weight of depression

This is a simple & yet amazingly powerful post. I am in awe of this author’s ability to put depression into words.

undermounted

Did you ever stop to think about the fact that emotions have a weight associated with them? When you are happy, you feel lighter. You feel buoyed up and capable. When you are in love you feel like you are “floating on air”. When you are sad and struggling against the tide of depression, think about how heavy that feels. It brings you “down”. You feel so heavy, that sometimes it’s a simple struggle to stand up and get out of bed.

No one can tell you how much their own feelings weigh, because each persons scale is individually calibrated and we can not see the sets of weights and measures others employ and use, against our own.

How much does depression weigh?  How much weight can you carry? How strong are you, anyway? I think that the more you have to handle, the more you have to exercise your…

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weight of depression

Can’t Go, Won’t Go

I spend a lot of my time convincing myself that I really do want to leave the house & socialise. I remind myself it’s my illness talking when I say I don’t want to go. So when I’m actually looking forward to leaving the house & something else gets in the way I seriously resent it.

For the last two days I’ve had the most painful headache. Not a headache actually, more like a skull & brain ache. It hurts to use my eyes, to close my eyes, to lie down, to stand up, to be awake, to sleep….you get the idea.

Today I have a social event and as I sit here having gotten dressed nicely, done my hair and covered myself in SPF 50 all I want to do is go home and crawl under my duvet. And it’s not my brains fault this time. Well, okay it is my brain….but it’s not my Mind! And boy do I resent it. Sometimes it feels like I can’t win. Just as one part of me plays the game of life another part of me throws a tantrum.

Like a child I want to stomp my feet and shout “not fair not fair”. Except doing that would hurt my stupid brain.

Can’t Go, Won’t Go

Why I Love: Pharmacies

I love pharmacies. Especially big ones. Or foreign ones. Much to my boyfriends displeasure I love wandering around them on holidays. All the foreign drugs and cultural remedies call out to me as I stroll past, map in hand, en route to another tourist attraction. I spot pharmacys like others spot planes & trains.

I browse the medical section like other girls ooh and aah over the cosmetics. “Look”, I’ll point out to by boyfriend, “they have special ear cones for people with tinnitus”. He’ll wander over, “I didn’t know you had tinnitus”. I don’t. But that’s hardly the point!

When he first discovered my fascination he asked me what it was about and I think it comes from feeling like I’m in a place of health. Row after orderly row of illness-quashing potions with fancy name endings like -achloride and -oxeylene. Perhaps I feel a sense of kinmanship with my fellow customers – other sick people, seeking a cure for what ails them.

I would have loved to have been a doctor, but I can’t stand the sight of blood. I might have been a pharmacist, but in high school chemistry a failed experiment left a still intact scorch on the bench. I might even have been an actor on any one of those hospital dramas, but I don’t like speaking in public. So I guess being a pharmacy spotter is the next best thing!

Why I Love: Pharmacies