It’s not all bad: the truth about depression
There is this popular image of people with depression that goes something like this:
A palpably miserable person huddles in bed, wearing pyjamas they haven’t changed in over a week, unable to drag themselves out of bed to even eat or drink.
If the picture is an editorial cartoon there might even be a black cloud hanging over the person’s head.
Or they might be a stuffed donkey with a pinned on tail. You get the picture right?
And the thing is, these sorts of images aren’t entirely wrong. That’s why they’re so engrained in the public consciousness.
Depression is defined as chronically low mood, lasting weeks or months and, in some cases, years.
But the thing about people is that we’re awfully complex, and as such the truth about living with depression is complicated as well.
Yeah, I absolutely have days where I feel sad for no reason, where I burst into tears at the slightest provocation and where I’m convinced everyone I’ve ever met would be better off if they hadn’t.
And that’s even with the medication doing its job. Anti-depressant aren’t just “pop a pill and magically everything is fixed,” but that’s a topic for another time I think.
The point is that even with pharmaceutical help in regulating my neurotransmitters, they’re still all wonky. They still misfire occasionally.
But they also reach optimal levels as well.
The miserable person under the duvet isn’t the whole truth. Far from it, because in addition to the bad days, I also have good days.
Days where it doesn’t feel like there’s a black cloud over me.
Days where things don’t seem hopeless.
Days where life is actually a joy, and it feels like it’s still worth living.
I had one of those days today.
Maybe it was the sunshine and warmer weather. maybe it was the fact it was warm. Maybe it was just that the neurotransmitter roulette spun in my favour, I don’t know.
The point is, I had a good day. One where I felt consistently happy for hours at a time. A day when I could take genuine enjoyment on the things I was doing. When I could almost forget that I have depression.
And you know what? I still burst into tears over something inconsequential.
But crying over nothing didn’t derail my whole day, like it does on bad days. And, despite the tears, the day was still good.
Because it really isn’t all bad, all the time when you have depression.
I don’t know if other people get this too, but I sometimes feel guilty for having good days. For not being that cartoon depiction of someone with depression.
I feel like maybe I don’t really have depression if I’m not acutely aware of my misery and sadness at every waking moment. Maybe I’m faking it or something.
Thing is though, that feeling of guilt, the idea that maybe I don’t really have depression if I have a good day or a run of good days, that’s a symptom of depression.
It’s a sign that, even though the medication is doing it’s job in making it easier for my body to manage the chemicals in my brain, I am still depressed. It’s an illness that doesn’t go away, no matter how many good days I have in a row.
It’s always there, lurking just under the surface.
The fact that I can have good days at all is a sign that the medication is working. It’s a sigh that the therapy has done its job.
It isn’t a sign that I don’t really have depression.
That niggling feeling in my brain, the doubt in my own lived experience can make the good days feel less good, and the okay days bad.
But that didn’t happen today.
Nothing my brain threw at me could topple my good mood. It was great.
Tomorrow might not be so great, and that’s fine. I’ll take whatever comes my way.
But I just wanted to hold on to this feeling, the knowledge that, despite everything that my brain can throw at me, I had a good day.
And I wanted to get this out there for anyone who is newly diagnosed or struggling to cope: bad days are possible. They can happen, I promise.
And when they do, you can put away the memory of how et felt to be happy as a reminder for days when things aren’t so good.
I won’t say that a few good days make everything else worthwhile, but it sure does make it easier to deal with.
So I’ll hold on to my good day, and I hope that you can do the same too.
Because even when living with depression, it’s not bad days all the time.
