The paper thin wall between sadness and depression

“Tears, idle tears, I know not what they mean,

Tears from the depths of some divine despair

Rise in the heart, and gather to the eyes,

In looking on the happy autumn fields,

And thinking of the days that are no more.”

_{Alfred Lord Tennyson}

Sadness hurts, but it is a very healthy feeling.  Depression is very different.”

_{J.K. Rowling}

Stillness…I am awake.

Don’t feel like talking today. Coffee hasn’t loosened my tongue. Honestly, there’s not a lot to say. Sometimes sadness seeps in like a gas that glues my lips shut.  It leans heavily upon me like an oversized coat, sapping my strength. Usually I can sit quietly with it.

I can manage sadness these days… mostly.  Sadness is not like depression.  It is a snack instead of a meal, a rock instead of a boulder.  Sadness has definable limits. It has a reason for existence and once that reason is gone, it departs civilly.  Depression hangs around long after the party has finished, refusing to leave.

Sometimes I sit in an armchair squeezed deep into the corner of our living room, looking out at all the trees,  seeing everything but focusing on nothing. A heaviness dulls my mind and slows my thought processes.  I don’t mind sadness at times like these. Too tired and morose to think anything positive, yet aware enough not to slip into full depression.

Playing with Fire

Truthfully though, It’s like playing with fire in an explosives factory.  One slip, a moment of distraction or an unexpected challenge and the whole, subtle sadness blows sky high, leaving me in a naked freefall into depression.  Sharp, venomous, vindictive depression.

When I am sad, I can listen to melancholy music that takes me back beyond recent memory to those opaque places that are necessary to visit once in a while. Lost friends, the innocence of youth and past days free of responsibility have a delightful melancholy to them that they didn’t possess at the time. When I am approaching depression, however, they become an entangling trap. Music, daylight, company and truth all pulling as one, are not strong enough to hold back its biting jaws.

I know that when I am sad, a fleeting visit from my compassionate, beautiful children, a well planned meal or a good walk will flush the sadness away.  Sadness listens to me and moves on when I get up and move about in a healthy manner.  

The Vulture

Depression, however, is always close by, like an ever present vulture on a rotting branch, waiting for any sign of weakness.  It sounds a bit cannibalistic, but depression feeds on sadness like a scavenger on carrion.  When you are sad, you have to be ever vigilant in that hollowed out space, protective of your natural emotions. That’s why the whole thing ends up being so tiresome.

To feel vigorously, unmonitored and without fear is a luxury that most people with depression can not afford.  There are so many triggers laying hidden along the path, so many pitfalls and potholes to trip us up, that nothing less than full attention is needed to keep us steady.

Once you have lived with depression for a while, you sometimes start to notice the signs, so you retreat from those feelings and batten down your psychological hatches.  Instead of pleasant memories and melancholy sadness, you focus on the routine of mindfulness, exercise, gratefulness and medication. Sometimes though, like a siren for a tsunami that sounds too late, depression arrives unannounced, quickly and with too much force. 

That’s why vigilance is necessary, especially when you feel sad.  That’s why a healthy routine and a clued up support team are so important.  Well placed sadness is always appropriate and natural, but sometimes the wall between it and depression is paper thin and brittle.

Links

Five key differences between sadness and depression » The Good The Bad and The Unrelated

Mi-Sex – Blue Day (with Lyrics) – YouTube