Depression is about being lonesome and unworthy even when youre around all of the people in the world and should feel like a million bucks. Its not about being sad. Being sad would be a great day for us. Its about feeling like the world is ending and youre its ultimate demise.Today I am not sad but I spent 15 years in the prime of tears when I should have been in the prime of my life. Everything was halted. I couldnt work, couldnt maintain friendships and simply couldnt get out of bed. I held down jobs on and off again but was always on the finest line of being fired while barely still employed. And some angry at life people thought I used my sickness on purpose to get out of work, thought I used it to be lazy or just thought I used it to use it. Some of you are mean. Because as I got better and better and still didnt have a job, quite frankly life without one suddenly became boring. I did feel lazy. But before I felt like the days took eons to complete yet went by so fast all the same. I couldnt keep up. The thing I’ve come out seeing the most of was judgement. People really do like to judge what they dont understand or what they dont want to put the time into its comprehension. I beg of you to not be ignorant of the lost soul you may not see beside of you. We are out there in vast quantities not wanting to be noticed. Trying to be invisible until life will let us go all the while wanting it to end as fast as we can blink. Dont be ignorant. People say they dont know what depression is but people are just playing dumb. We all know what its like to have bad days and we all dont want them. So if you multiplied that feeling to the Nth degree and add the judgement that comes from others and at times some bullying…youve got it. No you wont know what it feels like but everyone has an idea. A microscopic view of what MDD (major depressive disorder) can bring you. And it doesnt come by itself. It comes with more diagnosis to add and is never alone. So please beware the next time you tell someone to find a hobby, or that its just a bad day. Because you’ll never know how humbled you may become when you are suddenly in the drivers seat of it all. Thats how fast it comes on as well….within that one blink. So the next time you think about mental disorders, please remember the strength in its suffering. Sometimes its tears you cannot blink away.
Sorry, last time I got the address wrong. If you’d like to go to my other site which has weird and fun facts and is a lighter side of this world then come find me at http://www.symplicities.wordpress.com!
Self Help Ideas To Ease Depression Symptoms
Depression can be very difficult to live with. It’s tiring to live with the ups and downs, going from feeling great to feeling down. Sometimes it strikes with no warning, and no reason. Fortunately, there are some things you can do to help with the symptoms when they arise.
There are the obvious ways, of course. These include therapy and counseling, and possibly even medications that can help. I definitely recommend counseling, they can make a great support system, and it’s also important to have someone you’re able to talk to who can help you through those down times.
These are some ideas that I have tried that work well for me, and a few that I would like to try as well. Again, be sure to choose what is practical and feels right for you!
1. Practice Self awareness and mindfulness: These techniques are so important, and as you learn to master them, they will allow you to have more control over your thoughts and how your feeling. This is one of the most important, and I recommend working on these skills regularly.
2. Learn to meditate: Meditation is another great skill, it promotes relaxation and peace, and it helps to calm both the mind and the body.
3. Keep a journal: Write down how your feeling, what’s going on in your life etc. Keeping a mental health journal can help you to identify triggers, and help you keep track of things that work for you, and those that don’t. It also helps to get your thoughts out of your mind, and onto the paper instead.
4. Supplements and essential oils: You’ll want to check with your doctor first, but taking vitamins and other supplements can help to boost your immune system, and your mood. Essential oils are well known mood enhancers, and you can use this aromatherapy in so many ways.
5. Stay active: Keeping yourself busy can help keep your mind from wandering into the negative thought zone. Go for a walk, exercise, find a hobby you love…whatever works for you to help keep you moving.
6. Eat healthy foods: Eating the right foods is essential to feeling good. When you load your body down with unhealthy foods full of sugars and carbs, it also affects your mind and your mood. Try to avoid sodas as much as possible, and be sure to drink plenty of water.
7. Practice self care: Treat yourself to some “you” time. Take time out to relax without the stress of chores, errands etc. Go have a spa day, buy yourself a new outfit, or plan a fun outing with friends. It’s so important to take time for yourself to do things that are fun and enjoyable. It’s no fun if you’re all work all of the time.
These are just a few of the many ideas and things you can do to help with your depression symptoms. You can use these as a preventative, or as needed when you feel your depression creeping back in.
