Living with depression changes one’s whole experience of life, making every engagement with the world a hard struggle as though one is tasked with fixing the pedestal fan after the lights are turned off. But supposedly, although difficult, one would expect that with daily practice one might get slowly better at fixing fans in the dark, figure out work-arounds, develop new skills, develop new expectations of how long a given task will take. This never happens with depression. Each day is just as hard as the day before, just as stressful and dark and hopeless of any real change. There is no new normal to which to adjust, so perhaps a better analogy would be someone who has severe arthritis and each twist of the screw-driver shocks the hand with pain, and yet the task cannot be laid aside, there is no hope for pain relief, and it does not seem to be directed at some greater good, as it would if, for instance, all the energy were directed at escaping a sinking ship or creating heaters for the indigent in freezing climates. It is simply a way to make money so as to stay alive to experience more pain the next day–the reward for faithfulness and perseverance is continuing suffering. It is as though someone lost in the middle of the ocean has been treading water for days, swallowing and choking on water, face burned by the sun and throat burned by dehydration, and with no hope of rescue. I send out my sympathy for those of you struggling one more day in this dark place.
Leave a Reply