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Life with Clinical Depression (Severe Depression)
7 years ago
General
Let's get the first shock out of the way, shall we? Yes, I am still alive, barely. Sorry about the long phase of silence, but as you probably can imagine, I have had my reasons and would not have been absent unless it was necessary.
You people have witnessed me discuss a great deal of controversial topics but I am afraid that the time has come for me to open up about something so dark and personal that it is bound to leave someone repulsed. If you are in any way squeamish, I recommend that you back off and read no further, because what I am about to say will be completely explicit and devoid of censors. As very few already know, and some may have suspected, I suffer from a very severe clinical Depression. This has for many years, more years than I would want to admit publically, been left untreated and has had a massively detrimental effect on my life. We are talking about a mental ailment/disorder here, one which is heavily underestimated and in some cases just as fatal as a tumor infested in the brain. Everyone knows that the ailment exists but very few have any idea what it does to the host, and to say it as it is, I am extremely annoyed with how many friends I have gotten into arguments with because they are poorly educated in what it consists off. This journal is fabricated to raise comprehension of the ailment and provide valuable insight from someone who arguably knows the darkest depths of clinical Depression.
A whole journal just to hear an obnoxious bitch prattle about her mental issues? Yep, that is exactly what you will get, so this is your last chance to turn around and leave. Depression is a relatively common ailment these days to possess, and those who have or have had it often feel entitled to assert that they know everything about it, but there is an important aspect which must be taken into account; clinical Depression can affect each victim differently and it is rated in different stages. Mild and even moderate cases can certainly be crippling but they are not necessarily dangerous. They are also relatively easy to treat. People like myself who have developed a severe case of clinical depression are the ones who constantly linger in the red alert zone; we are talking deeply embedded self-contempt, self-harm, supreme pessimism, constant phases of grief, and yes, even suicide - everything which most of you people out there detest so much and frown at. You may think this somehow stems from a choice, but what you truly witness, is the result of when a clinical depression has become so overwhelming that it rots away the mind and consciousness until the host is pushed off the edge with self-destruction. People who genuinely suffer from this ailment are not fishing for attention; they are dying, people, a slow and torturous death. And how does oblivious people commonly react to these people in need of serious medical help? They push the knife in and twist it; not always intentionally, but people underestimate how much damage they can inflict on others just by being apathetic and indifferent towards everybody else, and to add insult to injury, force them into exile when their presence induces dismay.
If the ailment is so hideous to live with, then why doesn't the bitch just get treatment? Duh! Well, it's not quite that simple, especially not here in Denmark. My depression manifested in my youth as a teenager and has gotten worse over time, many times worse. Throughout this ordeal, I have visited the doctors and sought medical treatment again and again, yet to no avail. The Depression had preyed on me for longer than a decade before the doctors would finally give me the diagnosis and the MUCH needed medicine to control the ailment. Even today, the doctors and I have recurrent discussions about if I should even have this medicine because they still doubt that I truly suffer from clinical Depression, regardless how convincing the evidence might be. The medicine helps and I would surely not have made it this far without it; but it is no cure. Serious therapy is required, but this is yet another exhausting discussion which must go through my doctors to ever become a reality. Lots of people never get the help they need in time before it is too late. To provide you greater insight, let me emphasize some points which I perceive to be clear symptoms of my ailment.
1. My self-esteem has become utterly destroyed and I have a shockingly poor impression of myself. The ailment has completely dissolved my mental fortitude and everything cruel people say to me is absorbed with a sponge. If they say I am a moron, I believe them. If they say I am deplorable, I believe them. If they think I should suffer or/and die, I'll agree. There is absolutely no defense whatsoever against such malice.
2. The morbidly distorted impression of myself often compels me to blurt out very self-contemptuous remarks, often misunderstood as sarcasm, guilt-tripping or even self-pity because people can't understand why anyone would say such vulgar things about themselves. Alas, they could not be more wrong.
3. I sleep a lot and am literally always tired. Even after having slept for 10+ hours, all I really want is to just crawl back into bed and whatever energy I have recovered is drained in the matter of a few hours or so. This really kicks me in the ass when I am compelled to attend to something educational, because I'll doze off no matter where I wind up and not get much out of the lectures.
