Depression ≠ Sadness

I didn’t realise I was was having a depressive episode. I knew something was wrong because I wasn’t making it out of bed, going without meals for over 24 hours, and restlessly thrashing about till I gave in and read endlessly or saw television endlessly or stared endlessly or fidgeted endlessly. I remember looking at some food and balefully thinking I would have to chew.

I knew something was wrong because I wasn’t functioning. And I knew not functioning for no physical reason despite wanting to (and at times not caring less) meant I was probably suffering from a mental health issue. But I didn’t recognize it as depression because I wasn’t sad.

If I was depressed, where was the sadness? I tried finding it very hard — I searched under the mattress and peered into the corners of my cupboards. I even rearranged a few clothes and looked for it under the piles in case it was tucked away somewhere in between. But I couldn’t find it.

I tried mustering tears — I wanted to scream but I felt to civil to do so and to tired — I remember reading sad books during one of my episodes as well, hoping against hope that I would cry. Later on I realised that I wanted to feel something other than the agitation and restlessness.

I remember explaining to myself, I am just tired. I remember thinking, but then why do I have the energy to be so agitated? Either way, when it boiled down to it, I remember thinking that that if I am depressed I must be sad and I wasn’t sad. So while something was wrong,it couldn’t be depression so it must be me. What I didn’t realise was depression isn’t sadness.

Depression is not curling up and crying endlessly — sure it sometimes means being frayed on the edges, crying easily at the drop of a hat — but it isn’t a perpetual pit of sadness. It is a numbing of emotions, a lack of motivation, energy and clarity; sometimes a restlessness and agitation. Its sleeping too much and feeling too tired or sleeping too less and counting sheep. Its a lack of appetite or a hunger for all things comfort food. Now everything I was feeling made sense. Hallelujah !— It wasn’t me, it was depression.

People assume that a depressed person is a sad person. And take it from someone whose been there, thats not the case. Such a narrative is actually harmful — it stops us from recognising depression for what it is; contrary to popular opinion, sadness is a sign of recovery — it means that one isn’t numb. Also, it makes us treat sadness as a illness when it is anything but: it is a perfectly natural emotion.

And now, since my world makes a little more sense,
Signing off ❤ , L.