There is No “Why” In Clinical Depression

I managed to function at about 1/8th percent yesterday. Did dishes, folded a few clothes, fed a couple of meals for me and the spawn. Even forced myself to go to the store for toilet paper rather than say, meh, we have Kleenex…From there it was just head above water time. I watched hours of Elementary and…Fantasized about writing, had wicked daydreams about going off on some self righteous tangent with R and all his bullshit…

Around 6 p.m my mood crashed and I lost the will to even speak, let alone go off on a tangent. I tried to fight it. The depression did not give a fuck. That’s the bottom line. There is no “why”. There is no “quick fix”. It’s called a clinical depression because it’s a LEGIT DISORDER INVOLVING NO TRIGGER.

Do I have certain circumstances in my life triggering the depression even more? Hells yeah.

The difference is, when depression hits (like my seasonal affect) you could have won the lottery and cured cancer and you’d still want to drink bleach and assume the fetal position in a closet. The external things amplify it, of course, but the state of mind…is more than “the blues”, “being down” or feeling sad. It’s more like the concept of demonic possession.

There are no depression exorcists.

Now many with clinical depression bouts take the anti depressants, do therapy, and their lives go on their merry way.

Believe me when I say…It is NOT that easy for many of us, especially those of us with bipolar two depression. Depression is our baseline. When it hits hardcore, we should be given medals of bravery just for our efforts to shamble forward even if we look like zombies putting forth zero effort. The effort we give is everything we’ve got and more and it takes more strength than one can fathom.

Today I am out of bed, sitting in a chair but I’m still cryptified in my bedroom. Why? Because I find this room comforting. All the bright light in the other room which is supposed to make me feel so not depressed…makes me stressed out, heightens my anxiety. When feeling this vulnerable, I don’t need to be staring down my triggers. I need to to feel safe and calm(er) while I ride out this current wave of darkness. Given that nine month depression I went through a few years ago and lived in my bedroom the whole time was not healthy…I see nothing wrong with allowing myself some comfort when my world is topsy turvy from the depression. Comfort is hard to find in a depression. If being in my dimly lit dark curtained bedroom makes me feel safer, calmer…I’m going with it.

There is a secondary reason for the cryptification (yes, it’s a word, I made it one) : I hope if I can calm myself enough, feel safe enough, that I can fall into writing again. That’s a tricky one, falling into a fictional world where there are no givens except for what you create. It requires a “pocket” you can climb into, blocking out all else. I need it desperately because my personal situation has me yanking out clumps of hair once again and it would do my mental health good to get lost in my fiction writing again.THe place where not everyone is an asshole and if they are, well, they get eaten by vampires. So this bedroom crypt thing is two fold.

Is it helping? It actually is. I’m not cured. I haven’t written a word yet. But as opposed to the sunlight drenched living room which I was told would make me all better…This calm safe room is letting the creative buzz bubble under my skin. I can feel the tug of my writing calling to me. I want to get lost, want to do it before my temperamental “everyone is pissing me the fuck off” state causes me to burn some bridges I can’t really afford to burn. If I can just balance the stress of my personal life by falling into my fictional world…it might not be so bad.

If that sounds crazy, so be it. It’s a creative person thing. Madness breeds creativity, or vice versa.

I really wish my mind didn’t work the way it does. I can barely write during the summer months. My norm is fall/winter, during the worst of the depressions, then I come out for spring and summer. I long ago came to realize it’s because spring and summer is where my mood may go up, but so do my anxieties and you can’t focus on shit when your entire skin feels like bugs are crawling on it from all the noisy triggers around you. Winter is calmer, my anxiety is lower…So in spite of the darkness in my mind, my writing most often flourishes. Creativity is a mysterious thing, much like mental illness.

Last year around this same time, my car’s transmission blew up, I had an extra mouth to feed, extra expenses, school expenses, Christmas coming up…And I wasn’t in this dark place because I’d gotten two or so months of stability. I was better prepared for battle. This year, while everything has gone to shit pretty much daily, the depression hasn’t really let up much, so now that the depression is slamming into me…I’m getting my ass kicked.

Bipolar depression is a spiteful bitch, giving glimpses of “normal” life only to find some way to bitch slap you upside the head. Meanwhile you get the added bonus of people around you asking stupid shit like, “Why are you so depressed?”


One would think after a twenty plus year history those around me would finally “get it”. Yet they don’t. They’re the bane of my existence at times. Useless for support. Present for the good stretches, not surprisingly absent when I go down the rabbit hole. If I weren’t depressed to begin with that sort of shit would do it.

So…Rules one, two, three, et all for things about depression, and please do pass this on…



7 Responses to “There is No “Why” In Clinical Depression”

  1. BINGO!! B•I•N•G•OO!!! BINGO!! THERE. IS. NO. WHY!! IT JUST IS!! £0¥€ you!

  2. Nice to hear from you. Got worried you spent yesterday torturing R in a dungeon with a pegacorn sprocket. Can tell just from your cadence and tone that staying in your room has shifted your depression a bit and given you a glimmer of “a pocket” to climb into. Good to hear and crossing fingers. Also, I wrote to Obama and nominated you for National Health Empress of This is What Bipolar II Depression Feels Like, Motherfuckers.

  3. This whole post. I’m so sick of people who don’t get THIS.

  4. Compared to you, me… A rank amateur, so as ever you have my respect and loyal readership
    I gave my pity to a charity so someone with humanity could better use it!
    My depression has obvious triggers, reading my poetry exposes the most glaring, but the nature of my depressive logic is that it is a default setting for my mind
    I follow a cycle which it I have become accustomed to and have persons like yourself to follow to make me less isolated about it, and given our joint sucicide watch pact I like to keep tabs, if only to know if I need a black suit and a plane ticket at least!!
    Depression sucks, but what’s scarier… Life without it when you get too use to it, the words you’re looking for are ‘FUCKED UP’!

    Be well (as possible, considering), smile… If only to scare the normal folk! And don’t kill yourself… Or is it you meant to to telling me that?!

    Good night

  5. There’s nothing wrong with the dark, Morgue. I’m so fucking ticked off at this black vs white fucking world. Being in the sun is good and happy. Being in the dark and keeping to the fucking shadows means you’re fucking all depressed and WRONG. I refuse to submit to that cookie-cutter view of life. No. fucking. way.

    Draw the damn curtains and cryptify. Let your mind bubble. Find the pocket and dive in. No one else is walking your life, Morgue. Don’t let anyone tell you how you should dance or where you should put your feet. We’re all making it up as we go along.

  6. YES yes yes. This is a perfect illustrations of the truths of depression.

    I love your description of the cryptification. I find that need very much.

    People like to tell you to get out and all of that and I think there is a time and place for that but sometimes…like you said…you need to reduce as much input as humanly possible.

    and this..

    “you could have won the lottery and cured cancer and you’d still want to drink bleach and assume the fetal position in a closet. The external things amplify it, of course, but the state of mind…is more than “the blues”, “being down” or feeling sad. It’s more like the concept of demonic possession.”


    Exactly. Felt that often….

  7. I dislike being asked ‘but WHY are you depressed? What HAPPENED?’ Because as you said, there is NO WHY.

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