I have depression, and not I am depressed — Posty McPostface
Word games. Like "I am an AIDS
survivor" or "I am
living with cancer". "I am not a
"victim". That's nice, but you still have AIDS, cancer, whatever. As far as being a victim or not... how much good has having AIDS or cancer done for you? Are they handing Nobel prizes out for that now? Yeah, they're a victim.
Whatever helps, they say.
You are
"living with depression!" An inspiring achievement.
Look, sarcasm aside (sarcasm is a symptom of deflected depression) no good advice is going to supply a magic cure. Chances are, you're going to continue to feel those symptoms every day, until you stop feeling those symptoms (I'm not suggesting it's your choice and I don't know when, how, or why they will stop). "Living with depression" means you feel depressed (various symptoms, behaviors -- like perseverating, self-criticism, etc.). Living with depression means that you still have to get up, take a shower, eat breakfast, go to work or whatever it is one does, have lunch, chat with friends, philosophize on America's LEADING PHILOSOPHY FORUM, for which some of the honor goes to YOU, watch the evening news, read the paper, walk the dog (if there is a dog), clean the cat box (if there is a cat), do laundry, fix dinner, wash dishes, read for a while, go to bed and stare at the ceiling till 3:45 a.m.
Repeat. Repeat despite life seeming, some days, like one pile of shit after another.
I might have recovered from depression, or maybe I am merely experiencing nice hypomania. Bipolar patients rave about nice hypomania. I don't really know for sure. Maybe I am experiencing a brief respite before it returns, much worse than before. Time will tell.
All I can say for sure is that one
can live with depression. Not being, having, and experiencing depression is better; so is not having heart disease, cancer, AIDS, malaria, TB, stroke, COPD, arthritis, blindness, deafness, alzheimers, and a few dozen other diseases.
I was about 37 when I first experienced depression. It came on very suddenly after slipping on ice one fine winter day while I was out for a run. My fairly strenuous exercise program came to an abrupt and screeching halt. Depression descended like a lead brick. The value of my stocks plummeted. I don't think my mental health was entirely on the level before age 37. I sometimes engaged in behaviors which were counterproductive, harbored a few counterproductive (but highly valued) ideas, hung around with people who were dysfunctional and had a high tolerance for other people's dysfunctions. I created some of my problems, and some of them were created for me. But... life went on. I got up, ate breakfast, went to work, yada yada yada. On many days I felt like killing somebody (excellent candidates for murder are a dime a dozen) but I didn't, and the mortgage got paid off, the house got painted, the dog got walked, and so on and so forth.
Maybe you will/should/can't help but/ take the above as depressing. If you do, you do. What I mean to say, "Keep going. It's what people do." (When you're going through hell, keep going. There's a sucky CW song attached to that quote, I'll spare you.)