CW: Depression
I sit at my new desk, having just returned from the annual Freshers’ Fair, and begin to unload my tote bag. Examining the loot, I remember that I managed to snag a free pen from the Jenner Vaccine Trials group – it is shaped like a needle and creates the illusion of liquid being pushed out when tilted. Oh my God, I think to myself, I am so glad to be alive. Such an intense reaction to the design of a pen, however genius it may be, will seem strange to some. But in that moment, it signified something very special; I had returned to myself.
In a recent Vogue article, writer Shon Faye likened emerging from depression to being in “a marriage after infidelity”. You carry a fear that the worst days might not be truly behind you, your sense of security is forever fractured, and nothing ever really feels the same as it did before. This is an experience I can relate to. There is something so pernicious about depression that I simply would not be capable of communicating to my past self who had never experienced it. “I can rationally think myself out of this”, you tell yourself, until it has you by the throat and you have lost all sense of who you are.
My experience with depression was so fundamentally distinct from sadness that I grimace at any association people attempt to make between the two states of mind. Pure formlessness, hollow emptiness, or quietly terrifying insubstantiality seem slightly more accurate. I could not feel sadness, because I could not feel anything. In fact, there were times I would desperately wish to feel sad, just so I could feel something. When all feeling has been stripped from life, meaninglessness takes over very quickly. What is the point of going to a concert you had been looking forward to if you are no longer capable of experiencing even a tiny amount of pleasure from music? What is the point of looking at the sunset from your window if it leaves you feeling just as empty as before?
I had always considered myself someone who feels a strong passion for nearly every aspect of life. I wanted to do every degree, every hobby, every experience the world had to offer. I was the kind of person who would call friends up in the middle of the night and ask if they wanted to go on a 15-mile walk for fun. Depression robbed me of the excitement I felt was an integral part of me, leaving behind a robotic haze of a human being. Thus, you can see how the realisation that I was once again capable of experiencing true appreciation and excitement, even over a pen, was like realising I had won the lottery.
As the days passed by, I noticed other little things. I had the mental energy to wash my dishes without crying. When sat with friends, I could laugh authentically rather than having to mimic every basic social expectation. I am not exaggerating when I say that food began to taste better and colours began to look brighter. The reason I wanted to write this article was to stress the beauty of excitement, curiosity, and gratitude. I don’t care that it’s cliché. Getting a cool free pen made my day. If you are feeling low, I can guarantee there will come a day when you get your pen too.
