Depression. The name makes it sound like a prolonged attack of the blues but, in my experience, nothing could be further from the truth. Depression isn’t the blues at all. It’s the mean reds if you like, but it’s not the blues.

Some people who have experienced the mental illness commonly referred to as “depression” have developed their own names for their condition. As well as Holly Golightly’s ‘mean reds’, there’s Winston Churchill’s ‘black dog’ and Freud’s ‘anger turned inwards.’ I personally find this last description is particularly true – depression is closer to anger than it is to sadness.

For me, depression feels like being inside a thick glass wall. On one side is the outside world, other people, real things happening. On the other side is my own mind, controlling my thoughts, feelings and actions. I feel trapped, able to see but not to do. I see things happen around me, but they don’t touch me. I watch myself behaving stupidly, but I can’t take any control. I am a prisoner inside my mind, trapped like a fly in amber. The frustration is unbearable – at times I think I could break out in a blind rage – but I could only attack outwards, and the real trouble lies within. Fortunately, my attendant physical weakness prevents my doing any real harm to myself, or anyone else. Turns out M.E. is good for something, after all.

If you know someone with depression, or if you live with it yourself, then remember. It’s not ‘the blues’, it’s not even ‘mood indigo’. You can’t ‘snap out of it’, it’s no use saying ‘don’t worry, be happy’. Depression is a whole other beast, and we all fight it in our own way.

Just don’t give up.

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