I have read many different sites with thoughts, studies and reports about these two.
Depression as expressed by one writer “depressed people often feel overwhelmed by the day-to-day tasks and personal relationships so essential to life.”
Why overwhelmed? What am I feeling when I start to think about having to get dressed to go somewhere? What exactly is ‘overwhelmed’? By definition it means to be submerged by. Well, that is literally rather depressing. Pressed you RIGHT down. Submerges… but for myself I know that being overwhelmed feels more like anxiety.
Ex: I have to go somewhere: WHAT am I going to wear? I can’t wear that because I look too fat, actually, never mind LOOK too fat, I AM too fat, and I can’t wear that skirt because It’s too see-through and my one shirt that DOES look okay on me is dirty. WHY is it still dirty? Oh my god, why do I have so much laundry? Why can’t I get anything done? Why is my laundry piled up? What difference does it make, the whole freaking house is a mess anyhow. Why do I even live in a house like this? I should live in a hovel, I can’t keep this place decent, everything I do is wrong.
So… is that Depression? Or is it Anxiety? Negative thoughts, racing thoughts, and all of this turns into avoidance to avoid the sensations that go along with it. Is depression the state of being that arises from Avoidance of issues that cause Anxiety?
Is that Anxiety caused by Feeling too Much. Broken filter. Everything gets in sometimes. Good, bad, too much noise, too much worry too much everything and then you just say OKAY dammit, enough now, and you toss the blanket over your head like a bird in a cage and shut it off.
A few different things come to mind that make it less clear cut (but also might still be related to being overly sensitive)
As a child I worried all the time. About dying. Fires, drowning, bees, geese chasing me— I was just anxious. I knew there were AMAZING things and I loved those things sooooo much. And on the flip side I had things that terrified me to death and immensely made me fearful.
I remember at a very young age not wanting to be seen in my bathing suit. I was about 6. Too young to worry about such things as being fat, but I heard the word tossed about, not necessarily at me, but I knew it was something I could be called (and although a lil chubby, was NOT fat) But for some reason I felt odd, and scared and out of place. I never did learn how to swim. I was embarrassed about not being able to swim. I always felt embarrassed and awkward.
Social anxiety was huge for me. Like many kids. At the school play in grade 1 I was so ill and full of tears just thinking of doing ANYTHING that involved people looking at me. During these years however I don’t recall being depressed. Lots of anxiety though, that continued.
I remember at about 7 years old, moving and each house we looked at I had to check to be sure there was a fire escape route from my future bedroom window or there was NO way we were moving there. The house my parents ended up choosing had a roof under my bedroom window. I was very happy.
I saw things, heard things, had night terrors, many fears. Cried at night, had temper tantrums and basically just recall being emotionally disturbed all of the time. My parents never spanked me, if they did I have no recollection of it. They were pretty tolerant.
By 13, 14 I was getting drunk, stealing from where I babysat, becoming promiscuous, developing heartwrenching infatuations with boys, experiencing date-rape, doing poorly in school, and finally getting pregnant and leaving school. I had my first child at 16 and got married two months later two weeks before my 17th Birthday.
That in itself was a horrible experience – he was a physically and verbally abusive alcoholic. Self esteem taking a further bashing as I was called fat, lazy, stupid– had things thrown at me. Sometimes I would close my eyes and just rock and cry and try to climb into a small dark space in my head to hide from it. He also had a brother (he was one of ten children) that lived in the same complex and would sexually harass me, and successfully forced himself on me. When I told my husband about it he blamed me of course and I won’t bother going into the details about what happened afterward.
I did run away from my husband. Started life again. Still I found myself drawn to ‘strong’ men. Always feeling in my mind like such a chaotic weak mess, I liked the dominating essence of a man that could direct me. Sadly every man I dated with that ‘dominant’ essence was actually just abusive.
Now, 40 years old.
Some days so very touched with the beauty of all around me. Loving it and loving myself. Then seeing a reflection of my failure in front of me. A Failure caused by my fears, my anxieties, these invisible stupid things that trip me up and no one else can see. Things I actually allow to settle in front of me because I am too fearful to walk forward and clear my own brambles.
I guess some people are just overly sensitive to the way the world pokes at them.
And to cope they hide, or avoid, (by actually avoiding, or drinking, drugs etc) and then become depressed at the quality of life they have created for themselves due to hiding. Then seek out pleasure via dangerous behaviours like promiscuity or drugs/alcohol, then hate what they have become. It’s such a vicious cycle. Really. /end deep thought for the day