Noun: The ‘too numb to do anything’ stage of an MDD cycle.

Writing is my life. It literally keeps me breathing. So one of the first signs of a depressive cycle is when I can no longer write. It comes in bits and pieces, because I work at an ad agency, so I’m generally word-ing every day. Body copy, taglines, radio spots, TV scripts, website blurb, strategy for client decks. I get through them by rote. It’s when I don’t blog that I know something is wrong.

Also, skipping showers. I can blame it on a lot of things. Like living in Lang’ata, where too much traffic and too little water is standard. It’s never that though. It’s that I wake up in the morning too tired to get out of bed, so I give myself five more minutes of sleep. And then five more. And then five more. And then it’s time to take my baby to school, so I drown myself in perfume and leave the house unwashed.

Other times it’s more blatant. I feel ugly and unworthy, so I wear my least attractive clothes and go to work. Or I wear yellow. I tell myself that since my spirits are so low, I’d better wear something sunny. I have this yellow hoody with sparkly headphones on it, and whenever I wear it, my boss calls me a lemon. Or a pineapple. Or asks why I have drumsticks on my chest. And I smile and walk away because those sparkly drumsticks are hiding a dangerously dark mood.

When I started therapy, I thought I would be psycho-analysed. I though my therapist would dig into my head, ask about my childhood, draw out the demons that cause this depression. Instead she said we don’t quite know the reasons for depression. It’s just a thing that some people have, and that artsy types are more susceptible (writers, painters, photographers, musicians, creatives etc).

Some say the gifts that make us artistic – the ability to see, feel, and express things with such profound beauty – could be part of the source. We have such a connection with emotion that it can easily turn on us and hurt us. We soar to heights and sink to depths in ways that others don’t, and that leaves us open to the hellish spaces of suicide, bipolar, and depression.

So … while therapy wasn’t what I expected, I learned coping skills. I learned to recognise the pattern of depression. To spot it when it showed up. To acknowledge it, speak to it, engage it before it dragged me to places I didn’t want to be in. To ride it when it needed to be ridden. To let it hang around for a bit, and when I felt ready, to ward it off. To deal with it when it eventually came back, because this thing, it always comes back. It’s part of who I am, and that doesn’t have to be a bad thing.

During this depressive cycle, I’ve thought a lot about death, and about being dead, but I haven’t reached the point of being suicidal. I’ve felt lost, desperate, bereaved, but I haven’t been to that place where death is better than life.

It’s not all about him though. A few months ago, I begun to slip into the dark. So I went to the beach. By myself. For a week. I figured sunshine, sand, and solitude would pull me from the edge. And it did. But then I came back to a fiancé that no longer wanted me, and that pushed me over the egde.

I thought knowing the cause of depression would make it easier to bear, but it doesn’t hurt any less when you know what’s behind it. Though in fairness, he didn’t cause it. He just aggravated it. And it’s entirely possible that it’s the depression that pushed him away in the first place, that maybe while I was away, he noticed he felt lighter, and realised my black dog just wasn’t something he could handle.

When you’re living with depression, you have to pick your partners carefully. Both your lives depend on your choice. You need someone that can sit with you in the dark, listen when you’re close to the edge, hold you when you’re teetering over, wait until you’re ready to pull back, keep you sane in good times and in bad … all without losing themselves. It’s way harder than it sounds.

I understand suicide, because I’ve been there. I’ve handled it, attempted more than once. I got past it though, and if you’re in that space, I’d like you to know there’s hope. You can’t see it, but it’s there. So distract yourself. Play something mindless, like Tetris or Candy Crush. It seems like silly advice, but it works. It takes your mind off the pain for a few minutes, a few hours, a few days. It gives your soul a break, let’s you disappear into mundanity. And when you rejoin the waking world, you might find another tiny reason to stay here. Like a sunrise, or ice cream, or bacon.

Living with depression is a moment by moment thing. I’m a long-term thinker, so this annoys me. I rejected the ‘distract yourself’ advice for the longest time, because it didn’t solve the underlying problem. I wanted solution for months, not moments. But this thing, it takes you down a moment at a time, and it never really goes away. It’s not something you can cure, or solve, or fix. You’re stuck with it. So you learn to live your moments, one at a time. And eventually, you find yourself willing to go on, a little less eager to die.

