This was an art project for school, the assignment being to do a piece on some social injustice. As a person who has been, is, and likely will be depressed in the future, I feel a strong shame when the topic of depression is brought up in a social setting, as if my struggle is some kind of a disease. The way depression is talked about is, for some reason, separate from the way physical injuries are discussed. My pain and injury is no less than that of someone with physical evidence that there is something wrong, which is absolute bullcrap.
Anyway, I hope you like the comic. /end of rant.
Holy shit Hannah.
took the bus home,
carried both bags with two good arms back to my studio apartment
and cooked myself dinner.
You and I may have different definitions of a good day.
This week, I paid my rent and my credit card bill,
worked 60 hours between my two jobs,
only saw the sun on my cigarette breaks
and slept like a rock.
Flossed in the morning,
locked my door,
and remembered to buy eggs.
My mother is proud of me.
It is not the kind of pride she brags about at the golf course.
She doesn’t combat topics like, ”My daughter got into Yale”
with, ”Oh yeah, my daughter remembered to buy eggs”
But she is proud.
See, she remembers what came before this.
The weeks where I forgot how to use my muscles,
how I would stay as silent as a thick fog for weeks.
She thought each phone call from an unknown number was the notice of my suicide.
These were the bad days.
My life was a gift that I wanted to return.
My head was a house of leaking faucets and burnt-out lightbulbs.
Depression, is a good lover.
So attentive; has this innate way of making everything about you.
And it is easy to forget that your bedroom is not the world,
That the dark shadows your pain casts is not mood-lighting.
It is easier to stay in this abusive relationship than fix the problems it has created.
Today, I slept in until 10,
cleaned every dish I own,
fought with the bank,
took care of paperwork.
You and I might have different definitions of adulthood.
I don’t work for salary, I didn’t graduate from college,
but I don’t speak for others anymore,
and I don’t regret anything I can’t genuinely apologize for.
And my mother is proud of me.
I burned down a house of depression,
I painted over murals of greyscale,
and it was hard to rewrite my life into one I wanted to live
But today, I want to live.
I didn’t salivate over sharp knives,
or envy the boy who tossed himself off the Brooklyn bridge.
I just cleaned my bathroom,
did the laundry,
called my brother.
Told him, “it was a good day.
To pinpoint why depression messes with memory, researchers took a page from Sesame Street’s book.
The show’s popular game “One of these things is not like the others” helps young viewers learn to differentiate things that are similar – a process known as “pattern separation.”
A new Brigham Young University study concludes that this same skill fades in adults in proportion to the severity of their symptoms of depression. The more depressed someone feels, the harder it is for them to distinguish similar experiences they’ve had.
If you’ve ever forgotten where you parked the car, you know the feeling (though it doesn’t mean you have depression).
“That’s really the novel aspect of this study – that we are looking at a very specific aspect of memory,” said Brock Kirwan, a psychology and neuroscience professor at BYU.
Depression has been generally linked to poor memory for a long time. To find out why, Kirwan and his former grad student D.J. Shelton put people through a computer-aided memory test. The participants viewed a series of objects on the screen. For each one, they responded whether they had seen the object before on the test (old), seen something like it (similar), or not seen anything like it (new).
With old and new items, participants with depression did just fine. They often got it wrong, however, when looking at objects that were similar to something they had seen previously. The most common incorrect answer was that they had seen the object before.
“They don’t have amnesia,” Kirwan said. “They are just missing the details.”
This can be a challenge in a number of everyday situations, such as trying to remember which friends and family members you’ve told about something personal – and which ones are still in the dark.
The findings also give an important clue about what is happening in the brain that might explain this.
“There are two areas in your brain where you grow new brain cells,” Kirwan said. “One is the hippocampus, which is involved in memory. It turns out that this growth is decreased in cases of depression.”
Because of this study, we know a little more about what these new brain cells are for: helping us see and remember new experiences. The study appears in the journal Behavioral Brain Research.
yet I’m already under
and living with the ocean.
And that’s the most frustrating thing about depression. It isn’t always something you can fight back against with hope. It isn’t even something — it’s nothing. And you can’t combat nothing. You can’t fill it up. You can’t cover it. It’s just there, pulling the meaning out of everything. That being the case, all the hopeful, proactive solutions start to sound completely insane in contrast to the scope of the problem.
It would be like having a bunch of dead fish, but no one around you will acknowledge that the fish are dead. Instead, they offer to help you look for the fish or try to help you figure out why they disappeared.
This is actually a really good way to explain it, I think.
I WILL NEVER NOT REBLOG THIS
So relevant it isn’t even funny.