I was surprised as I turned on my computer this morning. I muddled through some emails, and then opened the Tiny Buddha page where one of my posts was published recently. 25 comments! I had not expected that. Reading through others’ stories, I suddenly realized, I’m not so alone! I had always thought I was “weird” with having the words “major depression” struck against my diagnosis. However, it really seems much more widespread than I imagined it to be. It’s not just me on this sinking ship.
Yet, it seems that not everyone can empathize. Some still laugh and think I should “snap out of it.“
Actually, some readers have written and asked me, “How does it actually feel when one is depressed?” A simple search on the internet gives you a list of symptoms as loss of motivation, loss of appetite, lethargy, suicide ideations etc… But these as a matter of fact theories do not do sufferers of depression any justice as to the hell they go through.
Other sufferers probably describe it differently. Some say the “dark dog”, some say the “bottomless pit of hell.” For me, it was “snow”…
In the worst days, I felt trapped under 50 feet of snow after an avalanche. I couldn’t breathe, I was squished, I couldn’t move, I didn’t know what was going on, and I couldn’t push out or up however hard I tried.
I could however, see people watching me trapped, telling me not to panic, that help is on the way. They tried to distract me from focusing on my immediate situation. They tried to tell me that I would get out soon. They tried to tell me there were others in more destitute circumstances than me.
No use.
I was trapped. I felt I was trapped. I felt there was no way out as the once beautiful snowflakes on my eyelashes solidified into boulders around me, against me. It became all dark, blindingly dark with the luminosity of the snow reflecting the sun. It stung my eyes.
Whatever anyone told me, my reality to myself was that I was trapped, and that there was no way out.
I was freezing, and it was excruciating. I was drenched in somber darkness, or is it brightness, and it just kept getting darker and deeper and darker and deeper and suddenly brighter and even more confusing. I couldn’t understand why I was stuck and why I couldn’t get out. I see the avalanche snowballing but there is no energy in my bones to run away. I couldn’t lift a finger.
I hated myself for tumbling down and getting stuck.
So the most appropriate thing to do then, in that trapped logic, was to die instead of going through the torture of confinement.
This is how it felt for me. Perhaps this is the reason why I developed some claustrophobic tendencies and do not enjoy small places, or large venues with crowds and little personal space. Crushed under, nowhere to go.
One can’t simply snap out from under 50 feet of snow.
It’s no joke.
Perhaps it was 12 months or more, till I slowly regained a bit of strength with my partner and my shrink, to help myself.
In a destitute form like this, only we can lift ourselves up, and out.
Today yes, today I still feel like this sometimes, mulling over why I even bother to write. What’s the point of it all. But at least, I now know it’s possible to get out of this snow box bit by bit, and manage the pain and ache I have inside.
It can be done.
That’s a great explanation. It’s definitely a pain and an ache, that’s what people don’t realise. Its an ache that affects every part of your body. A list of symptoms can form part of a basic understanding for people around you, but it doesn’t convey the true feeling of it all. Only someone who has experienced it can truly know what you are going through. I often explain it by telling people to imagine someone who has run a marathon, whilst hunched over, laden with shopping, whilst feeling like they did when they were heartbroken. That feeling of helplessness mixed with anger, suffering and pain, and the desperate desire for it all to end. Unfortunately there is no definite finish line, only a hope that each day things will become more bearable than the last.
Hi Daniel
Yup – that feeling of no finish line, dont know when this pain will all end… that’s the scary bit of the mood disorders I think, losing control, and not knowing when it will end. You say it so right!
