Share:
- Click to share on Facebook (Opens in new window)
- Click to share on Twitter (Opens in new window)
- Click to share on Tumblr (Opens in new window)
- Click to share on Reddit (Opens in new window)
- Click to share on Pinterest (Opens in new window)
- Click to share on LinkedIn (Opens in new window)
- Click to share on Pocket (Opens in new window)
- Click to print (Opens in new window)
- Click to email a link to a friend (Opens in new window)
Yeah, depression as an identity is hella scary. Especially when things start to get better, instead of then just being better, you dont know who you are anymore
Word. I was messed up before I even had an identity. I really don’t know who I’d be without my illnesses. Never had a chance to become me before they set in.
I have had severe depression since I was about 7 years old. I don’t know what it is like to not be depressed. As a result, depression is what defines me, without it I wouldn’t know who I am. I would like to have a chance to find out who the non-depressed me is.
I really like the artwork in this. The single color view of goth chick really jumps out in contrast to the black, white and mostly grey world of depression.
Hey guess what? I’m always me, no matter what. You are always you, no matter what. Depressed or not depressed. Still you. Still me.
Identity is not a product. You don’t make it, and you don’t acquire it. It’s just there. It’s just you. There is no answer to “Who are you?” except… just… “Me.”
I like your idea, but I think this situation is kind of complicated. Despite trying to accept whatever version of ouselves we happen to be at the moment without judgement, I think there is comfort in knowing the kinds of things you like and what you think about things.
There’s something very uncomfortable in realizing you cannot connect emotionally to a song that you love and means a lot to you, in going over what used to be your favourite playlists and not feeling like listening to any songs in them because they are embedded with the feelings of the old, sad you, and you don’t want to influence yourself back in that direction, but also, you kind of not even like those songs that much anymore, but you also don’t know what genre you would now like. You try several, and none seem to click. There’s a sense of both having lost something important and being lost there. It’s uncomfortable to want to take better care of your wardrobe but be lost when going shopping because you don’t know what a happy you that both cares for her appearance and makes decisions over it would choose, you don’t even know what you would like to look like if you left the sweatpants and the clothes other people have given you in an attempt to dress someone who didn’t care to dress herself. It’s uncomfortable to not know what your outlook on life is because “empty” and “meaningless” are not answers anymore, but you haven’t found answers that sit well with you either. It’s uncomfortable to have the hope of living and becoming someone but not knowing exactly whom or if you’re even going to like that person, and therefore have no idea how to get there.
I remember a very distressing conversation with three old friends. We were getting toguether after years of not seeing each other, catching up. Two of them are very artsyand like illustration, films and books, and they all like music and have a very defined taste characteristic to them. We were talking about what each of us liked, the remarkable things we had watched or listened to while we were apart and making recomendations to each other. However, at that time I was in a transition state and I felt like a blank slate. (I was feeling better, trying new things, finding hope, and trying to construct a new identity as a “happy and healthy” me.) Every single time they tried to include me in the conversation and asked about my preferences, I had to say “I don’t know.” I couldn’t even lie and mention something from the past because I was trying really hard to embrace the new me, and I wanted them to know and accept this new happy person that didn’t feel quite comfy with darkwave, visual kei, and several subgenres of rock and metal anymore but still loved them the same. The problem was that I didn’t know what this new person liked either. I did explain that my taste in things was changing and I hadn’t settled for anything yet, but inside I just felt empty, as if I had lost very important parts of me and didn’t know myself anymore. I felt as if I was no one in particular but rather Schrödinger’s cat or a spinning coin, a bunch of question marks. All in all, I had been feeling fine and was functioning quite well that week, but that night I came home crying. It felt a little bit like grief.
So, I really appreciate your idea of accepting the freedom to be whoever we happen to be without worrying about characterizing ourselves. I think it’s a good attitude that all of us could use, but I also understand if it’s scary for some people to face the uncertainty of letting go of so many things that make up who they are. It can be complicated.
BEST.
DEPRESSIONCOMIX.
EVER.
After drawing 389 of them, that’s quite a compliment! thanks!
Cured!Goth Girl (Hippie Girl?), uh, certainly looks different XD And yet… she’s still recognisably *her* (that rose in her hair where it could easily be a sunflower or some shit, the white streak in her black hair). She’s just become interested in more things?
The colour also startled me when I scrolled down and saw it. Nice work!
That would assume that someone’s brain is even capable of going into a non-depressed state anymore. Neural plasticity drops with age. In adults it is more a matter of learning coping skills than any pertinent changes in emotion processing. At least you don’t get picked on so often.
Depression causes people to have a lot of irrational thoughts, and the idea that you must be either stupid or naïve to be happy is one of them. Recovering from depression doesn’t automatically turn you into a flake. It just means you gain more control over your life and get to enjoy it a lot more.
as scary or uncomfortable as a thought that happiness might be….there are days i long for the carefree attitude i once had. the happy part or at least worry free, less, WAY LESS anxiety…it can happen but it takes time and work
Very Very few people are “happy”
According to the Harris poll, in 2017 33% of Americans think they’re happy.
I like this a lot. I was discharged from my out patient treatment and a lot of people thought ‘yay, you’re cured now!’. No… I just have coping mechanisms that I didn’t have before.
Don’t expect me to suddenly change. I won’t. I’ve had treatment, not a personality transplant.
You’re too scared of getting better(not being “fixed”, just getting help from therapy, etc) because you think it will change your identity to be like the representation of what a happy person is. In truth, to be mindlessly happy isn’t that common. Tons of people aren’t nearly as happy as they pretend. I admire people that see themself and the world for what ithey actually are, and still try to remain optimistic.
But I still think people like that are few and far between…and I’m not one of them.
I was depressed for a long time, then get out of it. It was wonderful, I was happy, even tho it took a lot of strength to be myself and be positive. The thing is, just being able to stay happy and positive through negativity is, for lots of people, seen as being naive. “You’ll see, it’s not always like that”, “that’s not how life work”, “if you’re like that, you’ll get hurt”, “you simply don’t know”. It was so frustrating, it was not because I was naive, or didn’t live enough, I lived and learned to be happy through it. Those little paper cut became knives deep in my skin when I started a relapse. Now they wish I was “just like before”, “what happened?”. Yeah… thanks…