The laughter stopped

Depression VS Sadness

Are they different??
I spent much of last night pondering, thinking, and crying.
On the evening of the death of Robin Williams I was crushed that he was gone, saddened by those who had negative things to say, and finally, saddened that I was not surprised.

For those who don't like to read ramblings then stop at the following line which in my mind may sum up what I'm about to type:
Depression comes from within, Sadness comes from that around us.


This blog, as is with the rest of my blogs, are based on my experience. I'm not a doctor, hell I didn't even finish high school, but experience I do have many.

As an adoptee I have always had some sort of emptiness inside. Yes, Always. Not having a base to your tree makes it difficult to balance. Pasting on pretend roots doesn't hold a person stable during rough times. The emptiness came from feeling alien to my surroundings and doing what I could to fit in.

My family, for the most part, was happy. Laughter was heard often and while we had rules we also had fun. I believe that our family was as average as any other. We hold our secrets and we also hold onto old family vacations.

I was at a shrink often. I'm not sure why I never felt the ability to open up in such a setting. One man would ask at the beginning of each and every visit "What are you thinking?" A few visits in my reply would remain the same "Of how to answer that question" and we would spend the next 50 minutes watching the shadow creep on his wall as the sun set. It was fall when I made my visits to him. He was one of the few who asked how I felt about being adopted. My reply was that I didn't feel anything about it, and it was never asked again.

I saw another who fell asleep during my visits, while I was speaking to her. She would wake up and offer off the wall advice. To say I took it personally would have been an under statement at the time. I told my mom "She falls asleep while I talk to her!" My mom didn't believe me at first but after a few visits with my same complaint she spoke to the woman who indeed had some sort of iron deficiency. She began taking a supplement and thanked my mom for letting her know and offered some fee sessions. I refused to go back.

While in high school I had a friend. She sat behind me in "sober homeroom" which was a small group of us who had stopped drinking, doing drugs, needed support first thing in the morning. I enjoyed the group, especially when we got to ditch the first class or two to head out as a group for breakfast.
This girl was a pretty redhead. Orange really. She was graduating that year and had a nanny job lined up for the summer. I believe she was an A student thug I can't say for sure, but I do know she got into the school she wanted and would be headed off to start her new life in the Fall. She wore Keds and I used to playfully joke with her that her Keds didn't hold up like Converse would, she always had a hole in the toe of her shoe.
She killed herself. She "had it all" and she killed herself.
A victim to depression placed on meds that helped her to jump from the cliff of life to the eternity of death.
Dead.

For all of my teen years I knew that suicide would always be an option, I always had a reason not to. I needed to survive, I needed to get out on my own, I needed to find my birth mother.
I did not want to die before meeting my birth mother at least just once.

I made it through my teen years and moved at the age of 18. The road to my own survival was not a smooth one and allowed for many hints to happen that could cause others to hold their head in shame. I have no shame over what I had to do to survive the moments.

Married at a courthouse I moved with my now ex husband to Texas. My depression was at bay for a while. Without (at this time anyway) going into details, the desire to find my birth mother no longer healed any weight over my desire to leave this life.
I attempted to take my life twice. The first failed attempt left me feeling like a complete scum of the earth as the medical team shoving coal down my gut looked at me like I was almost too worthless to help. They didn't look sad at me, they looked annoyed.
My second failed attempt brought about some life changes, including but not limited to leaving my first husband.

My path of independence continued and I met my forever husband. It was the year we were planning our wedding as well as looking for a home. Upon seeing several homes I began to cry and not understand how I could hurt so much when everything was going so well. I wanted to die and I could not locate a reason for wanting this. I was placed on Zoloft and it evened me back out. I could breath again.

In order to cut on length (I know, too late) I want to skip forward to now. I was put on meds nearly 20 years ago. I have used those meds three times, each for a period of a year. The last time was 3 years ago. They made me numb and I finally had to stop taking them.

What is depression for me?
Well, let me tell you about sadness first.
I can look at the news, the news including the passing of Robin Williams and I can cry. I can say how I hurt for him and his family. I hurt for struggle he must have gone through.
I watch the conflict of different countries and I hurt for the people in the conflicted areas. I hurt for the other people not in the areas who are making their own political calls on judgement.
I see the stories online of animals being abused and I hurt, I hurt for them and I hurt because it feels like I can not do anything for each pet.

Hurt, also called sadness is not the same as depression.
I wake up depressed on days that have no hurt in them.
The world around me and within my own home can be close to perfect and yet it pains me to get out of bed.
Depression hurts physically. For me it can be similar to that "butterfly" feeling but multiplied by hundreds and so making it painful.
Depression episodes come on with no warning and I can never tell how deep the dark pit will get, or how long it might last for. It lifts in the same way, without warning.

But why don't depressed people reach out for help?
For me it's a simple answer : Because I'm depressed.
I don't want to wake up, I don't want to face the darkness of my own mind, I don't want to speak of the emptiness that feels like it has been filled by cement inside.
Words during depression elude me in that a simple call for help doesn't make sense in my darkened mind.
Dark.
Depression is dark and asking me to see the light while in the midst of it is simply silly.
I hate depression.

My post is really pretty simple and while I could delete the above I won't because for some reason I was supposed to type what was typed.
In keeping it simple:
Depression, Self Pity, Sadness and Self Loathing are not the same. Each is very different.
Please, just don't judge.