what is it?

All the thoughts shared in this blog are my opinions. I study abnormal psychology but it doesn't mean I am an expert on it. I mix in my own perspectives based on personal experiences, and this is a learning process for me as well. What exactly is depression? It's estimated that at least a quarter of people have had a depressive episode. Each person's experience with depression is different, considering there are a multitude of symptoms. People think depression means someone who is sad all the time, sleeps all the time, and barely eats. In the new DSM, it required that at least one of the symptoms is either depressed mood or loss of interest or pleasure. But, I think that it should include irritability (like in the previous DSM).

At least 5 of the following are present in a two-week period:

1. depressed mood most of the day, nearly every day, as indicated by either subjective report or observation made by others
2. markedly diminished interest or pleasure in all, or almost all, activities most of the day, nearly every day
3. significant weight loss when not dieting or weight gain, or decrease or increase in appetite nearly every day
4. insomnia or hypersomnia nearly every day
5. psychomotor agitation or retardation nearly every day
6. fatigue or loss of energy nearly every day
7. feelings of worthlessness or excessive or inappropriate guilt nearly every day
8. diminished ability to think or concentrate, or indecisiveness, nearly every day
9. recurrent thoughts of death, recurrent suicidal ideation without a specific plan, or a suicide attempt or a specific plan for committing suicide

The symptoms cause clinically significant distress or impairment in social, occupational, or other important areas of functioning. The symptoms are not due to the direct physiological effects of a substance or a general medical condition. 

(Source: DSM-5, American Psychiatric Association)

You've probably heard of the phrase functional alcoholics. I believe there should be a term for functional depressives. Some people are so good at masking their depression, being able to live seemingly productive, successful, well-integrated, social lives despite this debilitating disease. The amount of energy it takes for me to get out of bed every morning and get through each day, I could never explain. It feels like a war zone almost every day.

It has become to easier to tell people that I'm just tired or I'm having a rough week or that I may have ADHD or I am stressed about school/work instead of saying I am depressed or I am suffering from depression. It is exhausting to defend yourself (or to feel like you have to) especially when you don't quite understand why you have this. Was it from genetic predisposition? Was it past trauma? Was it because I didn't receive enough positive affirmations? Was it because I didn't feel secure or safe when I needed to most? Was it because no matter what I did or said, it had never been enough? Was I too sheltered or was I never given enough protection? Did I not receive enough love or the right kind of affection? Where did it go wrong? And why? Was it because I was more introverted and tend to analyze a lot? Was it because I liked to dream and had a hard time being mindful in the present? Was it because I was too sensitive and felt hurt easily?

I don't like depressing people. I don't feel okay to talk about it so I keep it to myself. I haven't written in months, maybe in over a year, and now I just want to get it all out. What results from writing may not be pretty. It will be messy. It will be ugly. It will be harsh. But eventually as I get through the anger and resentment and guilt and shame and horror, I will find the light and peace and save myself. If you can bear with me through this journey, then bless you. Maybe you'll learn something. Maybe you'll be able to relate and find comfort. Maybe you'll think differently of me because of my courage to be vulnerable. Regardless, this is for me to find healing within myself because no one could do it for me. There is no magic pill or perfect therapist. As I monitor myself for the next few weeks, I will share what I have found helpful and what I have found to be toxic to my recovery.

what is this?

It's been extremely difficult to write. It's almost like reconnecting with someone you absolutely cannot stand to be near. I'll let myself do some freewriting because otherwise, the words will never get said. I wait for the "right" moment in every aspect of my life and end up missing out on all that could have been. My fears consume me. Diagnoses at this point would be utterly pointless because I'm not trying to find someone else to relate to. I mean, it's nice when you're understood and you're feeling validated, your feelings are taken seriously, your struggles are not minimized. That's all very nice. But the work is for me to do. This is not a first-world problem. I can count my blessings, but depression already stems from so much shame that you don't want someone to make you feel worse for not feeling better about how great your life is.

I have a great family. I have amazing friends. I have a good significant other. I have many accomplishments to be proud of academically and otherwise. I have skills and talent and good qualities. This thing called depression can sometimes be so powerful, it clouds the way you think, the way you feel, the way you see things. At its worst, it is crippling. At a moderate level, it's manageable and sometimes you even ask yourself if it's there. The "selfish" thing about it is that it becomes all about you. It comes between you and everything else but you end up blaming yourself for it because you define yourself by it. You don't separate it as an invader of the soul but rather as who you are and that couldn't be further from the truth when you start to unravel what it is all about.