You can even sit down and make a list of things you want to try. Practice them one by one, until you find what works best for you. Everyone is different, but these are some great basics to start with that will work for just about anyone.
If there’s something that works for your depression symptoms that I haven’t listed, I’d love for you to share! I think we’re all looking for new and different ideas and tips to try. I hope these will help you as they’ve helped me!
Guest post by: Jessica
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Within a moment of strength, I am weak. From the powers that be, I let love lie. Knowing I have loved, is fortune in itself. But where is the love among a world so unkind? I find it in those most unsuspecting, unbeknownst souls that stand here before me waiting to be unveiled. I’ve told every boyfriend that I’ve loved them. But the truth is that only a few did I really go to that place. I confused love with a love lost in my own soul. Finding it underneath my piles of debris from an unsettled heart. And so far there has been nothing like that of your first love. And that’s what I’m looking for. To feel the pitter patter of heart. The clammy hands in an anxiety of wonderment. We’re always told that we can only know love if we know love within. But then how can we truly love if we are ever evolving, ever growing and ever understanding ourselves? It must mean that love is more powerful. That to find it is beyond all other gifts bestowed upon. I may love easily because I look at people with their gas tank on full and it’s up to them to burn it dry. Maybe it’s not a good way to look at people by giving them the benefit of the doubt. Maybe that’s giving them too much credit. But I don’t look at love as too much credit, I look at it as an overload of fulfillment. I yearn to be whisked away. Not to be stood up as I once was, not to be abused, but to find an everpowerful thing in an even more powerful being. Did I go the wrong way in love? Of course I did, as we all do. Because when you mix love with life it can add up to an equation any atlas would find lost to. To be someone’s everything may in fact be the greatest gift one could ever know. And some of us will even walk around for a lifetime not knowing they were someone’s end all in the wonderment at the fair. Broken hearts are undoubted. But the lessons in each are as well, so why does it hurt so much? Even when we know the loss is upon us. Even when I left my ex-husband it felt like cutting my arm off. I didn’t know what to do anymore. But that’s because he confused love for control and was always out for the conquering. I had to give him my paychecks. If I needed money he’d want me to find it out of the piggy bank we had kept. He took my car to work as I took three buses to mine. I’d shatter like glass each time he’d take off. Leaving for entire weekends as I’d sit alone to worry. Always going back to Seattle where my true home was. Where I’d secretly wanted to be the entire time. Getting out of that relationship was hell to because I never knew what he was capable of when I would break up with him. If we can live with loss and love in life why can’t we let love die when we need to? Is it the lessons it’ll bring because all mine did from my relationship with him was to always err on the side of caution in every way. I can’t trust men. I’m so afraid they’ll take my control once more, that I will get out of relationships if I see control in flight. Now I fight to the death for myself, at least in that regard. I will not be taken advantage of in that way again. I will be raped no more. From the powers that be, in this weakened moment I stand strong. I will find who I am one day. But it won’t stop me from wondering what true love is, because that is forgotten by me. But unforgotten is the yearn for it. Yearning for all else to fall by the wayside and to stop running in place waiting for things to happen. And get these feet to move around the neighborhood. Maybe only to stop and watch as love walks too.
At first it was the nightmares that would come because dreams were something only a positive world could bring. I never thought I’d get a visit. A little boy would stand staring at me with those big brown eyes longing for something. I assume now what it was but I could just be adding to my selfish layer that it could be me. The way he stared so intently like he was waiting for someone or something to come get him. Then he reached his hand out to me squinting his eyes to get a closer look. I awoke right after. Crying to realize my baby would have been born this month, I chalk it up to being just another dream. Like the recurring one I have about my ex husband standing me up at the alter. It wasn’t until a year later would I stop thinking it was just another dream because it happened again. Only this time he was a little older. Still he reached out. Still those brown eyes I knew it was the same little boy. You wonder where we manifest our dreams from. Whether we manifest our thoughts in transformation or our thoughts are manifested by ourselves transforming. I never knew a dream like this and when it happened for a third year he, again looking just a bit older. I’d weep.
