I don’t have an illness. Or do I?
Depression is a chronic illness that you can’t talk or reason your way out of. I’ve read that many times yet I’m skeptical. I’ve also read that medications to treat depression are often ineffective. This, I believe. My experience on Prozac for the past four weeks has done nothing to contradict that. I just feel lethargic and numb. Mindfulness, talk therapy, exercise and nutrition are other forms of treatment. So what I’m gathering is that I can’t think my way out of depression. Ok. I can’t get a vaccine or antibiotic, either. Ok. Instead, I’m supposed to embrace what is essentially a healthy lifestyle and wellness program and become an active participant in my recovery from depression.
The irony is that depression makes you want to do nothing. Depression devours minutes, hours, days. A year. If I could be actively engaged, I wouldn’t be depressed. That’s not to say I am not active. I am active. It’s the engagement that’s gone. I don’t feel. Period. Everyone should know that depression isn’t sadness. Depression is the absence of feeling.
Depression is groping for the light switch in a strange and dark room. Someone please turn the lights back on. I can’t find the switch anywhere.