Depression is a form of mental illness, one of many. Probably it is the most common type of mental illness, for it often accompanies other manifestations of mental distress.
Like all forms of mental illness, it is widely misunderstood within the population at large. It's common, therefore, for people to shy away from discussing mental health issues and to avoid those persons who suffer from mental problems. I believe this is often because lack of understanding makes observers ill-at-east when around people with mental problems.
There's more to the story than that. People with mental illnesses may behave in unexpected or even bizarre ways that give their friends and acquaintances good reason to avoid them. Depressed people in particular are no fun to be around.
But the most serious consequence of public misunderstanding is the pejorative way in which the mentally ill are treated. It's often assumed that there is something "wrong" with them, that they're not "normal" at the very least, that they are somehow morally wrong at worst. Such treatment of the mentally ill is, however, not merely unfair; it is positively harmful.
It is true that there is something wrong with the mentally ill, but it is not a case of moral worth. It is a case of physical ailment. Mental illnesses are chiefly (but not entirely) connected to the brain. The last time I looked, our brains were a part of our bodies. That's key to a proper understanding of mental illnesses.
We would not say that there was something morally "wrong" with a person with a heart disease, or diabetes, or arthritic joints. We would not judge a person with bronchitis or the flu as "bad." There is, therefore, no reason to distinguish brain-centered illnesses from the diseases or other parts of our bodies in terms of the individual worth of the person who has them. The fact that brain diseases behave differently, and perhaps more mysteriously, than other illnesses does not make those diseases less important, or less real, or those who happen to suffer from them less worthwhile.
Tuesday, December 1, 2015
Friday, November 27, 2015
What is Depression?
So, what is depression anyway? I mean, we all get the blues sometimes, like when something important goes wrong. Isn't depression just like that, a case of the blues?
My non-professional answer to that question is both yes and no. Yes, being depressed is a form of being "down." When you're depressed, you don't feel like doing anything, and nothing you do seems to matter enough to lift your spirits. But there's a huge difference in degrees between having the blues and being depressed in a psychologically meaningful way. I won't go into the psychological definitions of depression right now. Instead, I'll tell you what I know about it, and what depression was like for me in its early days.
First off, there are varying kinds of depression that arise from different causes and affect people in different ways. Some types of depression occur in rhythmic patterns, that is, the depression comes and goes with effects that are usually less severe. Another kind of depression, also cyclical, alternates with periods of high and unwarranted excitement and grandiosity (mania) and is characteristic of what's called bipolar depression. Then there are differences in the severity of the effect the depression has on the affected person and also in the length of time it persists. The most severe and long-lasting kind is known as major depression.
When I checked myself into a mental hospital--itself a minor miracle considering the severity of my problems--my diagnosis was at once given as "major depression-suicidal." I'd had the blues, somewhat cyclically, for quite a while, long enough that I'd had the foresight to check out a few books on depression and try to figure out if the symptoms applied to me. But as a non-professional, I concluded that they did not and I let the issue slide. Then one day something happened and I began a rapid slide from seeming normality to serious risk of self-harm in a matter of three or four days.
At that very early stage in my depression, I was mainly bewildered. I was having unnatural thoughts, but they seemed perfectly reasonable to me. And although I readily agreed to month-long participation in a day treatment program that sent me home at night, at first I wasn't entirely convinced that I belonged in there with all those "crazy" people, even though I knew my mind was not behaving correctly. Fortunately, during my month in that program I learned a lot about how like them I was. That was an important month in my recovery process.
I'll have much more to say in future posts about my state of mind while in the deepest depths of my depression. I'll go into the treatment programs in which I participated. And perhaps most importantly, I'll talk about things I did for myself that helped me get the most from my recovery.
My non-professional answer to that question is both yes and no. Yes, being depressed is a form of being "down." When you're depressed, you don't feel like doing anything, and nothing you do seems to matter enough to lift your spirits. But there's a huge difference in degrees between having the blues and being depressed in a psychologically meaningful way. I won't go into the psychological definitions of depression right now. Instead, I'll tell you what I know about it, and what depression was like for me in its early days.
