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Living with Depression: A Raw Year-End Reflection on Mental Health

Building with sign asking "how are you really?" Photo by Mitch on Unsplash
“How are you really?” Living with Depression.

As 2024 draws to a close, I find myself in a starkly different place than where I began, both mentally and physically.

The contrast is jarring – like comparing two different lives, two different selves, separated by twelve months of persistent struggle.

Today, like so many days before it, I’m engulfed in a major depressive episode. The intensity is particularly acute, with the familiar yet dreaded trinity of symptoms making their presence known: dissociation that makes the world feel like a badly tuned television channel, ideation that whispers dark thoughts I’d rather not hear, and anhedonia that strips away any possibility of joy or pleasure. These unwelcome companions have become as familiar as old friends, though they bring nothing but heaviness.

As time passes, I’ve become increasingly aware of the profound disconnect between how depression is perceived by others and its stark reality. There’s a pervasive misconception that depression is merely a temporary state of sadness, something that can be overcome with a good night’s sleep or a pleasant distraction. If only it were that simple. Depression isn’t a cloud that passes over the sun – it’s more like living in a world where the sun has forgotten where the Earth is.

The notion of creating an end-of-year video has been weighing on my mind too. It’s the kind of project that should feel manageable, even meaningful – a way to document this challenging chapter of life. Yet the mere thought of it feels like trying to scale a mountain with legs made of lead. I’ve spent the entire day pushing against emotional numbness, searching for a feeling, any feeling, beyond this perpetual sense of dread. The energy required for such an endeavor has been completely consumed by the basic tasks of masking and survival.

What many fail to understand is the relentless nature of clinical depression.

It’s not about having “bad days” – it’s about experiencing every single day of the year through a lens of varying symptoms. Some days bring emotional numbness so complete it feels like being wrapped in thick invisible cotton. Others are marked by exhaustion so profound that even breathing feels like an Olympic sport. Then there are days when anxiety joins the mix, creating a cocktail of mental health challenges that would bring the strongest person to their knees.

The symptoms themselves are like unwanted guests who never leave, only changing their seating arrangements. One day might be dominated by the inability to concentrate, while another might feature the complete absence of focus. Sleep either eludes me entirely or becomes an appealing escape I can’t seem to wake from. The weight of existence itself becomes nearly unbearable, yet I continue to carry it, day after day, because what other choice is there? (more on that later)

This year has been a masterclass in endurance, in learning to exist when existence itself feels like too much.

Every accomplishment, no matter how small, has been hard-won against the undertow of depression. Every smile, every moment of connection, every task completed has required strength that most never have to summon.

As this year comes to an end, I find myself not in a place of resolution or triumph, but in a space of raw honesty about the reality of living with persistent, major depressive disorder. It’s not a battle that ends with the calendar year, nor is it something that can be neatly wrapped up in a hopeful bow.

It’s a continuous journey through darkness, punctuated by moments of varying intensity, demanding a resilience that must be renewed with each passing day.

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