The creation of a charity, from the very beginning.
In great literture, depression is described as a soul-destroying affliction; one that creates deep wounds, dark nightmares and a terror of falling into oblivion. The truth is, depression is a lot less interesting that.
Sometimes, occasionally, you do get the nightmares, but even at their worst, there is a small part of you that welcomes them and savours them, because it’s just a relief to feel anything at all.
Most of the time, you don’t feel. There are no words to describe an absence of feeling. True depression could never make great literature. It’s sensory deprivation. You hear, see and touch, but only in a mechanical sense.
At my worst, these are the words that made most sense to me:
“Madness is too glamorous a term to convey what happens to most people who are losing their minds. That word is too exciting, too literary, too interesting in its connotations, to convey the boredom, the slowness, the dreariness, the dampness of depression…depression is pure dullness, tedium straight up.” – Elizabeth Wurtzel, Prozac Nation.
“Depression is about as close as you get to somewhere between dead and alive, and it’s the worst.”
“And then there are my friends, and they have their own lives. While they like to talk everything through, to analyze and hypothesize, what I really need, what I’m really looking for, is not something I can articulate. It’s nonverbal: I need love. I need the thing that happens when your brain shuts off and your heart turns on.
And I know it’s around me somewhere, but I just can’t feel it.”
“I wonder if any of them can tell from just looking at me that all I am is the sum total of my pain, a raw woundedness so extreme that it might be terminal.”