14 Responses to “Blue”

1. summer
   November 25th, 2008 @ 9:47 pm

   It found me in post pregnancy. Not enough can be said for the hormonal influence I think. I’m starting to see the light of day for the first time in months since giving birth in April. You definitely put words to how I have felt.
   Strange how I seemed to plunge into it but the climb out has been a slow and steady process.
   Good that you know a new morning will come.

2. amy
   November 25th, 2008 @ 10:03 pm

   Odd as it sounds, this post is lovely, despite its serious topic. I’m sorry depression has found you. It finds me often…but it will leave, I promise.

   Take care of yourself. Get that sunshine and jazz and everything else. Quite seriously, it may save your life.

   Be well.
   xoxo

3. Swati
   November 25th, 2008 @ 11:49 pm

   Of course. Days continue to be made of minutes but the passing of them brings no joy, no sense of movement or energy. First, an increasing lethargy, tiredness, irritability, labile mood, a tendency to blame others for my increased expectations of them. No sense of beauty, of poetry, of ‘aliveness’ – these senses recede, to belong to someone I used to be, so remote and different. Daydreams, ever my friends, start comprising of such simple things as making a grocery list: imagined but not carried out for I have no energy to initiate… A sense of hopelessness, desolation, of loss of purpose and strength, of identity, of my own power. And then also, till recognized, the trapping of one’s own making, unwillingness to ask for help, unaware of its need, or its power. Oh, I see more; I know the pathways this dark jungle has to offer, mesmerising its prey with this very darkness. I have seen it from the outside, and from within – not enough to be really deep drowning, but enough. And oh, the difference when the sun shines! When you begin to know the shallowness of your own efforts at showing, pretending, even feeling everything to be normal when it was not. And how simple it was all this time, the help one phone call away, or one visit to the doctor, or one night’s long conversation, yet out of reach, invisible to eyes long held bound to the feet shuffling on black narrow paths… I hope that your orbit remains safe, merely burnished by the fringes of this dark ‘holeness’, but if not, you just have to ask. It is simple, really.

4. Jennifer
   November 26th, 2008 @ 4:57 am

   I’ve been reading you long enough to know that you know yourself, but please do be careful with depressing during pregnancy – it increases your chances of PPD. It’s what happened to me with Boychen. And we’re on the other side of it now, but the ordinary, the I recognize this, the this is the way I work takes on a different flavor with all the hormones and sleep deprivation of infancy. Just watch yourself sweetie.

5. heidi
   November 26th, 2008 @ 5:44 am

   This is so profoundly and beautifully worded; your words are a kind of therapy in themselves. Your capacity to capture elements of life so vividly and graciously is probably a tonic, too; your ability to be so articulate saving you from deeper darkness. It sometimes finds me too, but I’m finding solace in an hour of talking therapy once a fortnight; something I thought I’d never need or do, but it’s quite simply the best choice I’ve ever made. Excited for you at the prospect of hibernation with your babe. I know it’s a cliche but soon these days will seem long gone and though you’ll probably not miss the physicality of pregnancy, no doubt you’ll wonder where the days went, and look back to before your babe was born with a sense of wonder that she (or he?!) was ever not-here-yet!

6. Melissa LaFavers
   November 26th, 2008 @ 9:17 am

   Yes. It’s a struggle for those of us who connect deeply to the world around us and to other humans. I sometimes secretly envy those people who seem to be able to dance through their lives unfettered by things like fear, anger, caring.

   Maybe that sounds mean, but I don’t intend it that way.

   Depression is one of those terrible things about being human that sometimes almost drowns out the good things about being human.

   Almost.

7. fuzzypeach
   November 26th, 2008 @ 10:12 am

   Oh yes – every winter. Knowing it is there (like mold waiting to grow in the right conditions, oh yes), that it probably will return makes it a little easier to deal with when it does come around.

8. Lizzie
   November 26th, 2008 @ 12:11 pm

   Like Amy, I have to comment on the sheer beauty of your writing, even on such a topic as depression. I recognize much of what you’re saying, but I don’t know that I can ever specifically name the point in time when I declare myself depressed. Sometimes it seems more constant and other times nearly impossible to fathom such feelings. But it is your perception of it, the resilience you know you possess that lets me know that you will see the other side of it soon.

9. kristen
   November 26th, 2008 @ 1:09 pm

   “Perhaps this makes my depression different than the kind that takes over a person entirely, ceaselessly eating away at the soul like a virus. Still, depression finds me and has found me now.”

   me too. and reading your words on it, makes it feel less isolating and depressing, if that makes sense, so thank you.

10. lizardek
    November 26th, 2008 @ 1:56 pm

    Yes, it does find me. Not often, but surprisingly hard when it comes sneaking up. Like a jellyfish, sometimes I feel the only way to survive it is to very slowly rise to the surface. Beautiful post.

11. Rebecca
    November 27th, 2008 @ 3:28 am

    yes depression finds me. post partum once very badly. and in grief too. you seem to be aware of it and what is in your control to aid yourself but do be carefull. best take it in hand with outside help if it becomes unmanageable. i also find winter has my mood falling down. your writing is beautiful.

12. Johanna
    November 27th, 2008 @ 8:41 am

    … it’s like not being able to open my soul to anything else but more of this feeling. Being shut inside, building the walls myself, grey, wavery, pale. Not dark. Pale. The bursts of color seem to have disappeared, or my abilty to see them. Isolated. insulated to anything but. But. Do you remember the scene in “the piano”, under the sea, tied to the piano, light drizzling through greenish water … untieing the knot, floating upwards, a decision to see the light. It happens to me, without really being able to control it, I float upwards to the light, and break the surface, emerge. Safe again.

13. tara pollard pakosta
    November 29th, 2008 @ 5:26 pm

    I seem to get depressed about once a month, right before my monthly cycle. it hits hard for a couple days and as quick as it came, it’s gone again. i hate that! especially bad in winter with no sun…take care of YOU! get some sunshine on your face and keep writing.
    your writing is beautiful>
    tara

14. Sam
    December 2nd, 2008 @ 2:20 pm

    Your writing is beautiful, stunning, as always, my sweet friend.

    Depression does come to me, especially in the winter. Luckily an onslaught of good hormones (at least that’s my theory) have kept them at bay for the past two years, and when I started to feel that old sad dog at my feet recently, I knew immediately that I had to go outside, see the sun, etc. And so I did, and it helped immensely. Last week I spend lots of time outside (on my parents’ farm) and it was so good for me. I tend to hibernate inside.

    Still, what you’re dealing with – not post partum depression, but perhaps pre-partum – is real and true and definitely not helped by the fact that you haven’t been healthy for some time. I know Ask Moxie (www.askmoxie.org) has some stuff on pre-partum depression, and some steps you can take, but I would definitely talk it over with your doctor or midwife. Hope this doesn’t sound too ass-vice-y – you know how much I care for you and want you to be well and happy.

Leave a Reply