Discussion in 'Mental Health Disorders' started by alexman, Nov 19, 2011.
^title well i have alot of depression traits but i dont really feel sad
mm you can still below and feel some joy periods of it but with depression it cycles and comes back sometimes when i am very low i don't feel any emotion at all sadness or joy
The worst depression is not rage or fear or exhaustion or freaking-out sad. It's when the emotions refuse to take another step or sit up. There is no talking then, only feelings lying around in gray wool. They give no advice or encouragement. They give no hope or reason to live through the night. The halls are quiet, there is not even a sob, not even a light.
I think at that point, forget medicine. Forget everything you have learned about depression. Your feelings aren't going to save you on this one. Now is the time when you have to use your friends and your brains. The first thing they'll tell you is that this bad place happens, even if nobody talks about it. And the second thing is that these bad places only last as long as those good days that are contained:
- in a prism in the window,
- in the king and queen of an Italian oak chess board, young tween with jet curly hair swearing at Matt, his friend, that black college sophomore who is always playing with his buffalo-hide briefcase next to his knee. . .
You're going to tell me there is a movement in craniums, brought on by genetics and freeways and cell-phone towers that, 98% of the time in 22% of members of this tribe, preclude and shut down, and this is the time of the end; it's your responsibility, it's the only logical thing, it just makes sense, to fold the costumes up tightly under the lid, to lock the damn thing so it's never heard again. . . Again, these bad places only last as long as those good days that are contained:
- in a remark overheard at the Los Feliz Fountain, a long pithy idea cackled out about newborns by a long brown wrinkled woman who has learned to appreciate only as many carrots and milk cartons as she can stuff in her cart, loves finding stuffed kangaroos in the dumpster and has learned in the times of gray, to laugh.
And why do I write so hard, and so fast? There's coming another day, it's on its way, when I am going to have to read this.