It's difficult to describe depression to those that haven't experienced it.
It's not sadness. Not momentary. Not temporary. It doesn't dissipate with the arrival of good news, good company or good fortune. And even when you're 'cured' of it, are out of the fog, it's like stray dog on the road, hiding behind street corners and waiting to jump out at you without notice.
It's 2014 now. This is the year I will turn 30. Before turning 30, I will have experienced 3 major depressive episodes in my life.
Each time I've been depressed, it has been a wholly different experience for me, which means that unfortunately, I don't emerge from one with a road map for future episodes.
I don't how others deal with it. My best friend, who has also struggled with this for most of her life, is the only other person whose experience I have some insight into. The book that most clearly articulates something close to my experience is Emma Forrest's
Your Voice in my Head. The big difference between Emma and myself is the fact that she is bipolar. I am not.
As I embark upon 2014, my most ardent wish is to not be depressed any more. It's been more than a year now. Enough. Please stop.
