on depression.

Depression is the result of a genetic vulnerability (which is presumably evenly distributed in the population) and triggering circumstances.
— Andrew Solomon

I started to post this on Facebook—then I thought better of it.

I have this blog, after all, and it’s been sitting here for over a year, waiting for me to do something (anything!) with it.

And what better subjects to begin with than two subjects I’m so well-versed in? Grief for my first post.

And for this one—depression.

I’ve suffered from depression since childhood. I never truly knew it was chronic (and I never thought to have that checked out) until the first time I took a medication that worked. That was two months after my mom died, and three months before my sister was killed.


We live in the right time, even if it doesn’t always feel like it.

I will likely write a series of posts on depression. But—because I also have ADD, they probably won’t be in any discernible order, or in a set cadence, either. I don’t have that kind of linear bandwidth. *smirk*

I will say this.

I have never seen or heard anyone speak about depression so fully, so eloquently, and so accurately. I am blown away. In hearing this TED talk, I immediately felt understood.

Seen.

Witnessed.


The people who deny their experience…are the most enslaved by depression. Shutting out the depression strengthens it. While you hide from it, it grows.
— Andrew Solomon

If you have ever struggled with depression—I implore you to hear this TED talk. If you have a loved one who has ever suffered from depression—I implore you to hear this TED talk.

And, if you think you may have some form of depression, but you don’t know if that rings true, and you’re in a little bit of denial, and you aren’t sure where to go from here, then I most especially implore you—beg you, even—to hear this TED talk.

You won’t regret it.


Our needs are our greatest assets.
— Andrew Solomon

transported.

A woman sat across from me on the train this morning who looked so much like my mom that I couldn't help staring at her. Her hair-- the color and style... her clothes, glasses, profile, build, skin... the way she crossed her arms over her body, gripping her left wrist with her right hand as she sat in thought. The deep creases on either side of her mouth. The constant smirky-smile. Her eyes.

It was jarring, to say the least. I wept silently, contemplating saying something to her, explaining why she'd already caught me looking at her multiple times.

But... I didn't. Because then it would be about me, and then I may not be able to make the tears stop, and I wasn't sure I'd even be able to get the words out without totally losing it.

So, here I am, sitting at work after being transported back to the time when my mom was still alive, when I could feel her soft, tight hugs, when I could smell her scent, when I could hear her voice. Her laugh.

Happy Thursday, all...

Oh. 

And, welcome to the blog.