bat to ball
The premier of West Australia, Dr. Geoff Gallop, resigned yesterday, citing depression as the reason.
I was overwhelmed by how the event resonated so very deeply with me. Something was triggered. A serious period of introspection followed. 24 hours of internal dialogue, questions and answers. Honest answers that told a great deal about my makeup and state of mind.
The product of this exercise was a long due admission. An admission that I, too, suffer from depression.
For some time I have known this, deep in my conscience, but never allowed it the currency of admission. Not through fear of the fallout, either. More, it has just been that conceding It holds me back, has been difficult. Fighting the stoicism of my background, of supposedly being able to fight It back to dormancy, has been a trial.
But here I find myself now in agreement with the inner voice, realising that there is a problem, and that just like Dr. Gallop and countless millions, I have to get to the bottom of it.
The premier's words explain it well.
I'm guessing Why? is a common question for depressed people looking for answers. My answer to Why? is simply that I can't. I can't because over a long period of time I've become almost completely ineffectual.
Why? and denial are, obviously, in complete contrast to each other: one is a question that you need an answer for, and the other is the narcotic that attempts to suppress the question. You would think the cycle - and in my case it is ever-present - would set off an alarm.
Even faced with a partner who has been through this herself , who is telling me I need help, I have still soldiered on in denial. She is now leaving me, albeit amicably, because she can't take it anymore, and here I am/was in denial about the issue.
But how could I be depressed when I still function OK? I still write (sporadically). I hold down a demanding, respectable job (just, only just). I still cook like a demon (not half as much as I should be). And I still have dreams (dreams with no path to them). Up until today, I didn't ever hear, or know about, those notes in the parentheticals. That's quite remarkable, but true. It's also a poster for the power of denial in this illness.
As Dr. Gallop says, depression affects people differently. And this is perhaps one of the more insidious aspects of the illness. You can't just match yourself against criteria. Well, you probably can, but if you're clever it's easy to bend the truth to test negative.
The whole question of how depression affects people, particularly with regard to functionality was and still is confusing to me. I am able to get up for work, do my job, exercise, converse. I am not craving bed and sleep. I am not unable to socialise. But, truthfully, the real issues are very close to the surface. My friendships are becoming non-existent. I hate my job but can't find a means to escape it. I waste time in the prime of my life. Alcohol is tempting.
Any which way I look at it, the picture is clear and inescapable. I'm suffering from an illness that is trying to strangle and steal away my life. Denial is useless. Complaining about my lot is useless. Facing the problem is the only solution.
I was overwhelmed by how the event resonated so very deeply with me. Something was triggered. A serious period of introspection followed. 24 hours of internal dialogue, questions and answers. Honest answers that told a great deal about my makeup and state of mind.
The product of this exercise was a long due admission. An admission that I, too, suffer from depression.
For some time I have known this, deep in my conscience, but never allowed it the currency of admission. Not through fear of the fallout, either. More, it has just been that conceding It holds me back, has been difficult. Fighting the stoicism of my background, of supposedly being able to fight It back to dormancy, has been a trial.
But here I find myself now in agreement with the inner voice, realising that there is a problem, and that just like Dr. Gallop and countless millions, I have to get to the bottom of it.
The premier's words explain it well.
"Living with depression is a very debilitating experience, which affects different people in different ways."Debilitation. This is the only way I can describe what I feel. I have no drive, anymore. I have gone from being Someone to No-one. I've lost the essence that is me. Why is it that I can't pick up my paintbrush? Why can't I start that non-fiction piece I have a ream of notes for? Why can't I even book a holiday? Why?
I'm guessing Why? is a common question for depressed people looking for answers. My answer to Why? is simply that I can't. I can't because over a long period of time I've become almost completely ineffectual.
Why? and denial are, obviously, in complete contrast to each other: one is a question that you need an answer for, and the other is the narcotic that attempts to suppress the question. You would think the cycle - and in my case it is ever-present - would set off an alarm.
Even faced with a partner who has been through this herself , who is telling me I need help, I have still soldiered on in denial. She is now leaving me, albeit amicably, because she can't take it anymore, and here I am/was in denial about the issue.
But how could I be depressed when I still function OK? I still write (sporadically). I hold down a demanding, respectable job (just, only just). I still cook like a demon (not half as much as I should be). And I still have dreams (dreams with no path to them). Up until today, I didn't ever hear, or know about, those notes in the parentheticals. That's quite remarkable, but true. It's also a poster for the power of denial in this illness.
As Dr. Gallop says, depression affects people differently. And this is perhaps one of the more insidious aspects of the illness. You can't just match yourself against criteria. Well, you probably can, but if you're clever it's easy to bend the truth to test negative.
The whole question of how depression affects people, particularly with regard to functionality was and still is confusing to me. I am able to get up for work, do my job, exercise, converse. I am not craving bed and sleep. I am not unable to socialise. But, truthfully, the real issues are very close to the surface. My friendships are becoming non-existent. I hate my job but can't find a means to escape it. I waste time in the prime of my life. Alcohol is tempting.
Any which way I look at it, the picture is clear and inescapable. I'm suffering from an illness that is trying to strangle and steal away my life. Denial is useless. Complaining about my lot is useless. Facing the problem is the only solution.
posted by W at 2:21 pm
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