But hopefully, like me, you will find a day in the light amidst the darkness. Slowly we will find our way out…
Noch NOch
Dear Noch, I read your story on Tiny Budda and found that you are living in Beijing. Hugs. It’s good you are coming out of it. Maybe we are similar age too. A friend said when we are around 28, Satan returns. I was diagnosed Major Depression a couple years ago and relied on meds for a while. Indeed, I learnt a lot form the depression episode and wanted to get off the meds but failed 3 times. I left US and took a year for break. Now I’m living in Beijing for a job more inlined with my personal interest. Finally, I think I’m all good without the meds with the help of acupuncture and yoga. So best luck to you. Hugs with love! XC
Hi XC
Yes! I’m in Beijing too, and thanks for coming by after TIny Buddha. I’m turning 31 years old this year… wow, nearly 3 years since my first diagnosis. It sounds like such a long time, sometimes I wonder where has my years gone? I still worry I can’t get out of it sometimes or go back to “normal” life…
BUt anyways, glad you are finding some solace and strength here in Beijing. What are you doing now?
I also do acupuncture. I’m starting to see chiropractor for this too, seems some connection to the CNS, and maybe chiropractor can, if not fix, help our mood disorders. I’ll let you know how it goes. If you are interested drop me a note and I can give you the doctor’s details
Take care, perhaps we will meet some day here
Noch Noch
Noch,
Once again, you painted a vivid picture in my head. I can understand both how people can think “just snap out of it” and that undeniable feeling that you are stuck under 50 feet of snow.
I’ve lived and done both. My depression came out of a situation but once i removed that situation or it was resolved, my depression went away. But i clearly remember that feeling of hopelessness, it was undeniable and took all my strength to fight. On my children carried me through it because without them i wouldn’t have cared.
I also think i know why you thought you were alone. I can imagine that not many people publicly announce, “hey I’m depressed… A LOT”. But now that you are online, I’m so glad that you are finding that what you are going through is not isolated to you and you are not a weirdo.
Hang in there and keep writing. I’m sure it must be really good for your soul. See you soon..
xoxoxo
Hi Annie
I’ve seen some photos of your children on your website, they are adorable! I’m so happy they are the source of strength of you…. thanks for sharing your stories here and on your website. I enjoy them a lot. And it gives me inspiration too. Sometimes I still feel so alone, but you are write, in this world of cyberspace, somehow, we are all connected and a feel a sense of closeness with people I’ve never met, knowing we go through similar challenges and mood swings. It helps half the batter to know we are not in it alone already
I will keep writing! And I hope you will too
Noch Noch
Hi Noch Noch,
Indeed you are not alone on the sinking ship of depression. Depression, even major depression, is pretty common in this day and age. And our interconnectedness allows us to meet others who struggle with the same problem as well.
Still you’re right when you say not everyone can empathize. It’s easy for people to give advice and to say you should snap out of it or change the way you think. But for someone who struggles against the dark void, such words are pretty useless. As you point out, depression is hell. It is like being trapped under 50 feet of snow, love the imagery btw. And I can empathize since I have been through it myself and had many of those symptoms.
I am glad you had your partner and your shrink to get you through the worst part of your depression. Yes only we can lift ourselves out of our depression, but we must have a compelling reason to. I am sure you had your reason to crawl through 50 feet of snow to get out. Bit by bit, step by step, it can be done. It won’t happen overnight, but it can be done.
Everything happens at its own time and place. Once we are ready, we will step out naturally. There is no rush and it is not wise to rush the process. At least, that was how it was for me.
Thank you for sharing this honest and heartfelt article!
Irving the Vizier
Hi Irving
Good to hear from you again
It’s kind of a tragically beautiful imagery isn’t it? I love snow. It’s so pristine and beautiful, shimmering white. But so suffocating too when too much of it around us. Indeed everything has its own time and place. I know I will come out of this when it’s all ready and my time has come. Perhaps there are much more lessons to learn from this and thats why I’m not completely out of this state yet. I will heed your advice
Noch Noch
Hi Noch,
I actually found my way over to your blog from your Tiny Buddha Post, which I thought was wonderful.
I too have Major Depression, and Generalized Anxiety Disorder to boot.
I had a breakdown a little over three years ago. It has been a slow journey, but I am getting better, Although somedays, it feels like I will never get better.
My worst times are generally in the morning. The feeling for me is one of drowning under a flood of water that ends up feeling like I am at the bottom of the ocean.