So how do you fight the dark shadows that have been there for so long? In its twisted way it tried to protect you from falling apart. It saved you and you feel obligated to keep it around. It feels safe. It sucks out all your energy and makes life so painful but you tell yourself you've tolerated it before and you can manage it again. Over and over. You get glimpses of what life without it could be like and when it feels unsafe, you run back to what made you feel comfortable. It's safe to numb yourself rather than feel all that anger.

Counselors are told that they need to be sensitive when working with clients because sometimes it takes a few words, however well-intentioned they may be, to break someone's will. It takes a lot of effort just to seek help, to want to take a look inside and fix what is so wrong, a lot of courage to trust and rely on someone that they'll understand even part of what you're going through. But the moment you talk, all you receive are messages like "it's not so bad" "you can try harder" "you're dramatic" "but you're doing so great otherwise" separating you from your feelings, taking away those feelings, just killing them off because they don't belong there. Your depression is drama. It wants attention. You're playing victim. You should set it aside and focus only on the good things in your life because you have plenty to be thankful for.

I am angry. I am angry for not being more assertive, for minimizing my own pain, for adopting others beliefs about me, for not being more self-compassionate with myself for this that I endure every day. I am angry at others for their violations towards me but I avoid conflicts because change in relationships, change in my life is anxiety-provoking. I am numb in looking back at things that may have made me this way because I'm afraid of all the emotions that may come out. I need a safe place to express, explore, and work through my issues. I have a lot of broken pieces, and maybe that might be a little bit of an exaggeration but the way I see it and the way you perceive it doesn't have to match for me to validate my own feelings, my own existence.

This is not an excuse for my behavior or words towards others. There is no excuse towards being condescending or cruel to anyone else. Anybody who is like that has their own pain to deal with and is not ready to address it. It takes a lot of courage to acknowledge your own shortcomings, your diseases. Sometimes I fear if the depression has become so bad that it has done irreversible damage to my thought processes. Will it ever be enough just for me to try?

I don't feel any better writing this. The only thing I'm seemingly good at it is putting things aside. Well, I find myself constantly tripping over that pile. That "right" moment doesn't exist. Waiting to be a better person before committing to a relationship, waiting to learn enough skills before working at a challenging job, waiting to figure out all the right things to say before addressing conflict...yeah, all those things don't have the right time. You do what you can to prepare and the rest is just a learning process, but one you can get through or either learn to walk away from.

Finding myself to be enough has been the hardest thing in the world that it makes me so in awe of those who are already there. Don't push me to get there because your experiences are different from mine. Don't push me is all I want to say to people. Don't tell me what to do, what to feel, what to think, how to behave, how to be better. That's for me to figure out on my own. Telling me any of these things makes me feel like you don't accept my choices or respect them. My whole life, I've been hearing how I should be because the way I am isn't enough. And now I'm just angry. Well, I'm irritated because I was told anger was wrong. I want to scream that none of this makes me a bitch either. How sad it is for a woman to express her feelings and to be defined as "difficult" or a "bitch." A man to express his feelings should be applauded! A man is rational and a woman is emotional. Why isn't it okay to just be different?

So much comes up. So much. I want some quiet time, some downtime. I want to have "me" time without any guilt or shame or anger or negative feelings attached to it. I also don't know what I want and want to be okay with not knowing. Just because there is no "right" time doesn't mean that there is no time when it's safe enough, comfortable enough, or perfect enough to take advantage of when it presents itself. But I don't know. I don't know. 

what brings us together

Without a doubt, the month of fasting is one of hardship. To go a whole month without food, drink, pleasures, as well as bad habits requires a lot of self-restraint. It requires a raising of God-consciousness, of awareness of ourselves and the way we choose to live our lives. In secret, one can choose to obey the rules or break them. Many of us wear masks for the world so that they see the best of us, the parts that they will like. Yet, we have to give each other the benefit of the doubt sometimes. It would be wrong for us to assume, presume, imagine, conjecture the worst about each other, especially when the evidence doesn't always quite add up. How can we go about labeling one another as nice or not nice, limiting our humanity to such restrictive words? At one point, we were all toddlers, children, human beings with similar, basic needs. Our relations, experiences, thoughts, and emotions shape and grow us into what we are. Think of the person who does not know how to be honest and how he learned that to survive. Think of the person who does not know how to say a positive or kind word and how he learned that to protect himself. It is not excusing the behavior or judging it to be good or bad, but that it is a reality that one should accept.