4. My interest in education, social activities and hobbies have dwindled significantly over the years, and in case if you wonder whether or not this also applies to the production of my novel Medieval Cohesion, I am afraid that the answer is yes. Some people may have noticed that it takes longer and longer for me to write new chapters, but alas, I keep trying. Problem is that I have no time or energy to invest in writing, and with a mind soaked in Depression, sparks of inspiration are rare visitors these days...
5. Idleness is my worst enemy, because when I am alone, the Depression advances like a malevolent entity to drag me further into the misery, seize control over my mind and force me to browse through thoughts which make me cry. This can be hard to fathom for people who do not suffer from the ailment, but this is not a volountary process which can be reversed by "thinking happy thoughts" or whatever cliche advice people tend to provide. It is downright imposed on me and the ailment keeps me mired in the grief.
6. As the Depression has swollen aggressively inside me, I have grown less and less susceptible to compliments, flattery and even gestures associated with care. If it ever happens that someone says something nice to me, or about me, I respond with skepticism. The weird thing is, I deeply yearn for appreciation and recognition, yet the ailment has forced my mentality so hard into deterioration that I am no longer able to believe that people truly mean it. I can always find a reason to dismiss compliments as mere deception. I am also very adept at finding reasons to assert that all my accomplishments are hardly noteworthy. This is a mindset spawned from a very, very broken self-esteem.
7. I may not hurt other people or commit crimes, yet I still consider myself absolutely worthless, and due to the fact that the ailment inhibits my ability to take compliments to heart, it is extremely difficult for anyone from the outside to affect this self-perception. This is also one of the reasons why I often let people walk all over me with their dirty feet, because from the way I see it, an inferior waste of breath like myself is not entitled to better treatments. Ironically, people hardly ever step in when they see someone going apeshit on my ass, so I can only assume that they agree with this philosophy. I see myself as the epitome of ineptitude.
8. With a contextual link to the profound sense of worthlessness, I consider myself a major burden to everyone I know and care about, which often gives me reasons to think that they would all be better off without me. There are a few people in this world who I believe do love me to some extend, yet should I for any reason die, I doubt it would take longer than a few weeks or months for them to get over the loss. The role I play in their lives is tremendously less signifcant than they think and they would probably realize this if I was gone. I consider it one of those things which people wouldn't believe before they try it.
9. If you have read everything this far, then it probably won't surprise you that I have contemplated suicide many, many times. I have even googled to research what methods are considered most peaceful and painfree. This revelation will surely upset many and some might label me as a selfish coward. I have heard it so many times before... "Suicide is the easy way out, you should keep fighting" and "Think about all the broken hearts you leave behind". That is mighty easy to say for someone who does not suffer from Depression, and have done so for more than a decade, but consider this; if the ailment impairs or even inhibits your ability to sense and acknowledge love, how can you believe that anyone will be affected by your death? People who are at the mercy of a severe Depression often feel completely expendable. Now consider this; after having suffered in silence over the course of years and fought day and night for an existence which seems absolutely meaningless, can one be blamed for just wanting the pain to end and find peace?
10. I am what some, according Dr. Phill, would call a "Short timer". This means that I have slowly come to terms with the possibility that the clinical Depression I suffer from will one day grow too overwhelming for me to endure and ultimately result in a premature death. Most people have dreams and ambitions for the future... I do not. The whole concept of worrying about economy, work, relationships and starting a family seems like pointless contemplations to me, because I will most likely not be around to take part in any of this. I live on a day-to-day basis - I enjoy every day as well as I am able to and pray that tomorrow will not be my last. This is my life, the life of a person who is downright soaked in clinical Depression, and I am far from the only one who suffer in silence and yearn for a little sympathy from the world around us.
So what do I hope to accomplish with this journal - do I think that people will suddenly stand enlightened and express greater comprehension towards my situation? Not really. People will probably still judge, hate and avoid me like always, People will probably still believe that one can be completely purged of the ailment if only you "snap out of it" and "pull yourself together". I cannot create miracles and I can only play the cards I am dealt... So I will hope in silence that this journal will remain here for people to read, as long as possible, even after I one day have passed away. If it cannot garner any empathetic sympathy for me, perhaps it can do so for the other victims of clinical depression out there who are on the path towards oblivion.
