Depression

Depression has made a comeback in the news, for now.  It's all over social media in wake of Robin William's suicide.  The suicide hotline is being spread around, articles on depression and signs and symptoms are showing up everywhere - which is great in spite of a tragic and sad loss.

This has all got me to thinking about my own depression as of late.  No, I have never been diagnosed as having depression, but I know it lurks within my ED.  And it lurks in many other diseases - alcoholism.  Hoarding.  Gambling.  Those problems have special names and depression is only often a part of it. And yet, with all the signs and symptoms of those problems, depression is sometimes tossed aside as just being a part of the problem, or a cause of the problem.  It quite never seems to be called depression right away, with the other parts being the coping mechanisms.  For example, alcohol can surely be the coping mechanism for depression.  And in the end, it's just depression. 

Depression in EDs are hidden,  It's hidden in the false sense of happiness over lost weight or a certain number on the scale.  It's lost in overeating, or not eating.  Depression hides within a glimpse in the mirror or window as one walks by - was it a good look?  A bad one?  Depression gets buried under the ED because the glamour of fitting a certain mold takes precedence.  And it is in this tragedy that many can not and will not get help. 

While I was in my ED, I felt as though I was happy.  I finally reached the weight and sizes I desired.  I was getting SO many compliments all the time.  It was joyful, all of this.  But was it really?  Of course not, because under the shiny exterior were feelings being forced back inside their cages.  My mind thought of nothing but food, calories, exercise, clothing sizes...I cried a LOT over the anxiety in dealing with those things and when they were not right (a pound gained was excruciating)  I never dealt with the problems that really bothered me, ones I won't mention here because they are sensitive and personal. 

I remember when I first began peeling away my ED - there were days I didn't want to leave the house and I wasn't quite sure why.  I had restored a little bit of my weight, and started eating a little bit more, but the physical change wasn't a dramatic overnight change by any means.  I started talking more in my therapy what was really going on and every single emotion felt raw, awkward and uncomfortable.  Through my recovery, I was making progress but battling the real culprit all the way.

While I consider myself "almost recovered", my days have gotten brighter but I still feel the "don't get out of bed" days.  In fact, today was one of them - I'm bearing many crosses right now and knowing I don't have my crutch to fall back on (restricting) is hard, but I know it's right.  I'm fighting my ED and whatever sadness I am experiencing.  This time, I'm crying to explore my emotions, not over a cookie. 

So, as we all talk about classic depression, let's remember it may not always look like that.  Often the people who struggle are not walking around with frowns, but rather deflecting smiles, laughs.  They are enlisting the help of other things in their life to get through, usually in excess and perhaps seem like normal everyday people.  It sure doesn't make those without depression understand this better, but perhaps knowing we all may need a little help sometimes, and some more than others, can lead to a place for compassion and understanding.