Clinical Depression. It sounds so....clean, and, well, clinical. Like something developed in a lab, but not yet released on an unsuspecting public.
After a little reading, I’ve decided that having clinical depression is, in many ways, like having herpes. After all, once you’ve got it, you’ve got it. You never quite know when to expect a breakout to occur but when it does, if you’re a considerate person, you take special care to not spread it to others. (A major difference there - depression, at least a temporary form, can be spread through casual contact; herpes takes a little more intimacy.)
We all know it exists, and that statistically, people we know suffer from it, but we don’t talk about it in polite company. If someone does bring up that they have it, we get uncomfortable, look away, change the subject.
It’s understood that having the disease does not, in and of itself, make you a bad person; yet we still suspect that some moral deficiency in you is at least partially to blame.
Both conditions usually involve medication that is supposed to be taken for life, as we prefer your suffering side effects to our suffering your condition. If you choose to not take the medication, we are offended, believing that you have some latent rebellious tendency and possible plan to disrupt our peaceful society.
Taking the medication is supposed to make it all better, or we hope it will. Pills regularly, faithfully ingested, you should now be a functioning member of society who has no need to discuss your condition further...it’s been taken care of. Please, let’s not discuss it anymore.
I must and will say, "I agree." I have always thought that medication is not always the answer, but it is sometimes.
I think it is sad that the human condition causes us to think less of those with depression. We don't want to know that our loved ones are flawed, and we don't want our loved ones to know we are flawed.
Flaws make us as individuals real. No one leads a perfect life; I wish I did. Imperfections make life interesting, and make it worth living. So kudos to depression; because it is a seasoning that spices up our lives.
Also, I think you wrote a fantastic entry. I really brings up a touchy subject with a little sinicism that berates those people that read it to a new way of thinking.
I'm trying to get back in the habit of writing every day. Lately, I've been working on character sketches. Some of those will find their way here, in the form of individual comments to this post.
Comments
After a little reading, I’ve decided that having clinical depression is, in many ways, like having herpes. After all, once you’ve got it, you’ve got it. You never quite know when to expect a breakout to occur but when it does, if you’re a considerate person, you take special care to not spread it to others. (A major difference there - depression, at least a temporary form, can be spread through casual contact; herpes takes a little more intimacy.)
We all know it exists, and that statistically, people we know suffer from it, but we don’t talk about it in polite company. If someone does bring up that they have it, we get uncomfortable, look away, change the subject.
It’s understood that having the disease does not, in and of itself, make you a bad person; yet we still suspect that some moral deficiency in you is at least partially to blame.
Both conditions usually involve medication that is supposed to be taken for life, as we prefer your suffering side effects to our suffering your condition. If you choose to not take the medication, we are offended, believing that you have some latent rebellious tendency and possible plan to disrupt our peaceful society.
Taking the medication is supposed to make it all better, or we hope it will. Pills regularly, faithfully ingested, you should now be a functioning member of society who has no need to discuss your condition further...it’s been taken care of. Please, let’s not discuss it anymore.
I think it is sad that the human condition causes us to think less of those with depression. We don't want to know that our loved ones are flawed, and we don't want our loved ones to know we are flawed.
Flaws make us as individuals real. No one leads a perfect life; I wish I did. Imperfections make life interesting, and make it worth living. So kudos to depression; because it is a seasoning that spices up our lives.
Also, I think you wrote a fantastic entry. I really brings up a touchy subject with a little sinicism that berates those people that read it to a new way of thinking.