People don’t tell you that abortions are painful. You think there might be some emotional trauma expected but even that they don’t prepare you for. I never knew an aftermath more deadly than that of the world of death I then created. This whole time I’d felt such a weird connection with the child I’d never know that I also never realized how much I’d miss it. Miss being pregnant and miss the possibilities of the world that could ensue. I didn’t feel okay with bringing a child into a world where the world was something I could not give. To this day I haven’t forgiven myself. I can’t believe what a stupid decision I made. It’s aftermath was unforseen, forlorn and so unforgotten. I also didn’t want to pass down who I was because I hated myself so much. So in all the pain inflicted it would never compare to the pain I’d inflict now. I was determined to punish myself but instead I just punished an innocent child. For doing nothing but come to visit even after I took away all visiting rights. Today I doubt I’ll have children. Because nothing could compare to the little boy who reached out to me those three nights in a world unknown. I need to be with my child and not have my child come back to be with me. All in the matter of more than a daydream. In a world I’d never know. Where manifestations grow.
When I was young my brother would come into my room before my school alarm needed to wake me up. I’d still have about a half hour left to sleep when my light would turn on, then off, on, then off, and on and off…again and again. “What are you doing?!” I’d scream. I still see him at my doorway with a big smirk on his face turning to laughter then to exclaim, “Reh! Time to wake up!” And he’d run off leaving my light on. Reh had been our inside joke as kids. A way to jab you and yelp out a, “Gotcha!” I’ve never been a morning person so he knew right where to hit my soft spot. There’s nothing better than growing up with a good sibling. Someone to make you laugh at your most down moments, someone to turn to at times and someone who can be your best friend and worst enemy all the same. I’ve always looked up to him. I needed him to be able to roll my eyes with at random things, I needed him when mom and dad fought and I needed him so badly when I found out I got pregnant. He’s my reality check in so much that I do because your sibling won’t sugar coat anything for you. If it’s bullshit, he’ll say it’s bullshit and if it’s funny he’ll usually be the one that told the joke. It’s amazing how your told to find your role model growing up but no one tells you you may one day realize it’s the one you grew up with. Some days I don’t need anything but a good dose of my sibling. We aren’t close right now because of the changes I’ve made, some of the decisions I’ve made and some of the selfishness depression can desire. All of the sudden I became the sick family member and a lot became about me. Maybe I’ve made it that way. I wish I could scream so loud he’d know this isn’t me. I wasn’t that girl with the bruises from the guy she’d married. I wasn’t the girl who changed from herself so much even she can’t recognize. I wasn’t the girl who pulled away, not even during the times he may have needed me. I wasn’t the one who’d made those bad decisions. I wasn’t that girl. But I was. I had to be. I have to face the person I became and confront the person I want to be everyday, always the withering tale of the sad sap taking over. I didn’t mean to scare him during my suicide attempts and I didn’t mean to sit idly by as he was out busting his ass off at life and winning with everyday because he’s the fighter I need to train to be like. I want him to meet his match in me and make him proud just like I’d like to do with everyone. But his match he did meet in his girlfriend. My brother found what is the end all be all of life in love, his soulmate. He doesn’t realize he has everything I’d always wanted because he worked and waited so long to get there. I remember his first love coming over for the first time. She sat in my seat next to him and I wanted to sit there still. “Bitch,” I childlessly thought. What if she takes him away from me? Her pretty black coat over her pretty white shirt with her pretty face and pretty personality. It was then that I realized I did have a jealous bone in my body. I remember thinking, what would happen if we grew farther apart? I didn’t see then that I was predicting my future. I should’ve gotten paid to be a fortune teller of bad things. If only I’d worked harder. Listened to him when he told me I needed to grow up. But I tried everyday to. I just kept sinking farther into my comfort zoned hell. So tumultuously afraid to come out. But now it feels like he’s dead. Like I need to mourn him the way I did three of my friends who passed after high school. Every year one would go. Do I mourn him? The way I had to mourn my old best friend who warned me she was going to pull away because I kept standing her up? I won’t. He’s just too worth it. I wish I could put the worth I see in others onto myself now. To be able to hold my head high knowing I’m the person I want to be. Knowing I am walking around with well worth. Knowing I can walk tall, just like my brother.
