it, and I can say confidently that it has played a huge part in shaping the person who I have become.

People who have never experienced depression hands on can only assume it is an awful thing, and in one way they're completely spot on: it throws your whole perspective on life and relationships into confusion, puts unbelievable stress on any individual who has depression or knows someone who does, can be enraging at times, and tests you to your very limits of patience and understanding. It is terribly painful to face, the main reason why it is not spoken about publicly: some go so far as to say it is stigmatising (they're right).

I'd be willing to wager I have more understanding of, or at least have given more thought to depression than, say, most people in my year would have, but of course you can never really know what's going on behind closed doors, and so maybe we're all dealing with it, in one way or another. But why can't we know about it? Why can't it be discussed? It's extremely relevant in society today, figures will tell you, and the devastating effects that it can have should arguably provoke some public debate. What's with the big cover up people?

People don't mind talking about cancer do they? or diabetes?  'Manic depression' is now a recognised illness, and is treated by trained medical professionals where appropriate. So why all the taboo? The very existence of something as innately dangerous and threatening as depression is a big factor. The fact that it occurs at all raises serious questions about our understanding of human life, and the idea of the success of the western world (don't even get me started) - shouldn't we all be happy now? The idea that a naturally occurring tendency can become even more powerful than our need to procreate forces us to raise questions about any understanding of the meaning of life we might have within ourselves, something many people would rather just avoid, even when doing this comes at a horrible price.

I have half a mind that depression is not an 'illness' at all, it's just that to define it as one is so much more convenient than asking the questions that would crop up if that were untrue; after all, the fact that people who are medicated for depression experience even worse bouts of mania every time they go off the drugs suggests that we're not really treating it at all. I think it's not treatable; because it's just people (don't get me wrong; the drugs have there uses, but they do not cure mental 'illness'. fact.)

But I don't know enough about that to say anything for certain, it's just a thought. And now I gone and gone off the point, damnit. What I was trying to get to was that I think depression should be more openly discussed, especially among guys, who in my experience are worse for pretending it's nothing too serious, or that it's not there. I'm not saying people should shout it from the rooftops and make personalised t-shirts proclaiming their state of mind, but if you can't talk to your friends or your family, chances are you won't talk to anyone. 

Once or twice I've had reason to think that one of my friend's was suffering from depression, and that other friends weren't giving the thing the seriousness it deserved or didn't really know what to make of it. I wanted to talk to the person but they were extremely difficult to approach about it. I knew the person would definitely have seen it as personal weakness to admit to something as basically human as feeling sad. It made me feel terrible that I couldn't bring myself to just give them a hug and say 'I'm there for you', but I couldn't as long as the person remained so outwardly unfazed. And it fucking pisses me off that the situation can exist where someone feels they can't admit something like that, because of the shame or the stigma, the associations. 

This person seems to be ok now. I think the thing has sorted itself out for now at least, so they're in no danger. But if something were to happen again, I'd like to know that they wouldn't have doubts about telling someone what they're going through. That's all really.

God don't really want to end on a 'where is the love?' note but that's where it's heading, so I'm going to just leave it here. See'yall soon now!