Landslide

Protip:  If you ever find yourself home at 11 pm on a Saturday night Googling "Depression Quiz," you don't even need to take the quiz to know the answer.

But like every overachiever, we are good students, aren't we, and we love tests, so let's take a look and see how we do.

Question #1:  Without trying to diet, have you gained or lost weight?

What kind of question is this?  When I have not tried to diet?  And wait, people actually can lose weight without dieting?  If I wasn't depressed before, I am now.  Next.

Question #2:  My sleep has been disturbed - too little, too much, or broken.

What sleep?  Next.

Question #3:   It takes great effort to do simple things.

You mean not everyone's closet avalanches down on them when they open it?  Then yes, I guess, yes.  Isn't this quiz over yet?  Next.

 Question #4:  I have difficulty making decisions.

I'm not even sure how to answer this.  Like, all the time, or just sometimes?  Like big decisions like what to be when I grow up or small decisions like how do I like my eggs?  I don't know, I don't know.  Next.

Question #5:  I don't enjoy things that I used to.

Like taking tests?  Next.

Question #6:  It's hard for me to concentrate when thinking and/or reading.

What now?  Next.

Question #7:  When something is bothering me, I cannot stop thinking about it.

I mean, seriously, people can lose weight without trying?  How can this be?  Next.

Question #8:  When things go wrong,  I don't want to tell people because I worry they will pity me.

Why would you tell people and subject yourselves to their sad faces and pouty lower lips?  Move along, Judge Judy. Next.

Question #9:  Do you feel isolated and alone?

I think the fact that it's 11 pm on a Saturday night and I am taking this test speaks for itself on that front.  Next.

Question #10:  Do you feel depressed?

Why do I feel like this test could have been one question and not 10?

Yes.

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If I were to be honest, I think I've been depressed for quite awhile now, but since I so wholeheartedly embrace the anxious side of me and consider it a major part of who I am and, in some ways, a defining part of my personality - I mean, who in NYC isn't anxious?- I don't give the old depressive side as much attention.  Frankly, it's a bit of a downer.

I mean, at least when you're anxious, you get stuff done.  Depression is like a big old reverend no fun, like the friend in your group who is always complaining and has lots of negative opinions but has no productive suggestions.  I hate sushi.  Okay, where should we go?  I don't know, I just hate sushi.  Ok, what about burgers?  Ugh, no, God, who eats BURGERS?  I'm a vegetarian now.  Oh and I have a gluten allergy.  Wait, aren't you eating a donut, right now?  Ok, maybe it would be better if you just stayed home with some Real Housewives, Depression, you're bringing us down. Take one of those online Depression quizzes and text us in the morning.

Anxious me is always moving.  Where are we going?  What are we doing?  What can I plan?  Depressed me has no energy for the 37 unreturned emails, calls, and texts and last minute backouts and cancellations seemingly required to put any kind of plan together.  I'll just wait over here and see what happens, and if and when it's nothing, it'll be more food for my depression.  SEE.  No one loves me.

A good friend says that solitude and loneliness is the fuel that depression feeds off of.  And it's totally true.  But it's also true that, when you are depressed, reaching out, making plans, is really difficult.  It's really hard.  When you think about it, it's a pretty brave thing we all do each day putting ourselves there to people - do you want to see me?  Do you want to hang out with me?   Those are pretty vulnerable questions.

When you're depressed, not only does it take a lot of effort to even put the ask out there, but you're not really in any position to stomach the answer, either way.  No, you have other plans?  Oh God, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have bothered you, I knew that you would say no, if you wanted to see me, you would have reached out to me on your own, I know you'd rather be organizing your sock drawer, pretend I didn't ask.  Yes?  Oh, you mean I have to get dressed and have a productive conversation and be interesting and fun and toss my hair back and laugh and pay attention to what you have to say and answer the question "How are you?" with the socially acceptable "Fine" and not cry?  I'm not sure I can pull this one off.

The catch 22 is that you need to cut depression off from its food source of loneliness.  Depression is like those robots who use old people's medicine for food except the food in this case is isolation and, oh God, nevermind.  See questions #3 and #6.

And it's hard for those in our lives to win, right?  If you tell people you're depressed, if they start being a little more attentive, it's hard to not think, "Oh, so I had to be depressed to get attention?  That kinda stinks, doesn't it?"  And if they do nothing, you're like, "God they're assholes."  And if you don't tell them, the isolation increases and the gap between you and, everyone else, gets wider and wider.  But as they say, "It's not you, it's me."  And essentially we have to forgive ourselves for being broken and everyone else for not being inside our heads enough to know it and even moreso, for not knowing what to do.  They're too busy being inside their own heads.  And who knows what's going on in there?   Maybe a little resentment that we haven't been calling - because we're been depressed, remember?  Just a thought.

Like every human interaction, it's a little bit risky.  A little bit scary.  A little bit terrible.  Just like writing this post.

I know I won't  be depressed forever.  I'm not sure how I know that, but I do, and I think that's the biggest lifeline that I have.  Hope.  That's a bigger part of my personality than any depression.  I always believe, sometimes with no real evidence or reason, that tomorrow is another, better day.

So maybe I'm not as depressed as I think, maybe I'm a little bit closer to failing this test.  And funnily enough, the act of writing this post, of sharing where I am and how I feel, brought me there.

Who knew?

(Parting thoughts:  I encourage anyone struggling with depression to seek help - you are not alone, even when the empty space on your couch or in your inbox or the lack of likes on your posts or dings on your phone suggest otherwise.)