everything is hard

Recently I engaged in a little discussion at Thumbsuck’s64 about what various forms of mental “distress” felt like. None of the examples I’ve used in the past resonated with the uninitiated, except maybe for “feeling like a caged animal being jabbed with a sharp stick”.

What depression means, for me, in practical terms, is that literally everything is hard. (Easy things are hard, hard things are impossible.) Getting up is hard. Bathing is hard. Driving is hard. Talking to people, even those I know, is hard. I bump into things. I cut myself, repeatedly, trying to shave. I cut myself trying to prepare a meal. I break dishes trying to clean up. When it gets bad, I don’t do any of those things.

Sometime in the last year I got a new smoke detector, one with the sensor to detect gas leaks. It sat on the dining room table for at least three months before I ever even thought seriously about trying to put it up. When I got around to it, by the time I managed to get the plastic shit packaging off, I was already super-frustrated. I think it involved maybe one simple measurement, and putting in a couple of screws. But looking at the instructions, and even trying to figure out how to get the damn thing back on its base, was like trying to solve Rubic’s Cube. It’s pathetic. It’s also all too true.

For me, I can’t think, I can’t concentrate, I’m agitated, and I’m almost nearly impossible to be around. At some point I’ll do almost anything to get some relief. But there is no relief, short of oblivion, and then it’s worse than ever.

That’s the best I can do today explaining what it’s like for me.

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4 Responses to “everything is hard”


  1. 1 thumbsucka64 February 11, 2008 at 2:27 pm

    Word. I leave a lot of little things just sitting around for a long time. Not sure what my personal record is for putting something off, but basically I can walk by something day after day, saying to myself, “I really should take care of that.” Like taking out the old newspapers, cleaning up the sink. I’ve had old trash sitting in the garage for so long, I can’t remember how long it’s been out there.

  2. 2 Rob N. February 11, 2008 at 2:43 pm

    At lest when we’re in our right mind we can laugh at how ridiculous everything is, especially ourselves. Peace thumbsucka!

  3. 3 misterbooks February 13, 2008 at 6:22 am

    When I droop down to depression mood, which isn’t as bad as it was a few years ago, my wife and I would call it shut-down mode. Straight to the bedroom, lights out, leave alone, tears in eyes, and a desire for the breathing to go away…even when all is good. What a pain in the ass.
    Now my GAD and PAD kept me inside and driving for about a month or two. That was hard to explain to people. The best way I could was to tell them, everything looks “sharp” and jagged. Dangerous. I too am a gardner and couldn’t even go in my backyard. I told my psych that it was like the world was made of a broken stained glass picture.
    Thanks for the outlet….
    Peace,


  1. 1 pounced upon « Cracked Head Blog Trackback on April 8, 2008 at 11:24 am

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