Seasonal Depression
Story by Elliot Watkins | Design by Huynh Tran
I love you, even though you’re depressed
I don’t brush my teeth. Well, I do, but not regularly. I don’t change my sheets when I should, and I haven’t bought groceries in over a month. There are two cucumbers, three tomatoes, and a carton of eggs that were past “going bad” in mid-September.
Sometimes, after things have gotten really low, I end up having to take my laundry to the laundromat in two full size fitted sheets, because I’ve gone so long unintentionally using my wardrobe as a rug.
That’s just the surface.
I suffer from major depressive disorder, and this is my story.
ROUGH TIMELINE
I was 14 years old the first time I was told I should seek professional help. My best friend at the time had an older brother who suffered from seasonal depression.
She told me that she could see the same patterns with me over the previous two years around the same time. I shrugged it off.
I was 17 years old the first time I told my doctor about my existentialism and suicidal ideations. I was referred to a therapist, and I hated it.
Sometimes, the therapist just isn’t the right fit, and that is totally okay. I didn’t know that at the time, and so I ghosted her after having unintentionally made her cry.
Lynette, if you’re reading this, I’m sorry.
I was 19 years old the first time I moved away from home. I moved to Ellensburg and into the dorms, but I wasn’t supposed to be here. I hadn’t even planned on making it to high school graduation.
I applied to CWU to appease my friend and I ended up living through graduation, and I kind of fell into CWU’s lap.
I was 20 years old the first time I was officially diagnosed with major depressive disorder, ADHD and generalized anxiety disorder.
I am 22 years old now, and I want to share what I have learned from my struggles.
FIRSTLY
Depression is not laziness, or something to romanticize. There is absolutely nothing beautiful about the inability to just be. There is this misconception that not being able to get out of bed is the same as the choice of staying in bed.
It doesn’t feel like rest or relaxation when there is nothing that feels worth getting up for. It isn’t “taking a break” or “being lazy”, when existence itself feels too heavy to breathe.
If staying in bed is the most you can do, I am proud of you for keeping yourself warm.
SECONDLY
It really is all about the little things. When I was 20 years old, I hit an all time low. I had never experienced anything like it, and I hope I never do again. During that time, I started a list of reasons to stay. Here are some of them:
#1 you have forever to be dead
#2 for that comforting feeling when a cat finally allows you to pick them up
#3 life can be beautiful
#4 everything will balance out
#5 new music
#6 orgasms
#7 there is still so much to discover
#8 you are needed
A majority of what is on my list is corny, but I think that sometimes it is important to embrace the corniness.
#25 long hugs
#37 the new car smell
#46 the good butterflies in your stomach
#50 bittersweet goodbyes
#62 holding hands
#63 the car wash when the windows get covered in soap and it looks like a soapy rainbow
#69 everything that is worth blushing over
#81 falling asleep to the sound of rain
#87 silence that isn’t awkward
#93 the fall when the leaves start turning yellow and then orange
#94 smiling in the middle of a kiss
#117 smelling candles in stores
DEPRESSIVE REALITY
Most of what is on my list revolves around connection with others.
Something that I deal with when I am in a depressive state is self-isolation. There is an overwhelming loneliness that I experience.
It is a kind of vicious cycle of being depressed and not having it in myself to reach out to loved ones while also telling myself that I’m doing the best I can, but still feeling that it isn’t enough. An unfortunate reality of my depression is that it can, and has, made me into someone that can be difficult to be around.
A while back, I lived with two of my closest friends. I had been best friends with one of them since high school, and she knew how my mental illness worked. My other friend had no idea.
She would see my room and ask how I could let it get that bad or get bothered by me not spending time with her. It was not long after I had started to recover from my worst depression that she went out drinking and texted me, “I love you, even though you’re depressed.”.
I had always thought that because I was doing as much as I could it meant that I was a good friend, until this.
I had always tried to be forgiving toward myself, knowing that everything I did was the best I could do, but the words “even though you’re depressed” caught me off guard. It translated to “I love you, but you are a burden.”. When she got back, and she was sober, I asked her about it. Her response was, “Did I stutter?”. I was, again, caught off guard.
I didn’t understand what she meant until I was doing an interview for this story, and it was reframed for me.
“It’s like, the implicit communication is I don’t know what it’s like to be depressed. You don’t seem to want me around, and I love you anyway. You seem to be pushing me away, and I love you, despite that,” Associate Professor of Psychology Dr. Meaghan Nolte told me.
From my perspective, as a person with depression, the implications of what my friend meant weren’t loving whatsoever. I have come to understand that the state of mind that I was in wouldn’t have allowed me to believe that I could have been loved unconditionally, which in turn meant that I would have to believe that it was a statement made to make me aware that I was a burden.
It’s over a year later now, and we are no longer friends. The reality of it all is that depression is like the opposite of rose-colored glasses. Everything becomes gray, and the intentions of friends become skewed. I ended my friendship with her during my last depressive state a few months ago, thinking that I was a burden, clouded by my understanding of what she had meant months prior.
My inability to find the contrast between my depressive perspective and reality has cost me more friendships than I would like to admit.
LOVED ONES
My best advice to those that care about someone with depression is to just be there.
If you can be there for them, that is the best you can do. It can be exhausting, and sometimes stressful to be close to someone in a dark place. It is important to remember that you are only responsible for yourself.
You can love someone more than anything, but it is not your responsibility to make them better. You can’t. Ultimately, only they
Advice from Dr. Nolte, Associate Professor of Psychology at CWU and Coordinator of the Mental Health Counseling Program
Try not to compare your depressed self to your healthy self.
“It’s really important for people when they’re dealing with depression to stop comparing themselves to themselves when they’re healthy, or other people, to be kind to themselves. Because, again, it’s a cycle,” Nolte says.
Hold close the important values you have.
“There’s still things that really matter. It could be family. It could be friends, it could be pets, it could be a future career. It could be any number of things, but everybody has something that is really important to them, the thing they light up about when they talk.”
Things are still important, even if the importance feels muted.
“If people are able to start looking at the things that excite them, even if that excitement feels muted. Those are probably the keys to that hack, if it's in an individualized lock. What they think is most important is probably the key for every person,” Nolte says.
DIAL 988
If the weight gets to be too much, and it feels like there are no other options, I promise there are little reasons that still matter and you’re not alone. All you need is one.