Depression is poorly served by its common description.
Depression is poorly served by its common description. It is not simply sadness, and it is not something you can be cheered out of. More often it is a draining of colour, a flattening in which things that once mattered no longer reach you, effort outweighs reward at every turn, and getting through the day quietly becomes the whole of the day. From outside it can look like inactivity. From inside it is more like moving through water.
One of its cruelties is the commentary that comes with it. The low mood is bad enough; harder is the voice that reads it as evidence. That you are failing, that this is your fault, that other people manage and you do not. The state arrives, and then a verdict arrives on top of it, and the verdict makes everything heavier and harder to speak about.