Thank you for reading this.
You people have witnessed me discuss a great deal of controversial topics but I am afraid that the time has come for me to open up about something so dark and personal that it is bound to leave someone repulsed. If you are in any way squeamish, I recommend that you back off and read no further, because what I am about to say will be completely explicit and devoid of censors. As very few already know, and some may have suspected, I suffer from a very severe clinical Depression. This has for many years, more years than I would want to admit publically, been left untreated and has had a massively detrimental effect on my life. We are talking about a mental ailment/disorder here, one which is heavily underestimated and in some cases just as fatal as a tumor infested in the brain. Everyone knows that the ailment exists but very few have any idea what it does to the host, and to say it as it is, I am extremely annoyed with how many friends I have gotten into arguments with because they are poorly educated in what it consists off. This journal is fabricated to raise comprehension of the ailment and provide valuable insight from someone who arguably knows the darkest depths of clinical Depression.
A whole journal just to hear an obnoxious bitch prattle about her mental issues? Yep, that is exactly what you will get, so this is your last chance to turn around and leave. Depression is a relatively common ailment these days to possess, and those who have or have had it often feel entitled to assert that they know everything about it, but there is an important aspect which must be taken into account; clinical Depression can affect each victim differently and it is rated in different stages. Mild and even moderate cases can certainly be crippling but they are not necessarily dangerous. They are also relatively easy to treat. People like myself who have developed a severe case of clinical depression are the ones who constantly linger in the red alert zone; we are talking deeply embedded self-contempt, self-harm, supreme pessimism, constant phases of grief, and yes, even suicide - everything which most of you people out there detest so much and frown at. You may think this somehow stems from a choice, but what you truly witness, is the result of when a clinical depression has become so overwhelming that it rots away the mind and consciousness until the host is pushed off the edge with self-destruction. People who genuinely suffer from this ailment are not fishing for attention; they are dying, people, a slow and torturous death. And how does oblivious people commonly react to these people in need of serious medical help? They push the knife in and twist it; not always intentionally, but people underestimate how much damage they can inflict on others just by being apathetic and indifferent towards everybody else, and to add insult to injury, force them into exile when their presence induces dismay.
If the ailment is so hideous to live with, then why doesn't the bitch just get treatment? Duh! Well, it's not quite that simple, especially not here in Denmark. My depression manifested in my youth as a teenager and has gotten worse over time, many times worse. Throughout this ordeal, I have visited the doctors and sought medical treatment again and again, yet to no avail. The Depression had preyed on me for longer than a decade before the doctors would finally give me the diagnosis and the MUCH needed medicine to control the ailment. Even today, the doctors and I have recurrent discussions about if I should even have this medicine because they still doubt that I truly suffer from clinical Depression, regardless how convincing the evidence might be. The medicine helps and I would surely not have made it this far without it; but it is no cure. Serious therapy is required, but this is yet another exhausting discussion which must go through my doctors to ever become a reality. Lots of people never get the help they need in time before it is too late. To provide you greater insight, let me emphasize some points which I perceive to be clear symptoms of my ailment.
1. My self-esteem has become utterly destroyed and I have a shockingly poor impression of myself. The ailment has completely dissolved my mental fortitude and everything cruel people say to me is absorbed with a sponge. If they say I am a moron, I believe them. If they say I am deplorable, I believe them. If they think I should suffer or/and die, I'll agree. There is absolutely no defense whatsoever against such malice.
2. The morbidly distorted impression of myself often compels me to blurt out very self-contemptuous remarks, often misunderstood as sarcasm, guilt-tripping or even self-pity because people can't understand why anyone would say such vulgar things about themselves. Alas, they could not be more wrong.
3. I sleep a lot and am literally always tired. Even after having slept for 10+ hours, all I really want is to just crawl back into bed and whatever energy I have recovered is drained in the matter of a few hours or so. This really kicks me in the ass when I am compelled to attend to something educational, because I'll doze off no matter where I wind up and not get much out of the lectures.