For me, there’s one very scary thing about depression. I call it the lift. Just before you reach the point of active suicide, you’re numb. You feel nothing. No pain, no pleasure, no hope. You’re dead inside. For a person that’s used to intense emotion, feeling dead is hell itself. It’s at that point you decide that since you already ‘feel’ dead, you might as well be dead. And once you make that decision, it’s almost a relief. You get to stop the madness once. and. for. all.

Wanting to die is not the scary part. The scary part is coming down from that edge. Because suddenly, you FEEL. You regain access to all the emotions your soul had shut out, and it’s overwhelming, because what you feel the most is sadness. Heavy, sagging sadness that seems to drown you, and it makes you long for the numbness.

When I was in therapy, we had several measures for the levels of depression. We would judge them on a 1 to 10 scale to see how I was doing. We would check suicidal feelings. How badly do I want to die? Have I written a goodbye letter? Do I have a solid plan? We would check ability to function day to day. Am I eating, cooking, showering? We would check sleep patterns. How much or how little am I snoozing? We would check mood. How good or bad do I feel?

Right now, I’m falling back from the edge. Which means while I’m no longer thinking about being dead, I’m back to feeling low. Very low. Lower than I was when I felt numb. And I’m functioning poorly. I can tell by the levels of my perfume. And water. And soap. And the unread emails in my work-box.

“The tragedy of suicide is not the actual dying. It’s being in so much pain that death is preferable to life.” – Sian Ferguson.

Depression sucks. But it passes. Then it comes back. Then it passes. Bit by bit, moment by moment, it passes. So do what you need to do. Go to the beach, not into the ocean. Sit on the grass, not on a tree branch. Play Bungoma Hangman, or Flappy Bird, or Snake, or Pinball. Sit in your bed and do nothing. Just don’t give up yet.

Me, I listen. I play Sia over and over and over. I neglect my chores and feed my child with take-away pilau. I read. I bake. I watch endless hours of Murder TV. I take myself to dinner. I sit in the sun. I stare at goldfish. I have a few guaranas. I shop for pretty watches. I wear fabric flowers in my hair. I get some fresh ink.

I go to iMax, watch anything with Hemsworths in it. I indulge in Kaldis fries and battered fish. I stockpile Wholenut. I gorge on Vienetta and Baileys ice cream. I get through it a moment at a time. And when I feel the fog is barely lifting, I blog.

♫ Elastic Heart ♫ Sia ft Weeknd and Diplo ♫

PS: I’ve heard people say it’s stupid to kill yourself because you got dumped. You know … no one ever actually does that. Not really. You don’t want to die because the one you love left you. You want to die because you had a low image of yourself. And this person came into your life and made you feel special, beautiful, wantable… worthy. And now that they’re gone, you’re lower than you’ve ever been, worse than you were before they even met you. And that pain, it feels like it’s better to be dead.

It’s not though. It’s never better to be dead. I know no one has come back to tell us all about it, so it’s easy to believe things are better over there in Deathland. And anyway, anything is better than living with this pain, right?

Well … I don’t know what’s on the other side, but I know that leaving doesn’t help. That pain you’re feeling, that conviction that you’re dragging everyone down with your hurt, that people would be better without you? It doesn’t last forever. It feels like it will, but trust me, it won’t. I’ve been there, and it passes. So play Candy Crush, and hold on just a little bit longer. It’s going to pass. I promise. Hugs and love.

♫ Bird set free  ♫ Sia ♫

The thing with clinical depression is it can be cyclic. You handle it, it comes back, you handle it again, it comes back again … it can seem never-ending. Sometimes you want to stop the constant fight and just give up. And that thought can be tempting.

Some people do give up, and then they kill themselves. Literally. The world calls them cowards. It says they are selfish, that they didn’t think about anyone else. I’ve been there, so when I find someone that attempted – and completed suicide, all I feel is sad. Sad that they got to that point. Sad that they felt there was no other option. Because there is always another option. Things is though … even when you know there are options, suicide can feel like the best choice. It’s not, but it can feel like it is.

And … it’s never part of the plan. No one with depression intends to give up. They don’t want to be the way they are, to feel the way they feel … to not feel anything at all. It’s not part of the plan. So don’t try to shock them out of it, or bully them out of it, or cheer them out of it, because that’s like saying they want to be how they are, and that you can somehow get them to want something different.