Crunching me into the wall with the door, he made his way in. “Get out of here! You’re going to get out of this house right now, I don’t ever want you here! Get up! Get up now, Andrea!” His anger grabbed both of my arms yanking me upwards. I let all of my body weight fall so he couldn’t. But with all of that fire and determination he managed. I never had seen anyone like this. I couldn’t believe not only how angry he was, but what anger can get a person to do. You can turn into something I can’t explain, something mightier, if you will. His hands underneath my elbows, I’d made it to a standing position. “NO, DON’T!” I said. He mocked me. “You’re going to get out of this house and I’m going to make you get out if I have to!” He shouted. And I remember thinking, jesus, I want out…I need out. What am I doing here? I’m finally getting what I wanted, I’d put up with him long enough, and now he wants me to leave, it’s the perfect remedy for the most imperfect couple. We were like a walking divorce. Today, I just put him off into one of the bad symptoms of my depression. He belonged in a category of stuff I guess I had to go through that I would’ve never have decided on unless my mind frame was in the condition it was in then. “You’re going home back to your parents, Andrea!” Too scared to realize he was still giving me exactly what I’d wanted…I just needed a ticket out. But I grew up in a world where you only marry once, and I was determined to punish myself for making this mistake, and at the same time to make the most out of it. So with each day, I looked at it as the marriage I wanted it to be, not the marriage that it was. When I was 6 my mom cheated on my dad with my swim coach and watching my parents go through that hell, is something I can’t explain. But they made it through regardless, and now they’re like soulmates. But my mom would ask me when I was a kid if she should get a divorce, and I’d tell her exactly how I *ahem, sort of, felt. Basically, I took the political road and told her, “This has to do with your husband, not my father.” But the truth is I wanted to tell her to get a divorce. Hell, all they did was fight. Everyone’s temper was incessantly on the ‘on’ button, I hated it. But either way, they made it through, and I was determined to make this one through as well.
I gripped the door frame as he kneed me in the back. He had to knee me I guess because at the same time he was using his hands to uncurl my fingers from the frame. I gripped tighter. “NO!” I mustered out, crying so heavily by this point and too scared to make a sentence. “Yes!” He exclaimed. “You’re out of here, bitch!””You’re going to your real home, where you’ve wanted to go back to all along!” And albeit I did, for some reason I couldn’t think of going home and admitting to a failure to one of the biggest mistakes of my life. I don’t believe that we make too many mistakes in life, because everything we do has some intent to it. It’s when regret comes into play that we call them mistakes, but we meant to do them in the first place so it doesn’t really make sense. You either regret or you don’t. You either screw up or you don’t. But a mistake one does not make when purpose is attached.
One by one, my fingers were getting peeled off, and as I’d try to re-grip them on, eventually I lost as his knee and other hand grew stronger with each breath. Once he had me all peeled away, I felt both hands on my back, thrusting me out the door with two shoves. I’d tripped over the step at the front door, making me take two steps outside the door leaving me hunched over. I could still hear him. “There, now get the fuck out of here, bitch!” I went to turn back to the door, and he slammed it inches away from my head turning to look back at him. Here I was in a city I hadn’t a clue about, so so far, away from home.
Curled in that ball in the bathroom. That’s where I sat crying wanting someone, anyone to burst in the front door to save me within that moment. I never thought I’d be one to accept violence into my home. I’m a fighter with a punch I’d only know once, to my future unfriendly gentleman who’d decide to be the fourth person to call me ‘fat.’ I’d simply had enough. Enough turmoil in my own world, I should only be courteous enough to accept so much from others. So, that night I’d stand there eyeing him for a moment, when ‘blam!’ I don’t know what came over me, but I ran like a little girl afterward scared of the police being called. I laughed as I pulled up to the front door and to the safety net of my home. The police would never be called that night, and on this night things were happening so fast yet so slowly I wouldn’t have time to think about calling them either.
I got married young, but felt so old at the time. Twenty one and I was getting hitched. But it all came fast and as I look back it wasn’t all out of love but more convenience I’d come to realize. He was going into the military and I was in college trying to figure out what it was I was meant to be doing. He didn’t get down on one knee, hell he barely even proposed over that phone one night, but either way I said yes, and kept my part of the commitment up. We had to move to a new city about an hour away from Seattle to Tacoma which was something I don’t think I was prepared for either…to not know a soul and start completely over. But we found an apartment in a town where one block would be really nice and then teh next street would be not so nice, even a little scary I’d say. Needless to say we couldn’t afford the nice places, so we had to settle for the latter.
