can we please understand that “depressed” is an actual emotion as well as a mental disorder
just because you say you feel depressed one day doesn’t mean you’re claiming to have depression and it’s an actual emotion and if you say “i’m feeling depressed today” is…
i totally get what you’re saying and i guess i won’t dispute the definition of it but the fact of the matter is, is that people who use the word depressed as opposed to the plethora of other words that could describe their feelings just as well are making it harder for people like me to be taken seriously when i tell them i have clinical depression
basically i’m going to judge the fuck out of anyone who doesn’t have depression who uses the word. because then i get told by the same people “oh i know how you feel” and “we all have those moments” and i’m like… i’m constantly in that moment and i need meds just to ease up on it even a little i want to kill myself and you’re feeling really shitty (which is totally valid! but it’s not a constant… unless it is… which then maybe you have depression…)
and it sucks a lot.
so im just. going to judge the fuck out of people who use it unless they’ve got depression.
|—||Sylvia Plath (via subtrist)|
My little cousin keeps saying the phrase “I don’t think you’ve taken your pills” to me because I’m laughing at Tumblr posts… Making me feels really uncomfortable since I do in fact take pills…
Last night I thought I kissed
the loneliness from out your belly button.
I thought I did, but later you sat up,
all bones and restless hands, and told me that
there is a knot in your body that I cannot undo.
I never know what to say to these things.
“It’s okay.” “Come back to bed.”
“Please don’t go away again.”
Sometimes you are gone for days at a time
and it is all I can do not to call the police,
file a missing person’s report, even though
you are right there, still sleeping next to me
in bed. But your eyes are like an empty house
in winter: lights left on to scare away intruders.
Except in this case I am the intruder and you
are already locked up so tight that no one
could possibly jimmy their way in.
Last night I thought I gave you a reason
not to be so sad when I held your body like
a high note and we both trembled from the effort.
Some people, though, are sad against all reason,
all sensibility, all love. I know better now.
I know what to say to the things you admit to me
in the dark, all bones and restless hands.
“It’s okay.” “You can stay in bed.”
“Please come back to me again.”
It’s not an incapacity to cope with day to day living in the modern world. It’s an incapacity to function. At all. If you and your loved ones have been spared, every blessing to you. If depression has taken root in you or your loved ones, every blessing to you, too. No one chooses it. No one deserves it. It runs in families, it ruins families. You cannot imagine what it takes to feign normalcy, to show up to work, to make a dentist appointment, to pay bills, to walk your dog, to return library books on time, to keep enough toilet paper on hand, when you are exerting most of your capacity on trying not to kill yourself. Depression is real. Just because you’ve never had it doesn’t make it imaginary. Compassion is also real. And a depressed person may cling desperately to it until they are out of the woods and they may remember your compassion for the rest of their lives as a force greater than their depression. Have a heart. Judge not lest ye be judged.
EVERYONE NEEDS TO READ THIS.
Depression is not a synonym for being sad or having a bad day/bad week.
It’s not a PHASE. It’s not a CHOICE. It’s not LAZINESS.
spread the word guys.
reblogging to both my main and this blog. Because this needs to be said. A million times. Until people get it.
if you’re going to date a depressed person don’t be surprised when they’re still depressed after they start dating you because depression is a condition often oblivious to external circumstance, not a novelty T-shirt that reads “KISS ME I’M DEPRESSED”
Can’t really vent this to anyone face-to-face right now, so here goes:
I was in on a conversation today about someone who took their own life. Immediately after it was said, the comments were “that’s selfish.” There were some “that’s sad’s,” because what else can you say?, but the main reply was accusing the person of selfishness.
Suicide is selfish, yeah. It’s making the decision to remove your life, biologically speaking at the very least (depending on what you believe concerning consciousness), from this world. You are leaving behind all of the people that care about you in one way or another. In this particular context, it happened at a very inconvenient time for the people involved.
But something interesting happened when the victim was called selfish - nothing else was said (aside from “that’s sad.”) Not, “I wonder what drove them to it” or “I can’t imagine what wanting to end your own life would feel like” or “what a world we live in where someone can hurt so much that that would be an option” or anything like that. “Selfish.” That’s it.
