The truth about depression

As some of you may know, I have suffered from depression, on and off for a number of years now.

I’m a lot better now, although having John move out has been very hard and I’ve felt myself being tugged back towards illness. The good news is, I’m hanging on. I might not be getting much fresh work done, but I’m busy with other things like making the house mine (I hadn’t noticed how bland everything was). Plus I’m getting better organised. What upsets me though is this – depression is an illness. There have been many days in the past year when I have been close to suicide. I felt so bad, I didn’t see the point of living, yet nobody sent me a card. If I’d been in hospital I’d have had visitors and gifts yet somebody in hospital at least has company and meals and a routine. I’m not saying I’d rather be physically ill. All I’m saying is that because depression doesn’t show, sometimes until it’s too late, people often ignore it.

It’s not a question of pulling yourself together, if you can do that, you’re just feeling down which happens to everyone. That’s  part of life. Pain makes the joy deeper and more precious. It’s not depression. Depression is a deep feeling of hopelessness. It’s a total lack of motivation, a lack of energy, a lack of hope. It feels like there’s nothing to live for.

Why am I saying this? Because we can all make other people’s lives better just by showing that we care. If you haven’t heard from somebody for a while, give them a call. WHO CARES whose turn it is.