“Maybe the neighbors will hear him yelling and call someone,” I’d thought. I needed help. This situation was new to me, before this all my husband would do would be to come at me really fast and then hurriedly stop, like he would be flinching he was really going to come up to me. Then pull himself back with the same amount of speed. I knew he had a temper. I continually make all of these excuses for him, not realizing I am actually becoming one of those women. One of the ones thrust suddenly into the world of domestic violence and exhibiting all of the signs. If he were showing signs why didn’t I see it, when I know looking back that I did? I still give justifications as to why I stayed. In a world back at home I could’ve been, with all of my friends but still feeling the loneliness we all feel without having someone to love. I think that scared me more, was that loneliness. But as I see now, I was lonelier than I ever could’ve imagined out there with him in a city I knew nothing about. I wasn’t between a rock and a hard place, I was just between a rock and a rock. And rocks aren’t fun. I wanted to be somewhere where I wanted to be, I just couldn’t foresee how to get to the unseen.
“No, no, NO!” I’d scream again as I could feel him burst open the bathroom door. The more he opened it, the more it crunched me into the wall where I was curled up. I tried putting my hand to the door, mustered all of my strength into that one arm to hold it shut, but his anger was fierce and when you mix it with determination you’ve got a lethal combo. I though his yelling at the door before hand might be all of it. Maybe if he knew I was upset, he’d stop, I’d think. But for some reason it was fuel to the fire. “What are you crying in there? Crying like a little baby, Andrea.” “Your just a baby.” “BOOM, BOOM, BOOM,” his pounding fists and they’re echo made me wince. And when he’d make me wince before this day, like when he’d fake coming at me, would leave me so angry that he’d be threatening, I always would come back at him and do the same. He knew I was a fighter and I don’t know what angered him more. That I was in here sobbing, or when I’d fight back. I’ve always believed that no one gets to take you. No one gets the privilege of taking who you are, but I’d lost that when I let the guy that got me pregnant come and go warping my mind as he pleased. Is this a male thing? I’d wonder. I hope it’s not a people thing, because that is when I want out.
“No, no, NO!” I screamed as he was coming at me. With each step that got firmer and firmer I grew more scared. “Get out of my house!” He screamed. “Don’t ever talk about me like that again!” I’d said something about him being like his father and he didn’t like that all that much I guess. I suppose this was his ‘hot’ button. Chris had many buttons however, and they all seemed to be quite hot.
I’d grown to be afraid of being in my own home which was the first problem I’d had with being in this marriage. But a marriage it was and I was for some reason so determined to see it succeed. I’d only planned on getting married once in life. And that once in a lifetime was my ‘fairy tale,’ supposed to emerge. But if I only knew better. I feel if I only knew myself better, I could’ve also weeded out the assholes much more easily as well. I didn’t know what was in front of me, behind me and to the sides of me because A) I was too young to tell, B) I was too far into my depression and C) just always hoped everything would turn out for the best. But alas the best it was not and the best was only something I have in my inmagination as I would turn into my own worst enemy, and then my husband’s. I don’t think that he loved me and I think also that I could have loved anything that showed me any attention. I was floored when we first started going out, so when he asked me to marry him *ahem, over the phone, I smiled wide and gayedly said ‘Yes’. What was I thinking? You might ask. I did think I was in love with him, and I know now that I was so desperate to be loved that I would’ve gone to any length. I just did’t realize that any length is the road I was headed toward. I don’t know at this point why I said yes, but then I thought it was my ticket. My ticket out, my ticket to a new life away from all that was bad, and my ticket to my fairy tale. I laugh at that kind of thinking now but then, at 21, I had everything to look forward to in a new marriage.
