Friday, May 11, 2012

Depression is a Thing with Tentacles.


If hope is a thing with feathers*, depression is a thing with tentacles. Depression is sneaky. It creeps up behind you and taps you on the shoulder. And when you jump and turn around, it’s gone. “Whew,” you think, “Close one!” But what you don’t realize is that when you turned to the right to look for it, it didn’t actually disappear – it just moved to the left. And when you turned to the left, it moved right. It was behind you the whole time. Pretty soon, it taps you on the shoulder again. And again.  And pretty soon, both shoulders. See, depression is like an octopus –with more tentacles than you have arms. So as you are brushing one off your shoulder, it’s got another on your arm. So you brush that one off, too. But before you’re through, it has one around your calf and another around your waist. And while you’re thinking about those, there are two more back on your shoulders. And not long after that, it has you by the neck and pulls you in until you are too tired to fight. Or at least too tired to fight it off completely. You may pull away from some of those tentacles, but there always seems to be one that has you by the wrist or ankle.

Depression is a liar. It tells you that you are just being a baby. Depression tells you that you don’t have friends. That you aren’t worthy. That no one wants to hear about your feelings. Depression tells you that you are wrong about everything.  It makes you believe the worst about yourself. Depression tells you that you are hopeless, and then it feeds on your hopelessness. Depression grows strong as you grow weaker. Depression is an asshole. Depression is a thing with tentacles.



* Hope    
By Emily Dickinson

Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune--without the words,
And never stops at all,

And sweetest in the gale is heard;
And sore must be the storm
That could abash the little bird
That kept so many warm.

I've heard it in the chillest land,
And on the strangest sea;
Yet, never, in extremity,
It asked a crumb of me.

Stumble Upon Toolbar

10 comments:

tehamy said...

((hugs))

Bellwether poetry said...

I have a wonderful therapist who told me once "People don't seem to understand that you can't 'cure' depression, but it can be managed, and that management requires a daily vigilance. Depression is the most exhausting relationship you will ever have, but through it you can come to know yourself and become stronger." Seriously, I love this woman.

*hugs* I hope you feel better soon, Gina.

Chicory Blue said...

Thanks...I really needed this post today. To remind me of the lies and of hope....

bluzdude said...

You know, for a quick respite, you should come to that thing I emailed you about, in June. Would be fun to hang out again...

Unknown said...

I hate my depression. It always manages to draw me back in. But I seem to get better at not getting sucked as far in and being able to pull myself out.

You have to have Hope.

Logical Libby said...

This is one of the most accurate descriptions of "the monster" I have read. And those who haven't dealt with it just don't get it.

Great post. Keep your head up.

Michelle said...

This is such a beautiful description of depression. And oh way too accurate :s

Quarantine Hobby said...

Such a true description.

:hugs: for you.

Magpie said...

hoping for you. thinking about you.

esaidev said...

Very informative madam