I went off on a tangent. I actually wanted to talk about tonight. This month brings families together when usually they are too busy to even have meals in the same room. This is the only time when we all break fast together, in the same room, sometimes all families, but mostly just us on this floor. Too much has changed in the past few years, some exciting changes and others rather challenging. My father goes to the local masjid to break his fast and joins us later. That's been his habit since last year. Today, it was just my brothers, my sis-in-law, my mother, and my nephew. As we sat there without the TV on (that's rare), my nephew asked if he could watch TV since no one was talking during family time. So I asked him to ask questions then. He said he didn't know what to ask so I said, "Start with something basic. How was your day?" The conversation that ensued afterward just made everyone laugh. The kid's got jokes, and he notices a lot, too. His comments on what he observes is adorable. Even if it is for just an hour, at least this month brings us together in one room. I cannot count all the blessings I have, despite the depression I struggle with. I am hopeful that God understands my gratitude even if I do not say or show it enough. I hope that the God Who understands all the languages in the universe, also understands my silence and what I cannot say.

During the worst of times, we should be looking at the bright side, though I know that sometimes it is impossible to acknowledge it. As believers, we are taught that everything that happens is for our best -- whether it's to help us grow, to change the path we're on, to show us what we were blind to, etc. Not many of us want to see it that way, however. Our ego, our desires, our selfishness gets in the way. We don't want lessons, we want life to go the way we dream it. And that's another lesson we forget. Some of the most basic lessons we learn as a child is that "sharing is caring." We forget that "if you don't have anything nice to say, say nothing." At what point did we care more about being right than care about getting along? We forget as our priorities change.

I asked in the last entry where my passion has gone, and I wondered what passions I was referring to. Initially, I couldn't recall what they could be, but I realized that my biggest passion was words, whether they were my own or someone else's. I have always enjoyed reading, writing, listening to stories, watching tales unfold, imagining what could be. All use words to explain, define, create, divide, develop, sustain, and color moments, experiences, lives, narratives, worlds. But some things cannot be expressed in words, so what fills the vessel of understanding?

I miss our old tenants. They were a unique bunch, didn't have much in terms of wealth or even health but they were some of the happiest people I knew. Blessed are those whose needs are simple, intentions pure, thoughts of gratitude and hearts free of ego. Whenever we had excess in food and sometimes in other things, we gave to them, and they never assumed that we thought less of them but their hearts were so great for accepting with pleasure. One stopped by tonight, and when I asked how she was, she said with such ease, "Great!" that I felt a tinge of envy. A good envy, I think (is that possible?) Should that be something I ought to be striving for? An attitude of joy for life as it is. She attends community college, works, and is, of course, fasting during this month, yet she maintains a rather positive outlook in life. Always has. She enthusiastically talked about how she just joined the gym (though she looks fantastic already!). I felt something within me. Nothing negative towards her -- she's a sweet person who exudes love in all her interactions. Are those standards I've set for myself? Is it really unattainable?

If one went around the world asking people to define happiness, to discuss what they want more of and what they could change about their lives, the answers would unquestionably vary. Not all of us want to be rich and famous. Religion, culture, education, early childhood, residence, age, gender, and temperament are only a few things that influence our outlook, expectations, perceptions, values, and biases.

Do I have a right to say I'm broken? Still, after all this time? It sounds romantic, albeit in a sad way. We go back to the topic of acceptance of reality as it is, of believing that things turn out the way they're supposed to. Perhaps we never really get over past hurts, but we do learn to move on from them. Sometimes we keep things to ourselves or we pretend they don't affect us, but is it at the cost of authenticity?

The beauty of trials is that it either brings people together or tears them apart. You learn who is willing to support you and who could care less.

I'm letting all the randomness out. I've been silent for so long that I don't know where I want to go with my thoughts, and I haven't figured out what's been triggering me and keeping me at such low points. Every time depression hits, it always feels like the worst time. So I cannot really say whether this is the lowest point of my depression, my life. I just know that when I'm there, I feel like there is no hope, no light, no goodness. Intellectually, there is, but emotionally I've got a void. Ideas for recovery float around me, but they haven't pulled me out yet. I suppose if I haven't completely given up yet, that means there is always hope, light, and goodness. There is always something to be thankful for. After all, my experience with depression has drawn me to amazing, beautiful, resilient souls so why shouldn't I be thankful for it?