4. My interest in education, social activities and hobbies have dwindled significantly over the years, and in case if you wonder whether or not this also applies to the production of my novel Medieval Cohesion, I am afraid that the answer is yes. Some people may have noticed that it takes longer and longer for me to write new chapters, but alas, I keep trying. Problem is that I have no time or energy to invest in writing, and with a mind soaked in Depression, sparks of inspiration are rare visitors these days...
5. Idleness is my worst enemy, because when I am alone, the Depression advances like a malevolent entity to drag me further into the misery, seize control over my mind and force me to browse through thoughts which make me cry. This can be hard to fathom for people who do not suffer from the ailment, but this is not a volountary process which can be reversed by "thinking happy thoughts" or whatever cliche advice people tend to provide. It is downright imposed on me and the ailment keeps me mired in the grief.
6. As the Depression has swollen aggressively inside me, I have grown less and less susceptible to compliments, flattery and even gestures associated with care. If it ever happens that someone says something nice to me, or about me, I respond with skepticism. The weird thing is, I deeply yearn for appreciation and recognition, yet the ailment has forced my mentality so hard into deterioration that I am no longer able to believe that people truly mean it. I can always find a reason to dismiss compliments as mere deception. I am also very adept at finding reasons to assert that all my accomplishments are hardly noteworthy. This is a mindset spawned from a very, very broken self-esteem.
7. I may not hurt other people or commit crimes, yet I still consider myself absolutely worthless, and due to the fact that the ailment inhibits my ability to take compliments to heart, it is extremely difficult for anyone from the outside to affect this self-perception. This is also one of the reasons why I often let people walk all over me with their dirty feet, because from the way I see it, an inferior waste of breath like myself is not entitled to better treatments. Ironically, people hardly ever step in when they see someone going apeshit on my ass, so I can only assume that they agree with this philosophy. I see myself as the epitome of ineptitude.
8. With a contextual link to the profound sense of worthlessness, I consider myself a major burden to everyone I know and care about, which often gives me reasons to think that they would all be better off without me. There are a few people in this world who I believe do love me to some extend, yet should I for any reason die, I doubt it would take longer than a few weeks or months for them to get over the loss. The role I play in their lives is tremendously less signifcant than they think and they would probably realize this if I was gone. I consider it one of those things which people wouldn't believe before they try it.
9. If you have read everything this far, then it probably won't surprise you that I have contemplated suicide many, many times. I have even googled to research what methods are considered most peaceful and painfree. This revelation will surely upset many and some might label me as a selfish coward. I have heard it so many times before... "Suicide is the easy way out, you should keep fighting" and "Think about all the broken hearts you leave behind". That is mighty easy to say for someone who does not suffer from Depression, and have done so for more than a decade, but consider this; if the ailment impairs or even inhibits your ability to sense and acknowledge love, how can you believe that anyone will be affected by your death? People who are at the mercy of a severe Depression often feel completely expendable. Now consider this; after having suffered in silence over the course of years and fought day and night for an existence which seems absolutely meaningless, can one be blamed for just wanting the pain to end and find peace?
10. I am what some, according Dr. Phill, would call a "Short timer". This means that I have slowly come to terms with the possibility that the clinical Depression I suffer from will one day grow too overwhelming for me to endure and ultimately result in a premature death. Most people have dreams and ambitions for the future... I do not. The whole concept of worrying about economy, work, relationships and starting a family seems like pointless contemplations to me, because I will most likely not be around to take part in any of this. I live on a day-to-day basis - I enjoy every day as well as I am able to and pray that tomorrow will not be my last. This is my life, the life of a person who is downright soaked in clinical Depression, and I am far from the only one who suffer in silence and yearn for a little sympathy from the world around us.
So what do I hope to accomplish with this journal - do I think that people will suddenly stand enlightened and express greater comprehension towards my situation? Not really. People will probably still judge, hate and avoid me like always, People will probably still believe that one can be completely purged of the ailment if only you "snap out of it" and "pull yourself together". I cannot create miracles and I can only play the cards I am dealt... So I will hope in silence that this journal will remain here for people to read, as long as possible, even after I one day have passed away. If it cannot garner any empathetic sympathy for me, perhaps it can do so for the other victims of clinical depression out there who are on the path towards oblivion.
