Clinical depression: the difference between you and me.

Normal people have normal lives. When something abnormal happens to them - having had the benefit of a normal life - they have the perspective to be able to say 'Whoa...something abnormal just happened."
That's you.
People with abnormal lives tend to experience the reverse. The normal events which occur are viewed with a great deal of suspicion, yet at the same time, indifference. Suspicion, because normal isn't their mean, and indifference because in the long run, it's going to pass.

Now, take that second person there and bomb them with clinical depression. That's me.

A person with clinical depression has for their only constant the expectation of overwhelming, crushing depair... which can hit with absolutely no warning, for no reason and without provocation of any sort, and hit like a tsunami. It can last for a few moments, it can last for a few MONTHS. And I don't mean everyday, garden variety despair; I mean the bleakest form, complete with immobility and actual pain...the type you feel when you have lost everything, and there is no hope left.
Yeah. Like that.
For no reason whatsoever.
Welcome to my world c.1964 - 1990.

I include the five years I spent going to therapy twice a week. Ew, therapy? How weak and pukey and unfit to live of you. Was it hard?
Yes.
But nothing at all compared to how hard it is trying to make it through an ordinary day when all you want to do is lie down and go to sleep forever.

Before I got treatment the ONLY two emotions I could count on were anger and sadness. Anger was the only thing that kept me upright, so I spent lots of time trying to piss myself off just so I could function, and then hiding the fact I was pissed off so I could get along. Honest to God. It worked, too...imperfectly.

Sadness filled in the blanks when my guard was down. Other emotions like happiness or satisfaction could only be relied upon to occur as a result of extremes, if then.

It averaged out to about 90% shit. The only reason I didn't commit suicide was lingering Catholic guilt. That, and wanting to live long enough to either outlast everyone I hated, or at least get even.

When all that finally changed the result was curious as hell....I started going through all the developmental stages that I missed because of the masking effect of depression. The profession didn't fully realize at that time that this happened. I wonder if it's understood yet.

So there I was, in my thirties, mother, wife, independent businesswoman...tossing fireworks at passing cars. Saving up old spraycans and stale ammunition and dud fireworks so I could have a big bonfire and toss it in. Flipping people off in traffic...as I hung out the window of the car...with one hand on the horn...screaming 'Learn to drive you IGNORANT FUCKING BAG OF SHIT!' at the top of my lungs. Because that's classy.
I even shoplifted once (a christmas ornament, which was enough to give me the screaming guilties and prevent that ever happening again). I made prank phone calls. I carried a magic marker with me and wrote graffitti in public bathrooms. I made water balloons and dropped them on bums out my apartment window. In college I'd sit in class and access porn sites while I sat in the front row with the monitor turned facing the instructor.
In other words, at thrity, I was the worlds brattiest teenager.
OOoooooooooooo, I had a great time!

Now luckily enough, my present husband was like this naturally so no problem there; we got along like a house afire. I'm sure my daughter was scarred, though. Meh; fuck it, we're even. She went through puberty on my watch.

I cannot stress this enough, though: There are answers there, as long as you're motivated enough to find them, and ornery enough to crush anyone beneath your feet who tries to stand in your way. (And there will be those people.) I was very fortunate in my choice of therapist as well. Furthermore, I pledge my eternal gratitude to the people involved in the discovery of Prozac. No, it aint for everyone but it sure in the fuck was the magic ingredient I needed.

Now I have to get used to being - not normal, that ain't never gonna happen - but more like everyone else. I'll never be normal. For one thing, I have to remind myself of this every day- that I can think positively about something and make myself feel better. And it will work. Normal people generally don't have this as part of their daily routine.

Meanwhile, I love my husband, I garden, I drink beer and I birdwatch - both goony and regular. And I tell you thats better than I thought I'd ever get.