So … what can you do? This video has a few suggestions. For me, well, I’m in a low cycle right now. I’ve been here before, and I know it will pass. I was in therapy for most of last year, and I learned a lot of coping skills. So, in my case, I don’t want anyone to do anything except let me be, let me deal with it my way.

When you’re in a depressive cycle, you can feel like a burden. At least, that’s how it is for me. So I isolate and fight my demons on my own. But … depression is different for everyone. Some people want to be left alone to deal. Some people need others around, so they can feel wanted and needed and loved. I guess … I guess you know your loved one best and you can tell what they need from you. So … give them what they need, and let them know they’re loved.

J.K.Rowling has experienced depression, and she based her dementors on it. In the Harry Potter series, dementors can only be defeated by a patronus – an embodiment of the victim’s most positive influences and emotions. Patronuses (patroni?) are usually in the form of an an animal. How the animal is chosen isn’t clear, but it’s the animal that the person is most affilated to. Kind of like their spirit animal I guess.

In other cases, the patronus is the person you love, or your mentor, the one you most want to be like. Hence Harry’s was his dad, Tonks and Lily’s were their husbands, Snape’s was Lily and etc and etc. I don’t know how to get a real life patronus (I might settle for a tattoo), but I did make an interesting observation. Depression attacks when enough is not enough. When all the good things in your life get skewed and suddenly nothing you say, do, or are is enough.

So, right now, I’m feeling not enough. But tomorrow is a new day – possibly with a new tattoo, and this ish shall pass. Because it always does. If you’re in the same blue space I’m in, or if you know someone who is, all I can say is don’t give up. Fight those fucking dementors. Don’t let them steal your soul. It may not seem that way, but there are other options, and it will get better. Take it from someone who knows.

♫ Change the record ♫ Melissa Fiona feat B.o.B ♫

PS: I’ve been reading up on patronuses. In the book, you conjure it by focusing really hard on a very happy memory. Summoning your patronus is hardest when you most need it, because a patronus is used to scare away a dementor, which is this dark, frightening creature that feeds off your happiness and strengthens your negative emotions in the process. Then, when you’re too weak to fight anymore, it steals your soul. So imagine trying to consciously focus on your best moments while graphically reliving your worst memory. It’s virtually impossible, and that’s what depression is.

In Harry Potter, Harry thought he was weak because dementors seemed to constantly attack him. He felt flawed and blamed himself. It wasn’t until much later that Dumbledore (or maybe McGonagal) explained the truth to him. The dementors didn’t attack him because he was weak. They attacked him because they breed in fear, pain, hurt, negative energy. Harry had experienced so much evil in his life that the good vibes he had left were like a dementor bat signal.

Depression is exactly like that, and that’s why J.K.Rowling used it as source material for dementors. When you’re lowest and darkest, when it’s hardest to find positive vibes and good feelings – that’s when you need them the most. When you’re severely depressed, you don’t think you’ll ever get better. You don’t have the will to try.

And yet … you must. You have to find the spirit to call your good fairies, your happy moments, because if you don’t, you will die by the dementor’s kiss … quite possibly at your own hand. It’s when you least want to fight back that you most need to try.  After everything he’d been through, it was a miracle that Harry thrived. His experiences didn’t single him out as weak. His survival showed that he was strong.

In the same way, having depression doesn’t mean you’re weak. There’s nothing wrong with you. Nobody quite knows the cause of depression. Theory suggests it’s a combination of misfiring brain chemistry and misdirected empathy. You could be depressed because certain chemicals are missing from your brain, and because your personality and biology makes you feel things more strongly, experience things more keenly, and therefore be more affected by negatives events and ‘bad energy’. I suspect that’s why so many artists and creative types are susceptible.

These innate artistic qualities, like the ability to observe mundane things, find the riches in them, and translate them in ways that touch other people’s souls – it’s what makes you a good writer, dancer, painter, designer, curator, cinematographer.

And it’s what makes you a target for the dementors of depression. You are not weak. You are powerful and beautiful and strong. And knowing that could be the perfect starting point for calling out your patronus. I’ve just discovered mine. I hope you can find yours so we can overcome depression. Remember, you’re not fighting it alone.