Thank you for reading this.
I do have capacity to reach out and support other people who suffer.
I will continue to seek help, but the adversity will break me sooner or later before I get it... it is just a matter of time. It's fine, though... what happens, happens.
The worst part about depression is how it can make living so scary.
...The fact that even with your articulation and live in a country with a healthcare system more civilized than the US's, you still having trouble getting help only scares me even more...
To be honest, the Danish healthcare system has been alot more glorified than it deserves. It is a common misconception that our healthsystem is so grand and superior. Being free does definitely not warrant quality, I can assure you.
Behold...
https://i.imgur.com/eWA9REk.jpg
I've failed high school. I'm barred from higher education. I'm lucky if I can even volunteer. I'm lucky I even got to be a janitor. I can barely even handle volunteering. I've lived in the modern world all my life, and cannot make any sufficient enough understanding of it to be able to keep up with bloody everyone else.
So I'm very much going to be a short timer myself. I can't even fucking write or draw like I promised myself when I was younger, if I was gonna be a lonely loser like I am now, I'd go do that.
I didn't.
Barely practiced fucking anything. All the vacations, all my life experiences I recognize I'm lucky to have had, were most likely for absolute fuck all than to make my mother happy, and let her pretend I'm still the son she gave birth to, the one she always had high hopes for in succeeding in life, instead of the miserable sociopath I became.
For all your suffering you've gone through, you still have empathy. I reckon mental health services in Denmark are complete fucking garbage like in Canada, or let's be honest fucking anywhere in the world.
In my rage attacks, I've called my mother a worthless whore in front of other people, I've told random people on and offline in my freakouts I hope they get raped and tortured, or their loved ones for that matter, everyone I care about, I end up opening up too much and treating them like shit.
It doesn't matter I'll end up feeling guilty, the damage is done. I'm better off now slightly, but I'm still fucked in life and it's just a matter of meditating and self-therapy to get used to an isolated life, before returning to nothingness, or rotting in Hell, whatever the fuck happens.
I'd like to see all the people that ever cared about me up there in Heaven, the ways they're supposed to be, happy with each other, while I'm looking down from below rotting away for eternity, or however long if God's forgiving enough, assuming I don't just get annihilated.
Every single moment I still live with my family, that I'm still able to use Furaffinity and social media, instead of rotting away in a psych ward, is a true gift to me, so in some fucked up sense it's allowed me to find simpler and simpler shit to "enjoy", as I fade away from everyone who's ever wasted their love on me and been able to act along like I still have an actual sense of empathy, which I guess I still do in a very microscopic way, but so atrophied it's probably better off I continue fading away.
You may not feel it, but for what it's worth, the fact you've still got enough of yourself that you still care about holding yourself to moral standards instead of losing them like me, that's something I think you should give yourself credit for. You probably won't, I don't give a fucking shit, but I think you should.
I'll also watch and in the off-chance I decide to read something instead of being a lazy cunt, I'll give Medieval Cohesion a read.
Depression is a vile ailment which forces people into what I call a mental metamorphosis. I do not have professional knowledge or experience to lean on for support, yet it is my impression that hosts of this ailment can be set to follow two different paths. Grief leads to anger, anger leads to hatred and this encases the core of the dilemma - how do we cope with this tumor of hatred throbbing in our hearts? Some people turn it inwards, such as myself, molding it into a tool of self-contempt which we unconsciously use to punish ourselves for our many flaws and inadequacies. Other people turn it outwards, wearing the mask of the demonic possession which the ailment truly is, molding the hatred into a sharp knife which is used to lash out at everyone within the vicinity. These examples are very rough, like black and white, and there do exist variations. It is also just an extract of my own speculations conducted through the many observations I have made of people who suffer from this ailment, as I have sought to understand it better myself.
You would be more than welcome to read my work, Northern-Fury, yet I would understand if the interest dwindled fast or you never got around it at all. I know how clinical depression inhibits your ability to establish motivation.