First off, there are varying kinds of depression that arise from different causes and affect people in different ways. Some types of depression occur in rhythmic patterns, that is, the depression comes and goes with effects that are usually less severe. Another kind of depression, also cyclical, alternates with periods of high and unwarranted excitement and grandiosity (mania) and is characteristic of what's called bipolar depression. Then there are differences in the severity of the effect the depression has on the affected person and also in the length of time it persists. The most severe and long-lasting kind is known as major depression.
When I checked myself into a mental hospital--itself a minor miracle considering the severity of my problems--my diagnosis was at once given as "major depression-suicidal." I'd had the blues, somewhat cyclically, for quite a while, long enough that I'd had the foresight to check out a few books on depression and try to figure out if the symptoms applied to me. But as a non-professional, I concluded that they did not and I let the issue slide. Then one day something happened and I began a rapid slide from seeming normality to serious risk of self-harm in a matter of three or four days.
At that very early stage in my depression, I was mainly bewildered. I was having unnatural thoughts, but they seemed perfectly reasonable to me. And although I readily agreed to month-long participation in a day treatment program that sent me home at night, at first I wasn't entirely convinced that I belonged in there with all those "crazy" people, even though I knew my mind was not behaving correctly. Fortunately, during my month in that program I learned a lot about how like them I was. That was an important month in my recovery process.
I'll have much more to say in future posts about my state of mind while in the deepest depths of my depression. I'll go into the treatment programs in which I participated. And perhaps most importantly, I'll talk about things I did for myself that helped me get the most from my recovery.
Thursday, November 26, 2015
Writing About My Recovery
In the early spring of 1998, I hit the wall. Not literally. What I mean is, I had a major depressive crash. I was having vivid thoughts of self-harm and death. My level of anxiety rose to a fever pitch in a matter of days from the precipitating event. I was suddenly unable to work effectively. I had entered a world of depression that I had never before known.
Fortunately, I was able to recognize my need for professional help. The psychiatrist I called referred me to a nearby mental health hospital and I was immediately admitted to a day program. Thus began what has now become a 17-year climb from the precipice of suicide to a greater burst of self-esteem and creativity than I have ever known before in my life.
I'm starting this blog to share my thoughts about both the issues that underlay my depression and the actions I took that proved to be most helpful to my recovery. I'll always be in recovery. The need for continued progress will never go away. I am still on medication, though now greatly reduced, and I am still engaged in therapy.
But my progress against the scourge of depression has been remarkable and the lessons I've learned are, I believe, worth sharing. My story will, I hope, provide both inspiration to those facing a climb out of depression and also ideas for actions that may help accelerate the process. I'll share pieces of that story in future postings.
Be aware, though, that I am not a psychologist or therapist myself and that while I have studied much psychology on my own, I do not represent myself as an expert. For professional expertise, you should consult a psychiatrist, psychologist or mental health counselor. What I'll present here are my personal reflections on my own recovery process.
Fortunately, I was able to recognize my need for professional help. The psychiatrist I called referred me to a nearby mental health hospital and I was immediately admitted to a day program. Thus began what has now become a 17-year climb from the precipice of suicide to a greater burst of self-esteem and creativity than I have ever known before in my life.
I'm starting this blog to share my thoughts about both the issues that underlay my depression and the actions I took that proved to be most helpful to my recovery. I'll always be in recovery. The need for continued progress will never go away. I am still on medication, though now greatly reduced, and I am still engaged in therapy.
But my progress against the scourge of depression has been remarkable and the lessons I've learned are, I believe, worth sharing. My story will, I hope, provide both inspiration to those facing a climb out of depression and also ideas for actions that may help accelerate the process. I'll share pieces of that story in future postings.
Be aware, though, that I am not a psychologist or therapist myself and that while I have studied much psychology on my own, I do not represent myself as an expert. For professional expertise, you should consult a psychiatrist, psychologist or mental health counselor. What I'll present here are my personal reflections on my own recovery process.
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