What is life like for someone living with Depression?

Author Name
Answered by: Talisha , An Expert in the Depression: True Stories Category
For someone living with Depression, life is like warfare between two opposing sides that have festered inside of you. The Light, the representation of yourself -- all your hopes, dreams, inspirations, the way you see yourself, the way you see others -- is in constant battle with the Darkness, or the demons inside of your head. Sometimes the war is just a quiet field as the entities take their rest, but other days it's a bloody massacre -- typically with the Darkness winning. It isn't easy to live with, and it's even harder to understand.

As someone who lives with Major Depressive Disorder, I have seen the war play out firsthand for more than 4 years. It really tears you apart, and if you don't have the support of a loving family or friends, then it begins to mess with your sense of reality. How you see yourself is skewed, you become paranoid of what others think of you, and most of the time you just want to isolate yourself from the world. The Darkness will mess with you, deceive you, and make you believe that you don't deserve to be alive. During these times, while the body is still, the mind is racing.

The medical analysis of Depression, the symptoms, are feelings of unhappiness/worthlessness, angry outbursts, loss of interest in normal activities, sleep disturbances, fatigue, appetite changes, anxiety, trouble concentrating, frequent thoughts of death/suicide, and unexplained physical pain. The best way to put these into perspective is sharing an average day in a Depressed person's life. We'll call him Brett.

Brett woke up one early morning on a Monday, upset that he made it through the night. His eyes are lidded, limbs numb, and he can't find any motivation to get out of bed. Birds are chirping outside of his window, and typically they pleased him, but today all he could do was stare at the blinds and wish they would stop.

Thinking back to the night before, he relives his weaker moments at 4AM. He couldn't sleep. His mind decided to dwell on everything he hates about himself, the things he did wrong, the relationships he destroyed. Everything bad that's ever happened had hit him like a large, steel truck. He had started crying, screaming, wondering what was so wrong with him and why everyone left. He seriously considered killing himself, formulating plans on how to do it and how much time he had before his parents found him.

Eventually, he had drifted to sleep, but the thoughts came with him. As soon as he woke, they started attacking full force again.

A sharp shooting pain went through his back. He groaned and turned to his side, again wondering why that kept happening. It was the third time since Saturday. His stomach growled, but he chose to ignore it. After all, worthless people like him didn't need to eat, right?

He knew that he had to go to school, that his parents would be on his butt if he was even a few minutes late. They didn't know what was happening to him...he barely understood it himself. The clock read 7:09AM. He had to get up. He had to get ready.

He laid in bed for another 30 minutes.

By the time he had finally found the strength to pull himself out and into the shower, his parents were yelling at him. "You need to get up earlier!" His dad said in a fit of rage, swinging his fist with red darkening his cheeks. "We can't afford to keep taking you to school because you keep missing the bus!"

The more his dad yelled, the more irritated he got. Why couldn't the old man understand that he can't help it? It hurts to move sometimes, and the fogginess in his head easily distracts him. After 20 minutes of yelling, Brett finally snapped and told his dad to go suck a fat one.

Of course, that made the old man angrier, and it once again ignited the self-hatred in his head.

It was only about an hour into his day, and he felt like he lived a century. Everything was slow and sluggish to him, emotions heightened, and everything he looked at seemed fake. He had trouble differentiating between fiction and reality, and the things he once loved became another roadblock. To what, he didn't know. He just knew that he didn't feel complete, or that anything was worth it.

Once he got to school, he shut off his emotions and plastered a smile on his face.

And that, my friends, is an every day occurrence for someone living with Depression.

Author Name Like My Writing? Hire Me to Write For You!

Related Questions