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Diary of a Depressionhead

May 15th, 2014

I am a depressionhead. What’s that? ‘The Hitchhiker’s Guide To The Galaxy’ characterises a depressionhead as:

‘An inhabitant of the insignificant planet Earth who experiences a lifelong state of bodymind characterised by hatred of self, fear of other earthlings, near-total despair and utter, utter boredom. They have an unfortunate tendency to write bad poetry, which is in itself, extremely depressing.’

Depressing poem about Depression

Depression is…

The black hole at the bottom of your soul,
The certain knowledge you’ve lost control,
The booming voice in the back of your head
Reminding you that you’re better off dead.

© A Depressionhead, 2014

 Urrgh – social contact!

A few years ago, another earthling invited me to one of the parties he arranged at an alarming rate. When I equivocated about going, he sneered ‘Urrgh, social contact!’, a remark which I found both hurtful and idiotic.

When a depressionhead is badgered into interacting with other people,  it really doesn’t help. When such invitations/threats are issued, the depressionhead is caught between the worst of both worlds. If they don’t go, they feel bad for letting the party poltroon down, if they DO go, they imagine they will feel MUCH worse.

To me the ‘cure’ for depression has always been to avoid people. But the ‘cure’ is almost worse than the disease, and when I get very low, the lure of suicide is always strong.

 Suicide

I have attempted suicide several times. When I was hospitalised after my last serious suicide attempt, my mam found my remaining stash of pills and smashed them venomously with a hammer. It had taken me a long time to gather those pills, and I was mightily miffed. I came to a decision to postpone my suicide until I could do it painlessly, quickly & efficiently.

Some years have passed since I wrote my note (to quote that tantric twit Sting). Since then,my  external circumstances have improved. I am in a very loving relationship. After years on the scrapheap, I now have a  part-time job that is low-pressure enough not to freak me out, but rewarding enough to make me feel ever-so-slightly needed. Also, after years of worrying about becoming homeless, my accommodation is at last stable.

Of course, depression can be frustratingly unaffected by improvements in external circumstances. But I have at least enough hope to keep going.

And that’s enough for now.

 

The author of this piece wishes to remain anonymous. All views or opinions presented in this article are solely those of the author and do not necessarily represent those of the North Dublin Befriending Service.

 

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