I recently went through a depressive episode. It was horrid, and it's over, and that's all I'm willing to say about it publicly so please don't ask about the cause. Suffice it to say it was nothing to do with the bloke or with any of my friends. Or my parents. Or the cats.
I am now capable of observing, from the side of it on which I have discovered that there is still some light and joy in the world, that the deepest pit of it lasted about 36 hours. The gradual slope down to the pit lasted for weeks before it abruptly dumped me into the bottom, but the part where I wanted to sit in a corner and sob my heart out forever was about a day and a half long. Which really doesn't seem like very much time at all, especially given what I know some of my friends have to go through on a daily basis.
[Disclaimer: This is my experience and may not apply to you, especially if you are chronically depressed.] One of the thrilling (pls note sarcasm) things about depressive episodes, is the curious effect they have on time. They manage to make all the minutes and seconds and milliseconds and microseconds and nanoseconds of that period last for ELEVENTY MILLION YEARS. This week dragged on and on and on until mid-day yesterday, when time flipped back to normal and suddenly I had two and a half days left to do all the things I had meant to do all week. I find myself perceiving what seemed like eleventy million years just a day or so ago is about THIRTY EIGHT NANOSECONDS, twelve of which I have just spent writing a journal post. And now I have guilt, which is dangerously likely to feed back into depression, so I will stop.
I am now capable of observing, from the side of it on which I have discovered that there is still some light and joy in the world, that the deepest pit of it lasted about 36 hours. The gradual slope down to the pit lasted for weeks before it abruptly dumped me into the bottom, but the part where I wanted to sit in a corner and sob my heart out forever was about a day and a half long. Which really doesn't seem like very much time at all, especially given what I know some of my friends have to go through on a daily basis.
[Disclaimer: This is my experience and may not apply to you, especially if you are chronically depressed.] One of the thrilling (pls note sarcasm) things about depressive episodes, is the curious effect they have on time. They manage to make all the minutes and seconds and milliseconds and microseconds and nanoseconds of that period last for ELEVENTY MILLION YEARS. This week dragged on and on and on until mid-day yesterday, when time flipped back to normal and suddenly I had two and a half days left to do all the things I had meant to do all week. I find myself perceiving what seemed like eleventy million years just a day or so ago is about THIRTY EIGHT NANOSECONDS, twelve of which I have just spent writing a journal post. And now I have guilt, which is dangerously likely to feed back into depression, so I will stop.
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nrn
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Memorize this fact, recite it to yourself when you're not in a place where you can derive it from observations.
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I'm sorry you had a bout of depression, and I'm glad you're feeling better.
My sense of time does much the same thing when depression hits me, so I completely understand. Ignore the guilt; you didn't ask to be depressed and you can't fix it with the wave of a magic wand, so you have no reason to feel guilty and all you can do is move on as best you can.
{{{more hugs}}}
I prescribe one dose of Edith Piaf singing Non, je ne regrette rien, followed by a gallic shrug and a glass of wine. C'est la vie!
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Enjoy the interstices: they're what life is about.
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*hugs you more*
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[HUGS]
[LOOKS AROUND FOR SOMETHING MORE USEFUL TO DO FOR YOU]
[SPOTS PACKET OF BISCUITS, AND OFFERS YOU ONE]
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Thank you for that quote. It made me laugh when I still wasn't much in the mood to do so.
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Thank you for saying this. I know it, but sometimes it's hard to remember until someone else expresses it.
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