Depression is like an infection. It injects itself into your thoughts, and, like infected cells, replicates itself. Mantras like “Give up” “I’m worthless” “I want to die” reproduce over and over again. My brain has no anti-bodies for the invasive thoughts. Every time I hear a voice say, “Kill yourself.”, my brain’s automated response is, “I should kill myself. I’m just using up oxygen that could be put to better use.” And the disease intensifies.
Depression is like the narcissistic partner that gaslights me into thinking I’m the problem. With subtle hints about how my clothes, taste in friends, and career choice are all pathetic, they get inside my head. Even though deep down I know they’re wrong, I can’t help but wonder if they’re right. Maybe the way I dress does suck and my friends don’t care about me and I am pathetic….
Depression is like a little red devil sitting on my shoulder whispering in my ear that it’s all in my head. All the while, tempting me to drown out what’s in my head with drugs, alcohol, and lashing out.
I don’t know the scientific reason why depression is so convincing. I guess I could do some research on chemicals and neurotransmitters. But the empirical evidence is clear; depression is real as hell, and so are its lies. Real… but not true.