I just wanted to let you know that I get it. People who don’t have a mood disorder just don’t, no matter how hard they try.
Anyway thank you for your beautiful posts, and opening and sharing with the world. You are very courageous. Looking forward to keeping up with you.
With love,
Tony
Hi Tony
Thanks for coming over here after Tiny Buddha!
Me too! mornings are difficult for me. I wake up and just feel like rotting underneath my covers forever. I get what you mean by that bottom of the ocean feeling… yeh, it’s a hard thing to empathize. I wish I can explain it better to others who don’t know what it feels like, but then again, i wouldn’t wish this on anyone else
In a way though, being through this has helped me grown and realize a lot more about myself than I ever did.
Thanks for coming by. I hope you continue to get better too, and on those days you feel like you will never get better, well, please remember on the other side of hte world I might be feeling the same. At least we are not alone
Take care
Noch Noch
Hi Noch,
I just wanted to say thank you for your posts!
Your words stay with me and I have really appreciated it, especially at this moment in my life.
The plates in my life recently shifted and it threw up a massive amount that I didn’t expect to ever have to deal with. I am currently dealing with the baggage that I was carrying around and didn’t know about until the last couple of months.
Your blog has been a blessing at a time that I never knew was about to descend upon me.
Thank You
S x
Hi Samantha,
You’re welcomed! And thank YOU for coming into my life and finding my blog. I’m sure there’s a reason we “meet” here. I hope with your life’s plates shifting, that with the challenges you confront, you find the strength within you to carry on. it’s great that you are aware of the changes, for awareness means you can act upon it. I was not aware, or rather, denied I had come up against a wall, and I think that’s part of the reason why I sunk so deeply. Today I’m better. Thanks for people like you who keep encouraging me
I’m glad to hear my writing can comfort you. If even one person finds my blurbs a solace, I will keep writing for us.
I hope you will come back.
Take care
Noch Noch
Hi Noch, I do understand the 50 feet of snow metaphor. I wasn’t chronically depressed, though I did experience some major depression back in 2005. I had lost my job, gone through some big family transitions and moved to a new city (where I knew nobody). I was overwhelmed. It was a gigantic load on my shoulders and I was miserable. I let my family down in a lot of ways during that time. To this day, I’ll never forget that season. I did eventually “snap out of it” but it came more as a result of learning how to take charge of my thoughts instead of leaving them to autopilot. Great work!
Hi Bryan, thanks for coming by! I agree, we learn eventually to take charge of our thoughts instead of leaving them on autopilot as you say. what I found most scary was I had lost all control of my thoughts and myself during the worst of times, like I had become someone else. I couldn’t grasp that and was scared of what I had become. Eventually I learnt to dissociate myself from the “depressed” me, and slowly control came back… Thanks for sharing your story here too
Noch Noch
Hi Noch,
Congratulations on having a guest post on Tiny Buddha. I just went over there and left a comment.
Hi Justin
Thanks!! I saw your comment. Appreciate the support
Noch Noch
Here is the thing – this agony, the darkness, the weight… It chokes the mind, the thoughts, the body itself. Now I’m not an expert on depression. But there is one thing that I do know. You’re not your mind, you’re not your thoughts, you’re not your body.
You’re so much more. Your essence is above the pain and the sorrow. It is limitless and eternal… Yes, the journey is tough, very tough. But ultimately the essence prevails.
Thank you for the beautiful post!
Hi Vlad – you say it very well! “You’re not your mind, you’re not your thoughts, you’re not your body”…. it indeed feels like that, a whole loss of control…! But thanks for reminding me the essence will prevail. Sometimes it’s hard to carry on in those moments of darkness. Sometimes I just want to give up. Still a week doesn’t go by without me sinking into the vacuum but slowly, i can pull myself up again
Your support is a comfort to me
Noch Noch
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that’s one tough experience
thanks for sharing it with us
glad you are fine
Hi Farouk
Thanks for dropping by again – so far, so good. Was tough though!
Noch Noch
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