I’m falling into depression again. I don’t know why.

I’m still writing. I keep thinking of that speech by Neil Gaiman, where he says to just keep making art – in bad times, in good times, in any times at all. Make art.

Doesn’t matter if it’s terrible. It just matters that you do it, even when you don’t feel like you can make anything worthwhile. It makes the darker times feel less dark, when they’ve passed. Less like you’ve wasted an opportunity.

I feel better when I write. Even here, in this little blog that no one reads, I feel better for writing a few hundred words. I wonder if this is why therapists recommend keeping a journal?

This isn’t really a journal because I don’t actually talk about what I do, so there is that.

I think I’m going to sketch something.

After all, I need to make art.


So I got to thinking

…about stuff like depression, mostly.

This is a thing I do not understand. You will find that there are many things I do not understand, not even with my mighty brain, like writer’s block and reality TV. Depression is also on that list. This is okay, I think.

I ask one of my esteemed friends, “What is it like, to be clinically depressed?”

She thinks for a moment. “It’s like this horrible gaping hole of nothing inside your head, that doesn’t go away and makes you think that all the light of the whole world has been sucked into it and will never come back.”

My friend has a graphic imagination, and I tell her so. She agrees with me. “But that’s what it’s like,” she says. “As if there are no happy ever afters – and there never was, and never will be.”

I live and breathe in stories, and I can’t understand the concept of no happy ever afters.

I hope that reading about… whatever the hell I write, I don’t even know at this point… makes it easier. I don’t have to get it to know that I find the idea scary, or to never ever want to know what it feels like. I trust my esteemed friend to know what she’s talking about.

I got to thinking about it lately because that thing that everyone says came up again – “It’s all in your head, and you just have to stop feeling so down all the time.” I don’t like this. It would be like listening to my esteemed friend, who I have known and loved for many years, and not believing her when she describes depression. This is another thing I don’t understand – why anyone would choose to think their friend, their sibling, their parent is a liar when they talk about their feelings.

Sometimes people tell me they’re dealing with depression. I have no idea if it’s the right thing to say, but I always end up saying the same things: “That’s terrible.” “Have you talked to anyone about it?” “Do you want to talk about it, or will we just have coffee/play with some puppies/talk about that movie?” These are mostly the same things I’d say if they told me they were having panic attacks, or feeling majorly stressed out, or [insert problem with life here]. I believe them. This is what we should do, in the absence of any evidence to the contrary – and people generally are an authority on what going on inside their head.

Sorry. I don’t mean to get so heavy this early in the day, but this is what happens when I have too much coffee and start thinking before 3pm.