I think that labeling people who take their own life as selfish is a form of victim-blaming. Now, of course, strictly speaking, the victim of voluntary suicide is, by definition, also the culprit. But the context behind the want to take one’s own life is so huge, complex, and important that to give your only consideration in your inevitable moral evaluation of the person to just the person themselves is to practice such a low standard of compassion. The culprit, broadly speaking, is both the victim and the circumstances, including or perhaps exclusively (not sure here) the victim’s interpretations of those circumstances, under which the victim took their own life.
They’re dead now, though. Some might think that there’s no more need for compassion towards the victim; the loved ones of the deceased need to be attended to. The victim is, after all, broadly speaking, both the deceased and their loved ones. I think it’s a human ability to feel compassion for the dead. Maybe it’s an illusion - maybe we’re just having compassion for memories. What does it mean to have compassion for someone who is dead? What is the object here? There’s something there… maybe it is just memory.
If so, then there’s another problem. Definitively accusing the deceased of selfishness erases their identity. You remember them as selfish and nothing else. Everything that person did is rendered “underneath” their final, selfish act, or at the very least, anything else that is said about them is tinged with their alleged selfishness which would not have been there had they not ended their own lives. Of course, you may have no problem here since perhaps you didn’t know them. But I think it takes little mental effort to assume that there was actually a human being who deserves your consideration as such.
Maybe I’m totally wrong here, but I just can’t stand this. Aside from this situation, there have been many times when this or a similar thing has been said. I never have the courage or articulatory power to conjure up something that I mean, so I just remain quiet. Plus, I never know if the person is speaking from experience, and if they are, I would be completely out of line.
And so… I guess I’m just saying this to tumblr. Whatever works.
The one thing I absolutely hate when people speak about suicide is “how the person was selfish for doing it”. People who commit suicide (verses self-sacrifice, which is a completely different mindset) are mentally ill people. They have real issues, things that many people aren’t able to comprehend.
Little known fact about me, my mother committed suicide almost three years ago. Yes, I was upset about it - I still am. But to be upset at her for it is utterly ridiculous. She was sick for the vast majority of her life. She tried an array of medical treatments (including electroconvulsive therapy), none of them worked for any period over a few weeks. She was kicked out of her mental health programs for not “recovering” on their schedules and for relapsing with self-harm. She was literally trapped in her own mind for 40 years, was steadily getting worse, and didn’t know what else to do. It wasn’t her first attempt, it wasn’t even the most serious one, but it was enough that her body shut down.
Far too often, I see people who say that suicide is selfish and cowardly, but these people don’t understand mental illness. It’s not a switch you can flip on and off, there’s no place that you can run to and get away from it - it’s always there and depending on the severity, it always will be.
Yes, calling someone selfish, cowardly, etc for taking their own life is victim blaming - it’s also perpetuating the stigma that mentally ill and suicidal people have which makes it difficult for them to get help. It’s more detrimental than helpful by any means.
One thing I’ve always noticed when people say suicide is selfish, they always qualify it with “How could they leave everyone behind, they’re so selfish.” How much more selfish is it to want someone who’s literally a prisoner of their own mind to have to continually suffer so that you wont miss them?
Wish I was dead again.
Also wanna note. Well, doesn’t really matter.
I don’t put these things up every time I want to kill myself or am depressed.
My whole thing would be these posts if I did & I tend to not want to, because it seems like I’m just a “whiny little bitch wanting attention”.
But it’s still nice, to be able to post this, I guess. Sometimes.
There’s an intense fear when posting these, though.
Will someone Like it, Reblog it, Reply to it, Message me about it, Harass me about it, etc. So far I’ve only had 1 message & it was a bit of a fail.
Depression. It’s like jelly on a sandwich, it pretends to be spread out evenly throughout the day, or looks like it’s stable, but then it fucking spills over the sides. Into the morning or night, or at the dinner table or the depression would hit you randomly when you’re reading a deep book. One second you’re fine, then another you are overwhelmed. And you’re like “Fucking shit man!” And try to wipe yourself clean with a napkin, which would be like listening to music or anything to take your mind off it, but your hands are still sticky, it doesn’t work, it stays with you. Until you scrub your hands with soap. I guess that would be the medication & therapy (if they end up working). And it’s not like you can be like “Hey, I just won’t eat jelly sandwiches” because your body has this uncontrollable urge for it. It can’t help it. It would go on its own & keep feeding you these damn jelly sandwiches, no matter how sick of them you were. So it’d be a cycle of force fed depression by your own body. Fucked up.