Flipping backwards I could feel my breath deepen as I grunted directly after he’d grabbed my legs from the crossed legged sitting position I was in. I’d been sitting, not to be politically incorrect, but Indian style if you will when I’d made the comment about him seeming like his father. He bolted up from his position, yelling at me until I could feel the grip of his hands on my calves. Deepened was his grip as if he were grasping for life and onto something I never realized until just now. He was grasping with all of his might for everything he lacked as a person…which was a lot. His grip went even tighter into my legs. I flew into a backwards summersault. I landed and immediately turned into fight or flight. I should’ve picked flight a bit farther away but I flew to the bathroom because all I could think of was getting into a room with a door that would shut. None of ours had locks and we’d recently moved from Seattle to Tacoma where I’d had nervousness about as well. It was nighttime as I slammed the door shut and curled into a ball in the corner of the room, he still outside yelling about how I’d disrespected him. I remember thinking to myself that it’s ironic, I sitting in the bathroom after what had just happened, crying my eyes out because I didn’t know how to show him respect, being I had no idea what he would do next with anything I ever did anyhow. I thought I’d seen hell with my depression but the angels of death looked as I realized I was being taken to a new level in a home I had no idea about, which couldn’t be farther from my family back in my real hometown where my heart of hearts always had been.
Keith and Eva were the type of people you read about in books. Always proper with a beautiful house on the corner and a babbling brook in the backyard full of peonies and flowers to water. A nice deck where we would go outside and eat breakfast and sit and chat. Their view was amazing in Canada. My brother and I would go up their on many occasion not worrying about the four-hour long drive. Oh, how we loved them. Our relatives aren’t very close in this family except for Keith and Eva. Mom’s parents weren’t that great to her, or me for that matter and so I hardly spoke to them. Even though Keith and Eva were mom’s aunt and uncle they’d acted more like friends and parental figures when she was in need. I loved Eva so much. She was even beautiful laying in the hospital bed well aware of what she was going through. She’d had a stroke sometime before and that ignited her downfall into today.
We were on our way to see Eva. Keith my Great Uncle had seemed more nervous than I’d ever seen him. He was always such a dapper, strong, respectful human being and so was his wife. Eva and him met at her seventeen years old and him eighteen and they never let go. He was high up in the military flying jets and they were both from Canada. Eva had never even gotten her driver’s license because they were always together and he was going to take her. Eva was always so elegant with her salt and pepper hair with bright blue eyes you couldn’t miss. All I knew was that she was on the seventh floor of the hospital.
“Oh, Keith! You just drove through the stop sign!” My mom exclaimed to him. “Oh , did I?” “Huh.,” was all he had to say with his beret on that I stare at in the back seat. It’s got a little red ball of yarn on the top making it so cute for him. Typical Keith, I think he’d had it the entire time we had them in our lives. He was the type where you would see one of those red “Canada flowers,” that pins on your shirt…he had a plethora of.
Keith and Eva were all about respect and they earned it from everyone they came across. But it’s the little things that are so humbling when I think of Eva and her boisterous laugh at the movie, Dumb and Dumber. Her mouth opened just wide enough to show her teeth but her grace in her hand trying to cover her mouth told of her beauty right there. I wanted to be just like her. “Such a shame,” I thought she’d think after her death. “Such a shame I am to her, I must be.”
“What floor are we on?” She’d ask. “The 7th,” Keith responded. “Isn’t that the floor where people come in to die?” Was her response. We all looked at each other and then to Keith, because no one else wanted to answer that question. “Don’t worry about that now, eh?” Keith said as we all took a sigh of relief that he said anything. I brushed her salt and pepper hair as mom talked to her. She could only see out of her right eye, so I made sure to stand at that side. I stopped looking out the window to the mountains with the skiers flying down the hill. It was hard to look at Eva because I knew it would be the last time I saw her. I always thought I’d want time to say good-bye to someone if they were going to pass, but the heartache it brings with it can sometimes be unbearable. It’s like, you know doom is coming and you try to embrace it but it just multiplies in its terror and keeps rolling at you like a scene in Indiana Jones. The rock was plummeting to me as I’d try to run away but in this movie I can’t escape it.
“Andrea, Eva died today”…moments of silence are what ensue next. “Um, okay.” I flatly said. “I’ve got to go now, mom.” “Are you ok?” She asked me. “Yeah, I’m fine.” I said in return. Man, how my stomach turned inside out at the news. But I wasn’t going to cry, I thought. I couldn’t at work. But I should’ve. Holding these kinds of tears for this long is just so unhealthy. But at some point I feel like I’ve cried about everything else, so I must’ve grieved somewhere in there, right?